Sometimes I wonder—what kind of novel am I really trying to write?
I have always known, yet I have always kept asking.
Last night, I went out to dinner with friends.
Sitting in the back seat of a taxi, I watched the night scenery flash past the window, so blurred that I could not make out a thing.
All at once, so many images came to mind.
Ling He racing across Zhao Lang's stone wall with Wei Yan's blade in hand. Using the old gentleman's ruler to lash Zhuang Gaoxian across the face...
After Jiang Wang finally avenged himself, no longer suppressing himself as he threw back his head and howled amid a rain of blood.
These images had appeared in my mind as early as when I finished the first volume.
I held back for so long before meeting them at the most fitting moment.
I am so fortunate.
To be favored by these images, and to receive the support of so many people, allowing me to depict them with meticulous care.
I often wonder—how else can I write?
Red Heart Patrolling the Heavens has now reached 6.5 million characters, without a single repeated plotline or identical emotion. Readers' thresholds keep rising, and in truth, so do authors'. How should I write so that those of you who have read 6.5 million characters will still find it thrilling? How should I write so that I, who have already written these 6.5 million characters, can still feel excited and fulfilled?
There is no answer to that question.
Sometimes inspiration favors me; sometimes I stew and struggle. All I can do is keep moving forward, walk on and on, watching as I go.
Thinking back to my last vacation.
It feels like it happened in a past life.
That time, I