How was that? Simple and effective, right? That was how quickly an eager, self-improving system progressed—like riding a roller coaster!
A ten-thousand-word novel. Physical secrets. Parents. Reputation utterly ruined.
Those words struck Shi Jihan squarely on the crown like a thunderbolt from heaven.
His head buzzed.
Shi Jihan's entire world fell silent, and the light in his eyes went out with a snap.
"Oh my god, what's wrong with you?!"
The helpful employee who had been sharing the elevator with him quickly caught Shi Jihan as he slumped down like overcooked noodles. Seeing him limp and lifeless, he cried out in alarm, "Someone, quick! Screenwriter Shi has gone boneless!"
The helpful employee apparently had no idea how many loudspeakers he had swallowed. His booming voice instantly drew everyone's attention in the elevator.
"What happened? Low blood sugar?"
"Oh god, did Screenwriter Shi spring a leak?"
"Screenwriter Shi, pull yourself together! I'm cheering you on!"
The last employee to speak started chanting, "Heave-ho, heave-ho!"
A long-haired girl immediately pulled out a handful of wedding candy from her crossbody bag and swiftly stuffed it into Shi Jihan's mouth. "Have some chocolate. Quick energy boost, long-lasting power."
Shi Jihan stared blankly ahead, mechanically opening his mouth and biting the chocolate. He muttered, "Sweet... Is this what a last meal tastes like...?"
Another burly man tried pinching the spot beneath his nose. "Hang in there, brother! The ambulance will be here soon!"
Shi Jihan jolted from the pinch and finally came back to himself. In a voice as thin as a thread, he delivered his final words: "Don't, don't call an ambulance... Call a funeral band instead... It'd be easier to just send me off..."
Zero-Zero-Zero was so anxious that its code garbled. [Host, pull yourself together! Life is still beautiful!]
[...Shut up! You