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MidReal Story
Yin contract
Scenario:世界观：
现代都市背景，但暗藏古老民俗禁忌（冥婚、风水煞局、活人献祭等）。
存在“阴阳间隙”——普通人偶然触发特定条件（如午夜烧纸、生辰八字相冲）时会进入灵异空间。
传统道教符咒、阴间鬼市、因果报应等元素交织。
主角：
陈默，28岁，普通公司职员，天生“阴命”（八字全阴），自幼容易撞邪。
因幼年一场大病被奶奶用“借阳寿”的禁术救活，从此与阴间产生联系。
性格隐忍敏感，被迫在灵异事件中逐渐觉醒通灵能力。
核心悬念：
主角身上被种下的“阴契”实为百年前一场未完成的冥婚契约，所有灵异事件均指向幕后操控者——一位试图借主角躯壳还魂的民国厉鬼。
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Chen Mo
He is an office worker with a unique spiritual background. He is sensitive,curious,and burdened. Chen Mo experiences strange events from childhood due to his yin life and the "borrowing of yang life" technique by his grandmother. He unwittingly becomes a puppet for a centuryold ghost,trying to understand and resolve the supernatural chaos while maintaining his normal life and relationships,especially with his childhood friend,Ye Zhihan.
Ghost (Puppet Master)
He is a malevolent ghost from the Republic era. He is manipulative,persistent,and cunning. This ghost discovers Chen Mo's unique spiritual profile and uses him as a substitute to achieve his goals after failing to find a suitable host. His actions drive most of the supernatural events in Chen Mo's life as he tries to fulfill an unfinished contract involving sacrifice and transformation.
Grandma Chen
She is Chen Mo's grandmother with extraordinary spiritual abilities. She is wise,protective,and enigmatic. Grandma Chen saves Chen Mo's life using forbidden techniques and becomes a guardian for him against the supernatural threats. Her decision to connect him with the underworld intentionally positions him for future roles in resolving ghostly matters. Her actions remain mysterious but crucial in shaping Chen Mo's encounters with the paranormal world.
I was born with a life of pure yin.
I didn't know this until I was twenty-eight years old.
At that time, I was forced to realize that my life was different from others.
This was the beginning of a series of disasters.
It all started with my illness.
When I was young, I almost died, but my grandma saved me by using a technique called "borrowing yang life."
She connected me to the underworld so that I could survive.
After that, I became even more sensitive to spiritual disturbances.
Sometimes, I would see things that other people couldn't see.
I saw ghosts and shadowy figures following me.
I thought it was normal because I had been seeing them since I was a child.
However, I didn't know that this was all related to the "yin contract" until much later.
It wasn't until I was twenty-eight years old that I discovered the truth about my life and the "yin contract."
Everything changed after that.
I began to understand why so many strange things had happened in my life.
I realized that it was all connected to the ghost market and the ghostly affairs of the Republic era.
A series of supernatural events occurred, and I found myself caught up in them.
I sit in the dimly lit archives of Shanghai Library, poring over yellowed newspapers from 1935.
The musty scent of old paper fills my nostrils as I scan through reports of mysterious deaths and disappearances near Huaihai Road.
Jiang Hongbo sits across from me, methodically marking relevant pages with sticky notes.
A particular article catches my eye - a wealthy merchant's daughter who vanished on her wedding night, leaving behind only a blood-stained dress.
My fingers trace over the words, imagining the fear and panic that must have gripped the family.
Suddenly, a photo catches my eye - a bride in traditional dress, her face eerily similar to the shadowy figure I've been seeing in my dreams.
I reach to turn the page, but as I do, the lights above us flicker ominously.
A cold draft sweeps through the room, sending shivers down my spine.
I freeze, my hand hovering over the page as the emergency lights flicker on, casting an eerie red glow over the archives.
Jiang Hongbo immediately begins drawing protective symbols with his finger, muttering ancient incantations under his breath.
I watch in horror as the bride's photograph begins to blur and shift before my eyes, her features morphing into something more three-dimensional, as if she's emerging from the page itself.
My hands tremble as I try to close the newspaper, but the pages seem to stick to my fingers like wet paper.
The air around us grows colder by the second, and I can see my breath misting in front of me.
A rustling sound comes from behind the shelves, growing louder with each passing second.
I force my trembling legs to move, stepping between the towering metal shelves.
The rustling grows more distinct - like silk dragging across carpet.
My phone's flashlight beam cuts through the darkness, illuminating rows of books with frost spreading across their spines.
The temperature plummets further, and I can see my breath misting in front of me.
Something shifts in my peripheral vision, but when I turn, there's only empty space between the shelves.
The rustling stops directly behind me.
My muscles lock up as I feel something brush against the back of my neck - like silk against skin.
I turn slowly, heart pounding, to find the bride's ghost standing inches away, her eyes filled with a sorrow that pierces through the veil of time.
My limbs feel like lead, refusing to move as the ghost's cold presence holds me in place.
Through my peripheral vision, I see Jiang Hongbo's hands moving in precise patterns, yellow paper talismans glowing between his fingers.
His voice rises in a steady chant of ancient words that seem to vibrate through the air.
The bride's form wavers like smoke in wind, her Outline becoming less distinct.
Her eyes remain locked on mine as she slowly backs away, her image growing flat and grainy.
With a final, haunting gaze, she dissolves back into the pages, leaving only the echo of her sorrow in the silent room.
I slump against the bookshelf, my legs finally giving out as warmth seeps back into the archive room.
Jiang Hongbo quickly steadies me, his hand still clutching the half-burnt talismans.
The emergency lights continue their red pulse, casting an ominous glow over the scene.
I glance down at the newspaper still clutched in my hands.
The bride's photograph has changed - her face now bears visible tear stains, and her traditional wedding dress shows dark patches I hadn't noticed before.
My fingers trace the aged paper, and a sharp pain shoots through my chest.
The same burning sensation I felt during my childhood illness returns, making me double over.
Still hunched over from the chest pain, I pull myself up using the bookshelf and examine the newspaper more closely.
The bride's tear-stained photograph seems to pulse with a faint glow, as if the image itself is alive.
I notice that the margins of the yellowed paper now contain Chinese characters - written in what looks like dried blood.
Jiang Hongbo leans in closer, his voice low and cautious.
"These symbols... they're part of an ancient dialect, used in rituals long forgotten."
He points to one of the characters.
"This one means 'spirit contract.' And this one..."
He traces another symbol with his finger.
"It translates to 'borrowed life.'"
My hands shake as I realize these terms were used in the ritual my grandmother performed to save me.
A chill runs down my spine as I understand the connection between this ghost bride and my own existence.