May had ended, and today was Children's Day. First, I sincerely wished all readers with children: may your children be healthy and happy on this holiday.
Looking back on May, this was the first time this book had competed for monthly votes. I posted four separate chapters asking for votes, and the results were better than I had expected. It was also the first time my monthly votes had broken a thousand. Of course, it couldn't compare to the results of those veteran writers, but for me, it was already very good.
The worst thing about May was that I had failed to fulfill my promises. Not only had I been cursed to high heaven by readers, but I myself had felt like a fishbone stuck in my throat, unable to sleep or eat in peace, anxious beyond measure.
Yet as a non-professional writer, I couldn't simply sit at home and write in peace. Whether it was troubles at work or trifles in life, they kept appearing day after day. Perhaps that was what living a real life truly meant. I believed many readers who had entered society understood this deeply.
Therefore, the free time I had planned for writing whenever I made a promise was always abruptly interrupted... Some troublesome matters were difficult to speak of, and I couldn't very well bring them out as excuses to ask everyone for leave. I had also considered casually making up a reason to take leave, but I felt there was really no need. Getting into the habit of making things up would be bad.
I myself couldn't possibly be like the protagonist I created in the book, telling lies without restraint. That was merely another kind of halo I had bestowed upon the protagonist. It wasn't as some readers said—that the