The man was a student.

There was only one reason he could sit in the classroom: to write.

Although his composition has not even been understood by the teacher, although his Chinese score is the first.

But the pen in his hand did not stop for a moment.

Write, write.

Day after day, year after year.

Finally, perhaps God was moved by his persistence, and won the first prize in the Youth Essay Competition.

He couldn't believe it, his head was clouded.

Later, I found out that it was a child with the same name as himself.

Everything around us, the good ones leave quickly, but the bad ones follow us.

The boy's pen also stopped waving.

Years later, a man stopped breathing, and beside him was paper, lots of paper, lots of words on it.

The man held a pen in his hand and replied forcefully with a smiling expression.

Chapter 14 of "The Strange Counterattack of the Little Follower": The pen is being typed, please wait for a while,

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