Chapter 7: "The Self-Posting Novel"
Ji Xiahan had a doubt.
The air in the room seemed to thicken as he stared at the computer screen. The cursor blinked accusingly over the bnk document.
"What if I don’t post anything?"
The doubt echoed in his mind like a funeral bell. Outside the window, the wind smmed tree branches against the gss—tick, tick, tick—like bony fingers trying to get in.
What would happen if he didn’t post anything when the time came for him to normally upload the chapters online?
It was a pertinent doubt.
He knew it was ridiculous to be afraid of a text.
But it wasn’t just a text.
The red chapters still burned in his memory.
If he really had to continue this novel that had spiraled out of control...
Why not just toss everything to the wind and carry on as if nothing had happened?
But Ji Xiahan already had an answer in his heart.
If even deleting a single line made the text return even darker... If the time he didn’t have a chance to post because he was at the police station, three completely red chapters were uploaded anyway...
Ji Xiahan had good reason to believe this "novel" would keep posting itself, even if he abandoned it.
The question was, at what cost?
A sinister sensation crawled through his body every time the bck font changed color—a foreboding that it wouldn’t end well if he kept ignoring it.
Was he destined to keep recording this story? To write how people still alive would die?
One that made him feel as if he himself were killing them?
No.
Not necessarily.
Ji Xiahan refused to believe in "fate."
If he called the police right now and reported these murders, wouldn’t this script be forced to stop?
Even if they didn’t believe "prophecies" from an anonymous caller, they’d have to take it seriously after just one tragedy.
He didn’t care if he seemed suspicious or came under scrutiny—without evidence, they couldn’t do anything to him.
So, shutting off the computer, he picked up the phone.
Dialing the police number, he was soon connected.
--- "Jiujiang West City Police Department. Who’s speaking?"
Ji Xiahan couldn’t hear his own voice.
He’d definitely parted his lips and spoken the words he’d rehearsed.
But no sound came out.
--- "Hello?"
Pcing the phone on the table, he tapped his fingers in Morse code on the wood—a code he’d learned out of interest.
No. He tried.
His fingers wouldn’t move, as if an invisible force held them in midair. Exerting strength was useless.
--- "I’ll hang up. What’s wrong with kids these days? So amus—" beep—
The officer hung up before even finishing.
Ji Xiahan didn’t give up. He went to an anonymous forum’s inbox and tried to type a message.
Same result.
His fingers refused to move, even as his veins bulged from the effort.
Change of approach—he tried embedding a clue in an ordinary paragraph.
The useless words typed effortlessly, but not the ones that truly mattered.
It was impossible.
At least, Ji Xiahan couldn’t think of any other way.
Gncing sidelong at the computer screen, he finally set himself to read the red text that had been flickering in his vision since earlier.
The monitor turned on by itself.
This was undeniably supernatural interference.
Ji Xiahan wasn’t too surprised.
Not after everything that had happened so far.
If this world was becoming the world of his manuscript, ghosts wouldn’t be unusual.
What worried him was…
Why?
Why him?
Was there no one else in the world interesting enough to haunt?
Was it because he’d written it?
Had some ghost taken an interest in his script? Or had this world always been like this—only now was he discovering it?
"The character Ji Xiahan (The Writer) would not know about the future."
"No inconsistencies are permitted."
That’s what the text on the bnk file page said.
The red seemed far more tangible now, as if it might drip off the screen the next second.
Ji Xiahan refrained from touching it.
It was worth considering the deeper implications.
He as "Writer Ji Xiahan" should not know about the future. He must not speak of it, and certainly must not report it to the police.
"No inconsistencies are permitted."
He repeated it in a whisper.
"If not, then... What if there's a reason?"
Like...
"Witnessing the killer in person?"
Too dangerous.
Ji Xiahan cked both the physical strength and the courage to confront a knife-wielding maniac.
But perhaps gathering evidence wouldn't be so complicated. A phone to record, and fast legs to run if things went wrong.
But... Did he truly want to risk his life for complete strangers?
Why not just write obediently, publish, and return to sleeping safely?
As if.
"Hahaha—"
Ji Xiahan was selfish.
He cared deeply about his own feelings.
His sense of pride was infted.
Having his will trampled for so long was bad enough. But to bow his head like a frightened dog?
Ji Xiahan would likely choke to death before any killer even got a chance to act.
It wasn't that complicated.
He'd just hide near the crime scene, film silently, and leave.
As for the victim?
He apologized in advance.
He wouldn't risk himself more than absolutely necessary.
If feasible, great. If not...
Ji Xiahan gripped the pocketknife that never left his coat pocket anymore.
He didn't want to go to jail.
But he didn't want to face greater danger either.
If he were caught by the killer...
It couldn't be as hard as the first time, right?
Hide. And cover up.
He'd done this before - the motions were familiar.
Ji Xiahan stood up.
He packed his backpack and tools.
Mostly what he'd carried to deal with the monkey that day. They were far too familiar. More than he'd like.
But better prepared than regretful. He'd deal with suspicions about carrying these items ter.
Hesitating for a moment, Ji Xiahan also took the fshlight from the corner.
Since this world was full of spirits and ghosts, he ter realized this fshlight might be one too.
Even if useless beyond saving batteries, Ji Xiahan could throw it at a haunting if encountered. Even just to buy a few seconds to run.
Perhaps the fshlight sensed his thoughts through his btant stare—it flickered briefly in protest.
Smiling, Ji Xiahan said:
"Time to pay rent. For all these years of shelter from dangers outside."
He realized this spirit wasn't strong, or it would've haunted the entire house long ago, not just an old fshlight.
Maybe it had stayed in his home all this time to hide from stronger ghosts outside?
The fshlight flickered more erratically, extremely reluctant. But he stuffed it into the backpack anyway.
"Well, shall we go?"
----
End of Arc 1: The Manuscript
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The introductory arc is finally over—the rules have been id out, and now the real adventure with Ji Xiahan begins!
Tell me what you think so far! ????
This is my first story, so please let me know if I’m making any mistakes.
Future chapters won’t come out as frequently as these early ones (I really need to focus on studying English and other subjects for an upcoming exam). I’ll aim for 2 chapters per week, but I’ll try for more when possible.
And again, any encouragement—even just adding this book to your library—means everything to me!
