In the early hours of this morning, I went to the company to work the night shift and worked overtime until six o'clock in the morning to go home.

However, after two extra months of classes, the project ended today, and on the last weekend before the Spring Festival, I finally got through it.

This month, it is rare to leave work before 8 o'clock, and it has become the norm to get home after 10 o'clock in the evening, even on weekends. Since the three-day holiday on New Year's Day, I don't know what the weekend looks like.

Needless to say, the work is heavy, and who hasn't had some bitter tears in the big city these days, I'm lucky enough. At the very least, you can still chase your hobbies outside of work.

And no matter how good the work is, no matter how tight the time is, fortunately, I kept writing and didn't stop this month.

In fact, the 10th, 13th, 14th, 15th, and 16th of this month, that is, the middle of the month, almost can't hold on.

After all, newcomers don't have much experience, and I almost always write and upload that night and upload the next day. If you work overtime until late at night on one day and go back at eleven or twelve o'clock, you have to look forward to not working too late the next day.

In those days, almost every day, I dragged my tired body and dizzy head, took time to sleep on the bus for twenty or thirty minutes, and when I got home, I endured my sleepiness and rushed to complete the day's update before twelve o'clock.

Therefore, by the end of the month, there is no extra mood to ask for recommendation votes. It's satisfying to be able to write so consistently, and I know that the quality of my updates is uneven, and I really don't have the cheekiness to ask for votes.

Now, that's all in the past.

And at the end of the first month of the new year, I looked back and summed it up, only to find that, ah, that's it.

Grit your teeth and there is nothing you can't hold onto.

It's ridiculous and sad to think about the days when I was idle and left work every day, and then I felt that the task of updating a chapter every day was simply difficult. When writing itself has become a luxury, the pretensions of the past have become a joke.

Moreover, when the above words were typed out on the keyboard, I was still laughing at myself in my heart, what is hypocrisy? It's just one change a day.

I can't even write a tenth of the magnificent and intense stories in my heart, what is there to be proud of?

Counting the identity of a reader, I have been in the online literature circle for some years, and many of the gods I know are middle-aged, and the pressure of supporting a family and work is much heavier than that of me, a single otaku, but there are two more, three more, and four watches every day, and the stories are wonderful, countless.

There is a return for pay, and between gains and losses, it is life.

Thinking like this, I feel much more at ease.

When I was free, I always thought that if only I could write full-time and create freely. In those past days, I even thought of it madly and fainted, and I never forgot it in my mind, as if I was enchanted.

Now I feel that it would be nice to be able to keep writing.

There is one thing in life that can make you like it indifferently, and you are lucky enough. The joy of writing is the greatest gift that life has given me in the past two years. In the past, I didn't fall into the likes of games, online articles, anime, etc., but happiness was always short-lived, and it was as if there was always a hole in my heart, which was empty and never filled.

However, it is now filled.

"This place of peace is my hometown." Others regard it as a miasma of death, but a lowly concubine can say such a sonorous voice, and those who are in the same heart may understand.

Of course, not without regrets.

When I wrote this, I stopped, flipped through the story that I had almost 200 chapters of, and suddenly felt a little lost.

At 600,000 words, the story I want to tell is still foggy, and when I think about my ambition a year ago, the gap between my ideal and reality is really melancholy.

But it's okay, just a bare newcomer, a novice without any burden, nothing more than continue to write, continue to change, write and change, change and change. Thinking about my dream of being on the shelves not long ago, I suddenly felt really ashamed. Such a sparse story, is it embarrassing to cheat money on the shelves?

Write well, change it well. Self-encouragement.

Of course, as a newcomer who is in a hurry, I know that the first 180 chapters must be full of loopholes, if you are still patient when you see this, you may wish to give more advice in the book review area, inconsistencies, logical confusion, typos and other mistakes, please help correct them. Thank you.

The Spring Festival is coming, my birthday is coming, and I am going to be a year older.