Words upon launching!

Everyone is unique and believes they are extraordinary. I am no exception! Writing liberates the soul and lets the spirit soar; with this in mind, I took flight. I never proofread my work—once I finish typing, I simply send it off. Alas! I am lazy, willful, and stubbornly unrepentant. I suppose I must leave some mistakes for readers to criticize, yet I remain stubbornly confident.

After signing the contract, I discovered that my editor was a soft-spoken girl with a loli voice. I thought teasing the editor should come first, with writing relegated to second place.

Everyone is different, but you are never truly special.

Many predecessors have taken teasing their editors as their mission. The editor, a delightful soft-spoken girl nicknamed Fried Rice, has been trained by this group of rascals into a queen. No sooner had I spoken than I was locked away in the “black room,” a.k.a. the punishment chamber.

The black room isn’t frightening—not the whips, not the dripping wax. Nothing scares me, as long as its keeper isn’t a scruffy uncle clad in black lace. This time, I was locked in for half a month.

So, I continued typing and soaring, but this time I flew a little too far. One careless slip—just a tiny bit of recklessness—and a passage of mine was suspended in the group chat for four whole hours. Labeled “pornographic”! Beneath that short piece, someone left a sarcastic comment: “This little work has prose worthy of a Nobel Prize in Literature.”

The congratulations from the scoundrels in the group left me shamelessly unproud.

“Big brother, hello!” A private message flashed. It was a fellow sufferer who was also publicly reprimanded before me for disgusting scene descriptions—“Fire Forged Immortal” by Cang Si Ting Feng.

We exchanged a few comforting words, discovering we were tearful countrymen. Sneaking a peek at his work quickly dampened my enthusiasm for further conversation.

His word count lagged behind mine, but his clicks, bookmarks, and recommendations outnumbered mine a hundredfold. Such a vast difference—even as a fellow countryman—I had no desire to continue chatting. People are just that petty, aren’t they?

This earnest fellow insisted on keeping the conversation going, explaining how he read, revised, and rewrote repeatedly until satisfied.

Success has no other reason—only diligent effort and a serious attitude.

My old face had nowhere to hide.

Determined not to lose face again, I began to write seriously. Every sentence, every detail was pondered for a long time. No more wasting time in idle chatter. (Besides, I was in the black room.)

The loli-voiced queen editor Fried Rice (though the name felt awkward—shouldn’t it be “baby-faced busty girl”?) was actually very conscientious. She did not disdain us criminals locked in the black room, and when I was disheartened, she recommended my work.

With a heart full of gratitude, I began the grueling task of writing an average of six thousand words a day. Unconsciously, my word count approached three hundred thousand, and my data steadily improved.

Until one reader left a comment: “Dear author, I think you should publish officially now.” Only then did I realize I was about to face either the gallows or the stake.

Glancing at my pitiful bookmarks and recommendations, I sighed. Who told you to be lazy and not visit other authors, leave comments, and exchange mutual praise?

But whatever—my book is about survival and hardship. Let the readers walk this path alongside the protagonist and set the flame of life ablaze even more brilliantly.

Once again, I thank the quietly hardworking editor, Queen Fried Rice.

Thank you, Cang Si Ting Feng of “Fire Forged Immortal,” who made me feel utterly ashamed.

Thanks to the old scoundrel Zhuge Fengxian of “Talisman Chronicles,” who leisurely guards hundreds of thousands of stored words.

Thanks to the diligent Heart Vest of “Never Back Down,” who toils steadily and will surely reap rewards.

Thanks to Fate of “Pursuing Immortal Dreams,” who pursues dreams with unwavering effort.