As I write, I hear the voice of my youth:
"Mr. Lin, it was you who questioned the Goddess of Life Lotasha in public. You questioned Mr. Olivers?"
"No, I just... I just want to know if he was coerced..."
"So you slandered Mr. Olivers and thought there were loopholes in his plot."
"No! That's not it! Don't you reporters understand? What I mean is that I am concerned about his safety."
"So you still think that there are loopholes in Mr. Olivers's plot, and you question his writing style."
“I, I…”
"You questioned him, Mr. Lin. Now, there are many people on the Internet who are dissatisfied with you. Some people even reported your family information and put dead rats at your door. What do you think about this..."
Lin Hejin closed his eyes in pain.
He took off his reading glasses tremblingly and breathed in and out.
At this time, a sloppy man walked in, stood with his arms folded, and frowned: "Dad? Why don't you just lie down and write again? How old are you? You didn't write anything when you were young, so what good can you write now? Don't fall anywhere, or you'll have to trouble me to take you to the hospital."
Lin Hejin shook his head: "This is a work I have been conceiving for my entire life... It is a gift to my life, I must finish it."
The man said impatiently, "I've been writing for decades, but I still haven't finished it. I've revised it again and again. I told you long ago that you're not cut out for writing! If you had been an honest worker when you were young, I wouldn't be so poor!"
Lin Hejin was so angry that he waved his hands and said, "Go! Go! Go quickly! You won't lose a penny of your property. Don't hang around here!"
Upon hearing this, the man immediately showed a satisfied look, turned around and left.
The room suddenly became quiet, with only the sound of the pens rubbing against each other.
Lin Hejin lowered his head and smiled bitterly.
I have lived a miserable life.
When he was young, he was poor and destitute. Because he questioned "The Goddess of Life Lotasha", he was mocked by netizens, his box was opened by people, and he was targeted offline... The existence of Olives itself is both a brilliant art palace and a huge literary inquisition. No one is allowed to question or slander, otherwise it will be regarded as deviant.
Since then, Lin Hejin could no longer publish a complete manuscript, and all editors rejected him. He could only survive by ghostwriting some scattered student essays, dream essays, and short stories.
Even Ran Bo, who had a similar experience as him, has now become a PhD at the Central Research Institute, but he is still a wasted person.
The daily necessities of life are tight, and people are reluctant to sit in the better seats of the cat-type cars, and they have to think carefully before ordering takeout... The life of ordinary people is like this, time passes by quickly, and there is not a trace of the protagonist's excitement.
However, he was always conceiving a literature of his own in his mind.
Even if it is destined to never be seen by others, he wants to have his own story in this life.
If people like him are destined to be just slimes at the protagonist's feet in this life, then he wants to be a happy slime.
“It’s ridiculous that I’ve worked hard all my life and written more than 20 million words, but I’m still just a D-level creator…” Lin Hejin laughed at himself: “Oliviers was a C-level creator from the beginning…”
He shook his head and continued to immerse himself in the idea of the story.
After decades of planning, his story has come to an end. In recent days, he has noticed that his health is getting worse and worse, and even the doctor has begun to give him instructions about his inheritance. He knows that he must write the ending.
He picked up his pen and slowly wrote on the last two pages of the thick manuscript:
[…The boy walked a very long way, holding an oil lamp, and finally headed in a direction he was familiar with.]
[He saw a wasteland with white seagulls, rolling hills, and golden sand.]
Yes, it is a wasteland.
[The boy hesitated, but still walked over.]
[Has he walked for so long and still gained nothing in the end? ]
[His friend, a nightingale, landed on his shoulder and called out:]
[“Your hometown, your hometown, has been filled up!”]
[“Filled by the wrath of the great tree, by the distant gods!”]
[“Oh, my friend, my friend, you can never come back home, you can never come back home…”]
…
Central Research Institute.
In the laboratory, under the influence of the authority of "time", the flow of time was slowed down to the slowest. Several years passed here, but only a few minutes in the outside world.
Ran Bo has been calculating carefully for three years.
Day and night, forgetting to eat and sleep. His body was visibly weakening, but because he was injected with the best nutrient solution, he was forced to maintain high-intensity calculations. He was skin and bones, and his eye sockets were sunken.
Xiaobai looked at the data and muttered to himself:
"The data is almost ready. The artificial Rin tribe still lacks a body and a soul. Hui Bai has gone out to look for it. He should be back soon..."
…
Inside the World Tree.
The Lord of the World and Qi Zhou walked towards the core of the World Tree, one in front and one behind.
The dim lights flickered, and the two people had their own thoughts.
"…We're here!" Suddenly, the Lord's eyes lit up and he looked delighted.
What comes into view is a huge bookcase, with wooden shelves embracing a 360° circle, leaving only a small space in the center. A spiral wooden staircase extends upwards, and each floor is filled with books that look like the vast starry sky.
Looking around, there are thousands... no, bookshelves after bookshelves, books after books. There are more than 20,000 books here!
My dear, there is more to this chapter. Please click on the next page to continue reading. It’s even more exciting later!
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