First, do not write about daily life.
Li Xiaoming finished work, tidied his desk and computer, greeted his colleagues, and slowly cycled home. He lived in Mingyue Community, very close to the company. Two days ago, the property management and the homeowners' association had a fight. Now the property management had moved out, leaving behind a lot of trash. Li Xiaoming covered his nose and walked into the elevator. At that moment, he saw Auntie Liu from the second floor, and the two began to exchange pleasantries...
Instead, write this:
Li Xiaoming died.
Crushed to death by a heavy truck.
Brain matter sprayed out like watermelon juice, splattered all over the ground.
Second, do not write scenery that you think is beautiful.
Li Xiaoming looked at the evening sky. The firmament transformed into a massive canvas, rendered wantonly by an invisible hand. Initially, it was a fierce and solemn golden yellow, like molten gold liquid flowing through the gaps in the clouds; then, it was stained with a touch of naive rouge red, like the shy cheeks of a young girl.
Instead, write this:
My head hurts.
Where am I?
Li Xiaoming opened his eyes.
Layered, dark foliage shielded the sky. The air was thick with a stench of rot.
He covered his nose and sat up, intending to observe his surroundings, but his right hand, propped on the ground, eerily touched something ice-cold.
Third, do not write irrelevant background introductions.
Li Xiaoming is 28 years old this year, an ordinary programmer at a tech company. He graduated two years ago and found his current job, working nine to five. He has been dating his girlfriend for three years, but now she is drifting away. His life was like a glass of plain water, ordinary and flat, until now.
Instead, write this:
"Gag."
Stomach acid surged instantly. Li Xiaoming nearly vomited his bile.
Slumped right before his eyes was, shockingly, an unrecognizable human corpse.
The corpse had been dead for quite some time, wrapped in shapeless cloth armor. Half of the body had begun to rot.
Most bizarrely, half a stalk of mushroom protruded from the left eye socket, shimmering with a bewitching, faint blue light. The mycelium burrowed into the shriveled, nearly translucent, wax-colored skin of the face.
Fourth, do not write redundant monologues and inner reflections.
Li Xiaoming often pondered the meaning of life. Was it like Sisyphus pushing a rock up a mountain, repeating meaningless work, or like Prometheus, enduring eternal torture for a flicker of light? He gazed at the city's neon lights, feeling a vast sense of void...
Instead, write this:
"Damn it."
Li Xiaoming forced himself to calm down.
Before long, he discovered there were more than seven or eight of these rotting corpses.
Looking around, the tree trunks here were all thick and massive, almost like alien species, with charred burn marks everywhere.
Those mushrooms poked out from the decaying corpses, glowing blue, almost merging into an ocean of light.
"No, I have to get out of this hellhole."
Li Xiaoming wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, gritted his teeth, and stood up with extreme difficulty.
However, in less than two seconds, he slumped back to the ground.
Hunger twisted in his stomach like a knife; he hadn't eaten for who knows how many days and was starving.
The light grew dimmer. Li Xiaoming kept trying, panting softly for a while.
Finally, his gaze fell on the corpse's right hand—specifically, on the nearly meter-long broadsword gripped in its skeletal fingers, which looked as if it were still emitting a chilling mist.
Fifth, do not write from an omniscient perspective.
Li Xiaoming did not know that the subway train he had just missed would experience a tragic, inhuman bombing three minutes later, and his life would thus take a completely different turn by a twist of fate.
Instead, write this:
Li Xiaoming took a deep breath.
"Brother, I'm sorry."
He stared at the corpse in silence for five seconds.
Despite feeling increasingly terrified, he endured the discomfort and leaned his upper body forward to pry away the fingers tightly locked onto the sword hilt.
"Hiss."
A wave of cold instantly seeped into his fingertips.
It was as if this wasn't just a rotting corpse, but ancient ice that had sat for a thousand years!
Li Xiaoming turned his head slightly, watching only with his peripheral vision. Two hands operated below.
Almost there.
Li Xiaoming was finally about to breathe a sigh of relief.
Suddenly, the corpse's empty right eye socket lit up.
"What... are... you... doing..."
