Shen Mo, the clerk of Dali Temple, has been doing the most inconspicuous job for six years - autopsy.
No one knows that he has another identity: the most popular storyteller in Beicheng, the "Chengnan Storyteller". The strange cases and suspense stories he wrote were very popular in Luojing, and it was hard to find a copy of them on rental bookstalls.
Until late one night, he was called to examine a corpse.
Zhang Wenyuan, a foreigner from the Ministry of Industry, died of a sudden illness - the circumstances of his death were exactly the same as the plot of the story he had just finished writing three days ago.
Is the murderer imitating his script? Or is the pen with which he writes his storybook itself a murderous knife?
What made Shen Mo even more uneasy was that he discovered that his master's death ten years ago, Zhang Wenyuan's death, and the death of the corpse floating in the Shuntian Mansion River all pointed to the same list. There are seventeen people on the list, ranging from the upstart imperial examination to the young minister of Dali Temple, from the palace painter to the border general.
Everyone is related to his storybook.
The name at the top of the list was not included in the book.
Because he didn't dare.
——This is not a script. This is a testimonial.
