There is always a possibility of deviation between the ideal and the reality in many cases.

I was originally going to write about the supernatural and the tomb hunting and exploration of the text, but it seems to have been written as history + traditional mythology + immortal cultivation.

I've always wanted to fix it, but I always feel like I can't start in my spare time.

Do you want to continue writing down the old route, or do you want to find a way to make a circle?! Or do you want to start writing a new story all over again?!

I've been struggling......

This entanglement has passed for several months, and in reality, many aspects are also inhuman.

It's because there are trade-offs involved.

And there are always some gains and losses between trade-offs.

In terms of your insistence, I should continue to write, no matter what it looks like in the end, the number of words will always exceed a million. At that time, the realm of personal writing will be stronger than it is now.

Before and after, here and there, there are all kinds of things, and I want to write seven or eight hundred thousand words.

Nothing? Not really.

Do you get a lot of money? Not entirely.

A lot of holes have been dug in front of me, and it seems that none of them have been filled yet, but I am almost buried by confusion and lack of so-called inspiration.

Can't write anymore? Beyond one's power?

But we all know that no one will succeed casually.

The vast online literature is like a sea of smoke, and the hardships of those gods standing at the top of the pyramid can be imagined when they were young.

It seems that it still needs to be accumulated, whether it is the so-called professionalism or human nature or even all aspects of life.

The road is at your feet, and there are thousands of mountains and rivers.

One step away, the end of the world.

I'm not the god of medicine,

Let the bullets fly.

Sunny days,

Evil does not prevail over good.

color ring,

Evil in the East and Poison in the West.

anti-drug,

Accidentally.

In a hurry,

The girls we chased together in those years.

Later we,

A small town story.

Rizhao Chongqing,

Chicken feathers all over the place.

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