[The urban ghost stories you know are all my leftover scripts]
My name is Lu Jian. I am an Internet writer who suddenly died of coding. When I opened my eyes again, I became a cannon fodder NPC in a strange world.
Here, the red-dressed senior seeks her life, the midnight elevator reaches the underworld, the water ghost looks for a substitute... All are dead ends with no solution.
But no one knows that these strange stories about life-threatening rules are all from "Ten Thousand Ways to Die" that I wrote on the street.
As everyone struggled to survive the horror, I pulled out my "script."
Senior sister in red? In the third chapter of the plot, she is afraid of the yellow safety helmets of migrant workers.
Infinite elevator? The seventh vulnerability is that pressing the door opening button three times can cause a bug.
Relying on my prediction of the "script", I changed from a mortal NPC to a "big boss behind the scenes" in the eyes of the players.
Until the Lord God of the World came and pulled me into the ultimate copy.
What He played was the image of my own death that I had never written and existed only in the deepest part of my memory.
Only at this moment did I understand,
What I write is never a story.
But... My own destiny.
