It had been exactly forty days since I started this book.
The emotional journey during that time could be summed up in four words: "torment and pain."
Especially when the platform reformed its new-book system in May—I didn't know about it and thought there was something wrong with my writing.
After half a month, I had fewer than three hundred bookmarks and fewer than thirty readers keeping up with the latest chapters.
Honestly, it was the worst data I'd seen since I started writing. I nearly became a eunuch.
Luckily, friends encouraged me, my editor encouraged me, and I still had a bit of an obsession with this book, so I ultimately persevered.
I thought that once May was over, I could settle down and write, building up a backlog.
Then, on June 1st, I tested positive. I ran a fever for three days straight and spent one day on an IV drip.
All my plans were thrown into chaos.
Even now, as I write these thoughts, I'm still comforting myself with "good things take time."
Tears in my eyes.
To be honest, I really love this book's story.
As a working stiff who'd been a beast of burden for over a decade, I truly wrote out the life I'd dreamed of even in my sleep.
I, too, want to "pick chrysanthemums beneath the eastern hedge, serenely gaze upon the southern mountains." I, too, hope to remain "calm and composed, yet turn the tide." And I want beautiful women by my side too...
Let dreams be the horse beneath our feet; let us not fail our finest years.
Lastly, I'm asking for tomorrow's first-day subscriptions and monthly votes.
I won't say anything else—when it comes to updates, I'll give it everything I've got. I'll write as much as I can.