Old friends all knew my heart wasn't in great shape. These past two years, I'd practically been taking more medicine than food. Every day, I couldn't go without fast-acting heart pills or Shexiang Baoxin pills; I took Shensong Yangxin capsules three times a day, aminophylline when it was cloudy, asthma medication twice every other day, plus piracetam, nitroglycerin, aluminum hydroxide tablets for my stomach, and some hydrochloride-whatever spray. But even with all that, when it really got bad, no medicine worked. I had trouble breathing, broke out in cold sweats, and my head felt muddled. That happened yesterday...
But no matter what, I kept going.
Why?
So readers could have a little more to read, so my editor could have better results, and so I could earn a little more.
No QQ, no music, no movies, no anime, no novels, no going out, no going downstairs, no exercise, no meeting friends, no visiting relatives... Lao Chang still kept it up: over ten thousand words every day, while maintaining the quality of every day's plot.
This was the hardest I'd ever worked. This was the most desperately I'd ever fought.
The end of the month was almost here. Whether my results could climb another step depended on these final dozen or so days. Whether all my effort had been in vain also depended on these final dozen or so days. I was still fewer than two hundred votes away from the top three on the new book Monthly Ticket Chart. I didn't know if I could catch up, but I wanted to try—not for anything else, but for all I'd put in these days, for my editor's generous support, and for all my readers' encouragement.
Desperately seeking monthly tickets.
It's an emergency!!!