2: Pen name: Hell Dream Weaver

In the office, Shen Qingqiu rubbed her temples tiredly.

As a member of the Municipal Writers Association, she had originally placed high hopes on this competition to select literary saplings.

But she flipped through a dozen or so essays that had just been moved to the office by the class representative.

All she saw were fears of the dark, fears of exams, fears of parental scolding...

They were clichés, completely devoid of any originality.

"Students nowadays really are increasingly lacking in imagination."

She sighed and casually pulled out the essay underneath.

Name: Lin Que.

"Hmph, that guy who sleeps in class."

Shen Qingqiu held no hope at all, her gaze scanning the main text casually.

Title: "back to back".

"Mystifying things for effect, even the essay title cannot express itself clearly, how can anyone bear to read on!"

She gave a calm evaluation in her heart, wanting to see what tricks this student who slept in class could possibly pull off.

"Late at night, the lights in the rented apartment flickered on and off..."

The opening environmental description was standard and conventional, a routine commonly used by high school students.

She patiently read on.

"Xiaomei always felt that there seemed to be an extra person in the room. But every time she turned her head, there was nothing behind her."

Reading to the second paragraph, her scrutinizing gaze froze slightly.

The wording was concise, the atmosphere was well set, and it was somewhat interesting.

For a student who slept in class, it could be considered to have some writing prowess.

She continued to look down.

The knuckles holding the red pen tightened subconsciously when she read, "Until one day, waking up in the middle of the night."

"It can be considered a bit of psychological suggestion technique, but after all, it is just petty cleverness."

As a member of the Writers Association, she analyzed it rationally.

However, when her gaze touched the final paragraph.

Especially that final sentence:

"... and her, back to back."

All her professionalism, rationality, and pride collapsed instantly!

The office was frighteningly quiet, with only the rustling sound of turning pages.

A chill burst from her tailbone, shooting straight to the back of her head!

She felt a strange coolness on the back of her neck, carrying an elusive dampness, as if something was... breathing right there.

"Snap!"

The essay notebook was accidentally thrown onto the desk by her, making a crisp sound!

Shen Qingqiu's breath hitched, and she sprang up from her seat, turning her head in terror!

There was no one behind her.

There was only a cold white wall.

But her gaze stared fixedly at that wall, which in her eyes seemed no longer a support structure.

But rather a huge, cold "back".

Just now... she had been sitting against it "back to back".

This realization made her even more creeped out than the story itself!

But that feeling of being spied on and being closely approached just would not go away.

"Hoo... hoo..."

She panted heavily, her chest rising and falling violently.

Th... What is this thing?!

How could a high school student write such... such writing that could burrow into the cracks of a person's bones!

Shen Qingqiu stared at the essay notebook on the desk.

For a full five minutes, she did not dare to move a muscle.

"Bastard..."

Shen Qingqiu gritted her teeth, squeezing these two words out from between her teeth.

She was clearly scared to death, and her fingertips were trembling lightly out of control.

A few minutes later, when her violent heartbeat calmed down slightly, a sense of shame enveloped her.

How could she, an adult, a Chinese Language Teacher who advocated rational thinking and reasoning, actually be scared like this by a student's essay?

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to pick up the essay again, trying to deconstruct it with a professional and rational gaze.

"It is just utilizing confined space and visual illusion... a common psychological suggestion technique..."

She muttered to herself.

But when her gaze fell once again on the sentence "... and her, back to back."

Those six words seemed to carry magic, injecting that chill back into her bone marrow.

She felt an unprecedented sense of contradiction.

On one hand, she was so scared that she wanted to tear this essay to pieces and burn it.

On the other hand.

A morbid curiosity drove her once more, wanting to unearth what kind of horrifying world was still hidden in the mind of the person who wrote these words.

In the end, an impulse overcame reason.

She took out her phone, trembling as she took a picture of the essay, opened the "Jiang City Writers Association Internal Exchange Group" which almost never spoke, and sent the picture out.

Following that, she typed a line of text:

[Everyone, help me judge, does this... still belong to the category of literature?]

After finishing all this, she realized her palms were covered in sweat.

She looked at that name on the exercise book.

At this moment, she had only one thought in her mind:

What kind of monster on earth could write such writing?

And the "monster" in her eyes was completely oblivious to everything happening in the office at this moment.

Returning home, his parents had not yet finished work and come home.

Lin Que locked himself into his small bedroom and turned on the buzzing old-fashioned computer.

He logged into the largest online literature platform: "Hongguo Novel Website".

He clicked open the number one spot on the hottest rankings, "Mecha Storm", and quickly flipped through a few chapters.

["Thor 7" starts the fusion engine, power is increased to 120%, the executioner high-frequency particle blade on the right arm pops out, and the blade's energy index reaches a peak of 3,800 watts.]

[The opponent Black Hole mecha's guardian energy shield instantly deploys, and after calculation, it can withstand energy impacts below 4,000 watts...]

Lin Que frowned deeply as he watched..

The entire text consisted of cold parameter collisions and worldview setting explanations.

Character motivations and emotional descriptions were as pale as a product manual.

He clicked open the reading ranking number one "Strongest Urban Stock God".

["Protagonist Wang Fan recalled that three days later, Huaxin Technology's stock price would skyrocket due to the release of a new chip, and he decisively invested his entire net worth of 100,000 yuan..."]

Aside from repeatedly buying and selling using information asymmetries.

The protagonist was like an emotionless money-making machine, with no character arc or story twists to be seen anywhere.

Lin Que closed the webpage and could not help laughing in a low voice:

"What a fine piece of virgin soil that has never been touched!"

Lin Que crossed his fingers, moved his wrists, making crisp clicking sounds.

In this world that advocated absolute rationality and lacked a sense of awe.

He intended to be the only Dream Weaver.

Registering a new account.

Pen Name: [Hell Dream Weaver].

New Book Title: "the human world is like a prison".

In the synopsis box, he typed out those words that once made hundreds of millions of readers unable to sleep at night:

"The world is in an era of evil and defilement, hell is already empty, fierce ghosts are reviving, the human world is like a prison."

"Ghosts cannot be killed."

"The only thing that can deal with a ghost is another ghost."

"Insight into the rules of ghosts is the only way you can survive!"

Every line of text was like a cold blade stabbing into this greenhouse-like world.

The main text begins.

He did not copy it completely, instead quietly replacing the background with the Jiang City beneath his feet.

A true sense of immersion is the best catalyst for fear.

"Chapter 1 Knocking on the Door"

"Thump, thump, thump."

"Two-thirty in the morning. The knocking on the door sounded punctually once more. Yang Jian looked through the peephole and saw a dead silence of darkness outside. His whole body turned ice-cold, because he knew..."

"What is standing outside the door is definitely not human."

The dilapidated keyboard wailed under Lin Que's fingers.

The abilities of a top-tier screenwriter from his past life were fully unleashed, and those terrifying plots carved into his brain poured out.

Three hours.

Ten thousand words.

Five chapters released consecutively.

The moment he clicked "Publish", Lin Que felt as though he had released an evil ghost from a cage.

"Go."

He whispered to the screen.

"Go give this innocent world a tiny bit of shock."

...