He was stunned to find that his mind was actually covered with a layer of viscous mist.

The memories related to the novel seem to have become blurred under the shroud of fog.

In his previous life, as a writer, in order to write better works, he read many popular online articles several times, and even imitated them, so to speak, almost every plot was kept in mind, and every idea was repeatedly analyzed.

But now, he had no memory of these things that were almost impossible to forget, just a name and a few brief overviews.

In this way, it is impossible for him to copy those classics of his previous life.

Chen Feng searched in his mind over and over again in disbelief, but in response to him, there were only the stiff and desperate fragmented memories, and the content of the novels that had made him obsessed disappeared without a trace, making his heart empty and uncomfortable.

It's like a sling who has just become a billionaire, and before he has time to rejoice, only to find that everything is just a dream, and the huge contrast makes people almost frustrated.

"Memory loss? What are you kidding, does crossing also make people amnesia? And it's this kind of fragmentary style, I can even remember which book I read on which day, but I don't know the specific content of that book, hell. Chen Feng cursed in a panic, his face a little pale.

His mind was already very tenacious, but in the face of such a strange thing, it still made him shudder, and his back instantly felt a chill, soaked in cold sweat.

Soon, though, he scoffed and muttered.

"It's incredible, and it's not uncommon for some other situations to occur, and it's already the greatest luck to be alive, do you really think you're the protagonist?"

Slowly, Chen Feng calmed down and began to analyze his current situation.

If you think about it, fiction is an indispensable part of his life, and if this memory is really "missing", it is impossible for him to maintain the normality of other memories.

"Something is wrong, this kind of thing in my mind is obviously a very abstract existence, but I can feel the existence of the fog very concretely, like dust, sealing my memory, which is definitely boring."

"Those memories are by no means lost, perhaps, just that I have forgotten them temporarily, but why should I forget? How do I remember? ”

……

Gradually, his thoughts gradually became clearer, and even the fog was much more indifferent.

As his consciousness continued to extend into the depths of the mist, a gentle force held him out.

In that ethereal mind, there seemed to be a mysterious being, constantly whispering to him, telling him about the current situation.

"Insufficient clearance, what does that mean?"

"Has my memory become a bug in this world? Even I myself am not qualified to think about it, and I can only rely on the reputation accumulated in this world to unlock it? ”

"It sounds like the system upgrade stream in those novels, but who's behind all this?"

"Forget it, there's no point in thinking about these far-reaching things, for now, it's better to think of yourself as the protagonist in those books, and it may be the best choice to follow the steps."

Chen Feng, who was still clueless after thinking for a long time, thought helplessly, he took a deep breath and calmed down the surging emotions in his heart.

But back to the present, Chen Feng, who has no permission to read his own memory, can only write his own novels, which is really terrible news.

Based on his initial understanding of the world, he began to conceive.

said that it was an idea, but his thoughts were in a mess at the moment, and he couldn't calm down at all.

Although Chen Feng can easily control a short story of tens of thousands of words, he will feel extremely difficult to write an online article, or a novel, as long as the number of words reaches 100,000, and it is easy to write it.

The experience of failure made him doubt his ability for a while, and the embarrassment he encountered at the moment made him even more irritable.

"Damn, I don't believe it, with my own strength, in this world of declining literature, is it possible that I can't break through a way?" Chen Feng scolded with some indignation, but the panic in his heart couldn't be suppressed, his hand floated lightly above the keyboard, and he couldn't press it down.

If it is in the throat, the needle will prick the hand.

He remembered a novel he had written, which took him more than two months to complete after the college entrance examination and submitted it to a magazine.

It was probably a product between a magazine article and an online article, and it was also the first time he wrote a work of more than 100,000 words.

More than 100,000 words, densely written on a black notepad, are all essays, which are the bits and pieces recorded by his hard work in the three years of high school, and they are about the purest dreams of a teenager.

In order to be able to submit, he first practiced typing, and in order to keep the so-called thinking open and not limited by the speed of typing, he set a speed requirement of 15,000 per hour for himself.

For a novice, this is an extremely difficult task, and it took him about ten days to achieve it.

But when it came time to write officially, Chen Feng found that his train of thought was almost never smooth, and without any experience in writing novels, he could only stagger forward like a weak old woman.

Relying on the "whimsical ideas" accumulated over the past three years, he first wrote one fragment after another, tentatively designating these as "points".

He racked his brains to connect the fragments together, connecting them with dots; And do his best to use words to pile up a grand world, weaving noodles with threads.

He put a lot of energy into this book, and while the rest of his classmates were having fun, he spent it with the sound of keyboard clicks.

About ten days before the end of the holiday, he typed the last word, and finally couldn't hold back his tears.

A thick stack of manuscripts was printed, packed in brown envelopes, and mailed.

The stone sank into the sea, and there was no news.

However, such a result did not seem to make Chen Feng too frustrated at that time.

On the first day of college life, he sat calmly at his desk, turned on the computer, and skillfully typed the introduction of a novel.

It was probably from that moment that Chen Feng officially embarked on the road of writing, and the road ahead was long and boundless, and he didn't know what was waiting for him, but that heart had no hesitation.

……

The past, the past.

"Time has passed, and the vicissitudes of life have changed, but I don't know if the heart that could chase dreams back then is still there now?"

"I'm afraid it's long gone." Chen Feng smiled bitterly and asked himself.

"Isn't I as old as seventeen years old in that world?"

He whispered this, like a bell striking in his heart, so that his originally somewhat loose eyes condensed, he raised his hand and pressed it heavily.

"Smack."

A crisp sound, like a prelude to a movement.

"Click, click, click......"

A grand concert was played under Chen Feng's fingers.

"In the name of dreams, set off ......", this is the first sentence of the story.