Doctored Script

What is it like to travel into a novel you wrote? When Su Wantang woke up, she was kneeling in the main hall of the Demon Palace, with Demon Lord Li Hanyuan above her head looking down at her. She memorized the original work, and she remembered all the plot directions. But the person in front of me, according to the original novel, sits in a posture that presses your spine. He is standing. The book is wrong. From the moment I woke up nothing was right. The one who welcomed the bride was not Qing Ming but the Demon Lord himself. The wedding dress is black, not red. The ferocious beast saw her transform from a three-foot-long giant into a milk dog, wagging its tail and rubbing at her feet. Seven portraits hang on the stone wall, the first six are mottled and faded, and the seventh is framed in a wooden frame, showing her own face. What made her even more uneasy was what the old woman who brought tea in the side hall said: "My child, you are not wearing a book, you are back." She decided to find out the truth. But the deeper I dug, the more I discovered that the original work had been tampered with, and the tampering was still going on. Someone was rewriting cause and effect stroke by stroke where she couldn't see it. And the Demon Lord next to her who has been silent for thousands of years has her name carved all over the walls of the cave. When I asked him, he only said nine words: "It's only once in three hundred years that you take the initiative to touch me." This is not a story about traveling to another world. This is the story of returning to the world of your own creation.