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ShenRuipingsighedandrubbedhistemples.Hehadspenthourspouringhisheartandsoulintothenovel,andtothinkthatitwasallfornothingnowmadehimfeellikehewantedtocollapse.Theprotagonist,ayoungmannamedShenXiong,hadbeentransportedintotheworldofhisownmaking,onlytofindhimselfinaprecarioussituation.Thevillainousmagician,Zhiyan,haddiscoveredShenXiong‘strueidentityandwasdeterminedtokillhim.
ShenRuipingsatathisdesk,staringblanklyatthepagesofhisnovel.Heknewthathecouldn‘tchangethecourseofeventsnow,butitdidn‘tmeanhecouldn‘ttrytorewritetheending.Afterall,asanauthor,hehadthepowertomanipulatethestoryandgivehimselfahappyending.
Hetookadeepbreathandbegantotypeoutanewconclusionforhisnovel.Ashewrote,hefeltasenseofdeterminationwashoverhim.HewasnotgoingtoletZhiyanwin.HewouldfindawaytodefeathimandsaveShenXiong‘slife.
ButjustasShenRuipingwasgettingintothezone,heheardafaintvoiceinhismind.ItwasShenXionghimself,butnotashehadexpected.TheyoungmanwhohadbeentransportedintotheworldofthenovelwasnowspeakingtoShenRuipingfromwithinhisownmind.
“What‘sgoingon?“ShenRuipingaskedaloud,startled.
“I‘myou,“ShenXiongreplied,hisvoiceweakanddistant.“Atleast,I‘myourconsciousness.I‘vebeentrappedinthisbodyforwhatfeelslikeaneternity.“
ShenRuiping‘seyeswidenedinshock.Hehadneverexpectedthistohappen.
“Whydidyoucomeback?“heasked,hismindracingwithquestions.
“Iwantedtohelp,“ShenXiongsaid,hisvoicefilledwithdetermination.“IknowthatI‘mnotsupposedtobehere,butIcouldn‘tjustsitbackandwatchyoudie.I‘vebeentryingtofindawaytoescapethisprisonforsolong.“
ShenRuipingfeltasurgeofgratitudetowardshisprotagonist.HehadneverconsideredthepossibilityofShenXiong‘sconsciousnesstryingtohelphim.
“Whatdoyouneedmetodo?“heasked,hismindracingwithpossibilities.
“Ineedyoutokeepwriting,“ShenXiongsaid,hisvoicefilledwithurgency.“Iknowthatitsoundscrazy,butIbelievethatifwecankeepmovingforward,wemightbeabletofindawayoutofthissituation.“
ShenRuipingnodded,eventhoughheknewthatShenXiongcouldn‘tseehim.
“I‘lldoit,“hesaid,determinationcoursingthroughhisveins.“I‘llwriteourwayoutofthismess.“
Andwiththat,ShenRuipingsatbackdownathisdeskandbegantotypeonceagain.Thistime,however,heknewthathewasn‘tjustwritingastory-hewaswritingtheirlives.
Asthehourspassed,ShenRuipingfoundhimselfbecomingmoreandmoreimmersedintheworldofhisnovel.HefeltlikehewaslivingthroughShenXiong‘sexperiences,anditwasexhilarating.Hewrotefeverishly,determinedtogiveShenXiongthebestchanceatsurvivalpossible.
Butasthesunbegantosetonanotherday,ShenRuipingrealizedthathehadbeensocaughtupinhiswritingthathehadn‘tevennoticedthetime.Helookedupfromhisdeskandsawthathisphonewasblowingupwithtextsfromhisfriends.
“Hey,wherehaveyoubeen?“oneofthemasked.“orriedaboutyou.“
ShenRuipingsighedandrubbedhiseyes.Hehadforgottenallabouttherealworldoutsideofhisnovel.
“I‘mfine,“hesaid,tryingtosoundnonchalant.“Justalittleoverwhelmedwithworkrightnow.“
Hisfriendsnoddedsympathetically.“Well,we‘rehereforyouifyouneedus,“oneofthemsaid.
ShenRuipingsmiledandthankedthem.Heknewthattheywerejustbeingkind,butitmadehimfeelbetter.
Ashehungupthephone,ShenRuipingcouldn‘thelpbutthinkabouthowsurrealhislifehadbecome.Hewasanauthor,trappedinaworldoffantasy,withaprotagonistwhowasalsohisownconsciousness.Itwascrazy,buthewouldn‘ttradeitforanything.
Hewentbacktohisdesk,feelingmorerefreshedandfocusedthaneverbefore.Heknewthattheroadaheadwouldbedifficult,buthewasreadyforwhatevercamenext.
Andashebegantowriteonceagain,ShenRuipingfeltasenseofexcitementandanticipationbuildinginsidehim.Whatlayahead?WouldtheybeabletodefeatZhiyanandsaveShenXiong‘slife?Onlytimewouldtell.
