Became a Passerby in His Own Novel

When it comes to my novel, I am not the protagonist. In the town, I looked at the flying snakes in the mountains and saw a girl crossing the river from the mist. Ghosts accompany her at night and like her blue and purple eyes. A girl under the moon, chasing ghosts in the dark night. As a passerby, the author's eyes witness the growth of the male protagonist and look at his own direction.