Grasping Evil

Another year has passed!

Mentally retarded ink still hasn't finished writing the obsessive demon, the book friends around them came and went, came and went, after a few rounds, turned back suddenly before realizing that the book still lives in the light.

The book has not been finished for four and a half years due to the slow update of the ink. (From August '13 to now, it's four and a half years, isn't it? It's so simple, it can't be wrong!

In a long update, the book poured the youth of ink, and it must have accompanied the youth of some of the bookmates.

The surrounding area is obviously a festive atmosphere for the New Year, but somehow, I don't recall the joyful memories, but rather the despair when I first wrote this book.

That year, in Grandma's coma ward, the doctors asked the families if they wanted to continue to breathe or if they would give up their tubes. Do you want to give up? I saw mothers, uncles and brothers all crying, all silent, no one wanted to give up, but they were too weak, all pressed by the burden of life, no one dared to give birth to their grandmothers to live for a few more days.

I hated them at the time. I hated why they didn't give birth to a family miscarriage to treat their grandmother. If it went on, there might be one in 10,000 hopes, maybe one in a million hopes...

But when I realized the hardship of life, I realized that when they were silent, they were equally desperate and remorseful. At that time, the elder uncle was unemployed at home; the mother opened a small, fee-for-month shop with a monthly income of only 1,000; and the elder uncle's job was just one or two thousand wages, living in middle age without a house of her own and living with her grandmother.

They are not the millionaires who throw a thousand gold in CEO's manuscripts and TV dramas. They are not the kind of people who love one person and have to give up the protagonists of novels. They are just ordinary people, people with flesh and blood, and people who are weak and strong enough to feed a family.

Eventually, they didn't unplug the tube, but they didn't have the money to continue the treatment.

So he was discharged, so he bought an oxygen cylinder and went home to deliver oxygen, and Grandma left.

Before Grandma Ling, my uncle cried and broke his heart. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed that arrogant men in the weekdays would have cried like fools. I think, at that time, uncle, was probably the most painful and regrettable man. Hate your mediocrity, hate your weakness, hate your powerlessness.

We were all too weak, and I was a little bit of a second, that's what I thought. I can't even save my grandmother for a hundred bucks compared to my helpless uncle and others.

So I made a dark vow that even if I wrote a little h, even if I went down the dark road, I would earn a little money to support my family.

It is precisely because of the infusion of this middle and second mood, the early drama of the exorcism, that Ningfan would be the image of such a stubborn teenager. His childish and imperfect character is actually just a microcosm of the author.

So, the demon didn't call it that name at first, it was just a little h text; the ink of the year was just a little white author, it didn't pave the scene, there was no book on the shelf, and the writing level was limited.

At that time, when someone commented in the book review area, I was happy as a fool. (Afterwards, I didn't dare to read the book rating area, I was afraid to see negative comments)

Back then, back sickness was getting worse, and the only support was writing a book. (Back sickness is basically better now, except you can't exercise hard enough, it's no big deal)

My back ached so much that I couldn't walk, I had to bite my teeth to walk. At that time, a hundred meters of road, I could walk and stop for 10 minutes, stopping halfway and sitting on the side of the road several times. (Now I can walk a few kilometers in one breath without breathing!

At that time, nobody thought I could make money writing books, not even myself. But at that time, there was no way for me to make money doing anything other than writing. (Now I'm basically in the early stages of socialism!

This is my last chance, and I'm eager to grasp it, and I'm not really that passionate about writing, because I had a headache writing in high school, and I just had to do it, and when my loved ones left one by one, I didn't want to be so hopeless anymore.

Yes, that's right, that's a little second-class, a little radical Ningfan, which is the beginning of my writing.

It is the purpose of this book to grieve for its weakness and never bow down to destiny.

Later I realized that no one in this world is weak, no one is weak.

Everyone lives with their teeth bitten, and if they live up to their responsibilities, even if they are poorer and mediocre, they cannot be considered weak.

It's New Year's Eve, and I want to thank those who have been with me and those who are still with me today.

Happy New Year!

Don't forget it!