In a remote mountain, Zuo Zhu stood in front of a shabby earthen house.
At that moment, the door opened, and a man whose face was so handsome it didn’t seem real appeared, smiling at her.
Even though he was clearly the male lead she had drawn, Zuo Zhu shivered.
Five minutes ago, she had been frantically working on her manuscript at home. Her current comic was serialized in a magazine, and the deadline was the day after tomorrow, yet she, as always, had procrastinated until the last moment.
While she was drinking coffee and not paying attention, her computer screen suddenly displayed a comic she had drawn before—The First Ghost Catcher.
This was a comic she had created with her friend Brother Wei during college, but it had been abandoned due to various reasons.
Zuo Zhu had long stopped paying attention to it.
Before she could figure out why it had suddenly appeared on her screen, her vision went black, and when she opened her eyes, she found herself standing in front of that earthen house, and someone had already knocked on the door.
From the moment of knocking to the door opening, Zuo Zhu’s mind was filled with a flood of memories belonging to the original character.
These memories horrified her: she had entered the world of The First Ghost Catcher, and she had become the female cannon fodder who died at the end of the first chapter.
“Come in and have a seat?” The male lead, Huo Fu, still smiled.
Zuo Zhu wanted to refuse, but she was even more afraid that rejecting him would result in her dying at the beginning of the first chapter.
So she took heavy steps and followed the male lead into the house, resigned to her fate.
Logically, she shouldn’t have been so resistant or scared.
After all, The First Ghost Catcher sounded like a male-oriented comic about leveling up and collecting beautiful women, and the male lead was a typical overpowered hero. The plot of the female lead seeking refuge in his room at night should have naturally led to them getting to know each other intimately.
Readers who had seen the comic thought the same: a woman appearing so early in the story, with a seductive figure and alluring looks, actively seeking the male lead at night, clearly fit the classic harem-building trope.
All the male lead had to do was go along, and the beauty would become the first member of his harem.
However, things turned out unexpectedly—
The voluptuous beauty knocked on the male lead’s door. When he opened it, he smiled and said, “Come in.”
The beauty, both happy and proud, entered the room and hugged him from behind.
The male lead was somewhat surprised and asked with a smile, “Are you so eager to be devoured by me?”
The beauty hadn’t expected the man, who had shown little interest in her during the day, to speak so provocatively at night. Sure enough, men were all the same, easily tempted.
She restrained her glee and coquettishly said, “Yes, I can hardly resist.”
The male lead smiled even wider: “Then, as you wish.”
And so, he opened his bloodthirsty mouth and swallowed her whole.
The readers, who had already seen the explicit buildup, were left in shock: …Author, what the hell!
The first chapter ended here, the last panel showing a splash of blood with a bloody line written over it:
“By day, he was the ghost catcher who made all women infatuated;
By night, he was the demon all women feared!”
Readers: …I want to fund sending the author to Transformation Plan.
Zuo Zhu stiffly watched the male lead Huo Fu close the door, tears welling up.
It was all her fault, a relic of her reckless, overly dramatic youth, when overpowered male leads were popular. She had created such a male lead to stand out, and it backfired.
Years later, she now personally inhabited the fate of the female cannon fodder who dies in her own comic.
Damn it! Why isn’t Brother Wei the one transported here? The comic was co-created, so why should she suffer alone?
After locking the door, Huo Fu noticed the tear trailing down her face and asked puzzled: “Why are you crying?”
Zuo Zhu gazed at the distance, letting tears fall freely: “I’m mourning my youth.”
“But you came here yourself,” Huo Fu said, his eyes saying plainly, you brought this on yourself.
Zuo Zhu realized the original character hadn’t expected this kind of twist—this “eating” was not what she had imagined.
“Forget it,” Zuo Zhu lay spread-eagle on the bed, surrendering: “Eat me, I’m atoning for my dramatic youth.”
The crap she had once fed her readers was now coming back to her; karma had its way.
The male lead was her creation; she knew his strength and his cold, relentless nature. There was no escape.
She could only hope that when he devoured her, it would be quick. Perhaps, after death, she would open her eyes back in her own world and continue her manuscript.
Then she would behave, drawing whatever readers liked.
Huo Fu did not expect Zuo Zhu to obediently wait to be eaten. But after all, he wasn’t the daytime Huo Fu—he was the night demon Huo Fu, whose brainpower was far inferior and completely ignorant of human matters.
All he knew was he wanted to devour vigorous humans, men were stinky and hard, and he loved consuming soft, fragrant women.
The woman in front of him, full-bodied and fleshy, looked delicious.
Thinking of the extra meal at night, demon Huo Fu gleefully opened his bloodthirsty mouth, aiming for Zuo Zhu on the bed.
“Wait!”
At the last moment, fear gripped Zuo Zhu. Even knowing she was in a book, who wouldn’t fear death?
She grabbed a pillow to block the demon Huo Fu’s mouth.
“Can you wait a bit before eating me?”
Demon Huo Fu’s face immediately fell: “No!”
Zuo Zhu whimpered: “But if you eat me now, it won’t taste good.”
Demon Huo Fu salivated: “Why wouldn’t it?”
Zuo Zhu pointed at her chest and then her hips: “Do you know what this is?”
Demon Huo Fu thought: “Some lumps of flesh?”
“No, this is fat,” Zuo Zhu said, “Have you ever seen fat?”
Demon Huo Fu shook his head in confusion.
“I can show you.” Zuo Zhu got off the bed, went to the kitchen water tank, and picked up a piece of greasy pork.
With the original character’s memories, she knew someone in the village had slaughtered a pig during the day, and as a local, Huo Fu had cut some pieces.
Demon Huo Fu leaned closer, peering at her: “Where’s the fat?”
Zuo Zhu immediately held up the pork, pointing to the fat and fatty bits: “See, this is fat! Isn’t it disgusting?”
Since the night Huo Fu shared daytime memories, he remembered that daytime Huo Fu didn’t eat these greasy fatty parts, so naturally he was disgusted.
He hesitated at the thought of consuming Zuo Zhu’s fleshy parts, but he refused to give up entirely.
Zuo Zhu carefully watched his expression and said: “I’ll start losing weight today. If you wait a bit, these fats will be gone, and my flesh will be firm and tender, much tastier than now.”
Demon Huo Fu was swayed but unwilling: “Then hurry up and lose it! Get rid of those useless lumps!”
“I will!”
Observing Huo Fu’s face, Zuo Zhu saw his displeasure clearly—he hated having food in front of him that he couldn’t eat.
She quietly breathed a sigh of relief.
She finally owed Brother Wei a bit of gratitude. When they created this female character, Brother Wei, as a man, had designed her with a large chest, narrow waist, long legs, and prominent hips.
At the time, she had resisted, thinking the character’s bust was excessive, almost leaving the frame and appearing vulgar.
Now it helped her buy some time.
Of course, she was also thankful to herself—she had designed the male lead demon version to have very limited intelligence, only knowing to ferociously devour beauties.
Crisis averted, Zuo Zhu cautiously asked: “So can I go back tonight?”
Demon Huo Fu stared: “No!”
“Then fine,” she said.
Demon Huo Fu looked puzzled—he expected resistance, yet she agreed so easily.
In truth, Zuo Zhu preferred staying; she knew how many ghosts haunted this mountain village, and several college students traveling with her had already gone missing.
If the demon didn’t eat her, staying here was safer than going back to sleep alone.
So she lay down comfortably and even invited demon Huo Fu onto the bed.
“Come, come, let’s sleep.”
Demon Huo Fu didn’t understand Zuo Zhu’s calmness. He climbed onto the bed, holding her like a piece of pork—fragrant but inedible.
Zuo Zhu yawned, looking at the male lead as if he were a moth she had drawn, amazed that a two-dimensional paper character could be so handsome in three dimensions.
With no threat of death, she wasn’t afraid of this demon male lead, he was simple-minded and easily fooled.
Thinking of this, she fell asleep with his drooling face looming over her.
The next morning, she woke to find herself alone on the bed.
The normal Huo Fu sat on a chair, resting his chin on his hand, watching her: “You really managed to survive next to his mouth.”