<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"><channel><title>Dark-Comedy on Evil Genius</title><link>https://www.evilgenius.blog/tags/dark-comedy/</link><description>Recent content in Dark-Comedy on Evil Genius</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><copyright>© Evil Genius | In darkness, all things have spirit</copyright><lastBuildDate>Thu, 03 Jul 2025 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://www.evilgenius.blog/tags/dark-comedy/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>How to Sell a Ghost at Market Price | The Tale of Song Dingbo</title><link>https://www.evilgenius.blog/2025/07/how-to-sell-a-ghost-at-market-price-the-tale-of-song-dingbo/</link><pubDate>Thu, 03 Jul 2025 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>https://www.evilgenius.blog/2025/07/how-to-sell-a-ghost-at-market-price-the-tale-of-song-dingbo/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Song Dingbo was walking home late when he met the ghost.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Home was still fifteen li away. The road was dirt, frozen into ridges that caught the moonlight. Winter had killed the cicadas. The only sound was the crunch of his straw sandals on the hard ground. Song was eighteen years old and did not believe in ghosts. He had buried both parents before he turned twelve. He had watched his older brother cough blood into a rag for six months until the rag stopped being necessary. He had learned, in the way that only people who have lost everything can learn, that the world owed him nothing and he owed the world less. A ghost would have to work very hard to frighten him.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>