Hello everyone.

I'm sorry to pause for a while.

As you may have guessed, something happened at home, and my father was seriously ill, which was the name I didn't dare to say......

These days, it's like a pot of porridge in my head. I couldn't have imagined that such misfortune could have befallen so quickly.

If only there was really a cultivator, refining an elixir would cure my father's illness, and then, the days would still be as plain, calm, ordinary, chaotic, and harmonious as before......

My father is a rough man, he never likes to read, and he only picks up old-school wars and spy wars on TV. That day, I sat in front of his bed, told him the story I had written, and told him that I had written 1.5 million words, and now I had a small monthly income enough to buy cigarettes.

After listening to me talk about the part where he finished looking for mink in the mountains and the mysterious tree hole, he was already a little tired, and said with a smile: Where did you come up with so many gods and immortals!

I know he's not interested in my stories, but he's about writing them

I'm very interested, and I should be supportive.

Recently, I have been in a terrible state, I dare not be alone, I can't eat, and I have never felt stress, helplessness and sadness. I know in my heart that the reason why I am almost forty years old can always be like a child at home, can be willful, and can evade responsibilities is because of my father......

But what can I do now?

Close my eyes, that is, when I was a child, my father took me to the public bath to take a bath, helped me scrub, and took me to fish in the puddle behind the house, I caught it, but he didn't harvest, a helpless face, he gave me shrimp dumplings, and would pick the shrimp line one by one, and sweat profusely, he would also criticize me, treat me as a child, but never noisy, just hummed and said a few words, turned his head and left, it seemed that he was afraid of saying too much, causing my disgust, when I encountered difficulties, he would always listen to me quietly, let me say a word: It's okay!

He said it was okay, and I was really okay in my heart!

When my father fell ill, I realized that I was really a child! a child who talked about ideals, daydreamed, and had no responsibilities!

"Spiritual Realm" If there is really a cultivation of immortals, it would be good It is hitting in the hand, please wait for a while,

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