Tales of Demons

On a dark, windy night, I bend over my desk and write at breakneck speed. A poem bears witness:

A rain-soaked cloak, a touch of Jiangnan.

A glimmer of light, all an illusion.

A trace of deep affection…

Suddenly, killing intent rushes toward me. I have no time to dodge.

Oh no…

“Cut it out with the flowery language. Where's the synopsis? When are you turning it in?”

“Um, could you put the knife down first? Let's talk this out.” I cautiously nudged the blade away, my heart pounding.

“Enough nonsense. Hand over the synopsis, or I'll kill you.”

My heart nearly gave out. “Have mercy, young hero. Lend me your treasured blade.”

“What for?”

“I'll cut my own throat and die a happy man, leaving the synopsis behind for posterity.”

Clang…

“Ahem, help! I don't want to write the synopsis anymore…”

I raise the knife and sneer, casting a sidelong glance at the person before me. Heh. Not a chance.

To be continued…