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墨書 Inktalez
The pride of the nation, the "contemporary genius writer" who should have been on the road to a brilliant future for the association, as the award speech said, limitless future. But... it's no longer the case—choosing to speak out means being prepared for it to no longer be the case! Even so, everything still came too quickly. For me, who is still running around in the middle of the night, there is no so-called dawn before the storm, only the despair of an impending storm, and the desolation of silence—oh, this world!
"I mean, what genius writer? The novels he writes are just an old set of doomsday, it's a joke!"
"I only had a moment of inspiration and won the grand prize, but now it seems like I've run out of ideas, right?" "In this high-tech era, innovation is essential. The plot of this novel is too cliché! It's completely below the standard of a writer who has won the Hua Deng Prize!" "Are you kidding me! I dare say this is absolutely the worst science fiction ever!" Negative comments online swept in like a tidal wave. The media, which had previously been flattering, now chose to mock, occasionally publishing articles with hidden meanings. Those with a conscience simply remained silent, as if turning a blind eye and a deaf ear, only to throw stones from the other side and watch the fire from afar.
I believe the most important quality for a creator is "persistence," so I never argued back. Arguing with those people would be a waste of my energy. I just didn't expect that in such a difficult and challenging situation, there would still be someone who could see through the surface and understand my intentions. Truly worthy of being my Zhong Ziqi!
This is Quan Du, he used to be my extremely loyal reader, and now he has become my very loyal lover - we are dependent wanderers, walking in this world of decay and chaos, never stopping.
Two months and six days, doesn't it feel like a very long summer vacation? If it were really summer vacation, the students would definitely feel happy. In fact, as time passes day by day, Quan Du and I have fewer and fewer ways, and we can only tease each other that we are each other's last resort.
This crisis certainly cannot be made public. Crisis can make people lose their sanity, and those without sanity are no different from wild beasts.
But is it really unavoidable to abandon everyone? Is it rational to save oneself and leave? I wrote another book, titled " Quan Du and Me", and my thoughts on Quan Du are too late, although she thinks it's just right.
After meeting her, every flower I saw, every colorful cloud, and every majestic mountain became more affectionate. Because of her, this journey of redemption seemed to be given new meaning, and all the beauty before it vanished seemed infinitely gentle.
And this world, such an extraordinary world, how can one not love it? I am just one of many ordinary people, yet the world loves generously, giving everyone, regardless of wealth or poverty, equal access to spring flowers, autumn moon, summer water, and winter snow.
It's really unexpected, occasionally serialized daily explosive news. Many of the long sighs that people regard as maxims are nothing more than the "experiences" of two people who have nothing and are covered in scars. There's no way to deceive life, and even more so, oneself, because I love this world—even if only 30 pitiful days remain, that's a full 720 hours, 43,200 minutes, 2,592,000 seconds.
The data is calculated with pen and paper, the bitterness is swallowed together, Quan Du truly makes people painfully awake. I think this is true, but being awake is always better than being groggy, right? My book finally has a small effect, young people are starting to think. Perhaps it's because the recent frequent occurrences of heavy rain, drought, floods, and earthquakes have been too much, the anomalies in the living environment are enough to make people alert, and doubt and fear are like a heart fire, once ignited, it won't easily be extinguished, and it seems to burn more fiercely and intensely.
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