I remember all of this, yet I cannot remember the face of any of the workers. Among them, there may have been a fifty-year-old, short yet stout and robust laborer, or an unassuming young man with a thick neck who could lift a bundle of rebar with his bare hands, or even someone pushing a dusty red wheelbarrow transporting lime. In earlier days, some might have worn camouflage uniforms.

I remember all of this, but I have never known the name of any worker. Some might be named Wang, some Zhao, and some might share my surname. Yet, even if I passed by the construction site countless times, only the towering cranes caught my attention, not the workers squatting by the roadside, covered in dust, with trowels and electric hammers casually placed by their feet, and a half-stack of broken red bricks we used for playful banter, treating them as toys.

I ultimately remember, and often see at a glance, the square and proper activity center with its undulating edges—gray but not somber—but I never remember, nor often see at a glance, the appearance of the workers who built it.

From this perspective, emphasizing the functional role of a character and insisting they die with meaning is pointless.

Just like how construction workers hold no meaning to the skyscrapers themselves.

Death is just death; disappearance is just disappearance. In the face of an absolute Grand Narrative, nothing can stand in its way. The tides of time will overwhelm everyone.

I don't think saying these things is anything to be embarrassed about, or based on the notion that 'everyone is already so tired; why not write something light-hearted?' This is simply the truth.

I can't write those determined and unyielding characters who inevitably die and bring tears to one's eyes. I often find myself watching videos of the Russia-Ukraine battlefield, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and traffic accidents.

I intentionally let myself form a fixed understanding: people can die like dogs anywhere, any corner.

Life is not precious; life is priceless. Nothing can be exchanged for life, and to achieve any outcome, a price must be paid.

So, when Nomi was resurrected, she was destined never to meet Li Aozi again. After Du Zexin returned from Sky Ring, he was already contaminated by Ether Blood, so he continuously struggles and wanders in pain and identity recognition; giving him death was instead a liberation.

It was precisely Li Aozi who killed Du Zexin, coldly and swiftly, fitting his character.

When Yawen exposed her identity, she also feared this reason because Li Aozi could indeed kill the [Tailor] casually, like killing a rabbit.

Some may think Qiu Ran's part is well-written, but for a long time, I didn't want to discuss this character because, in my view, she should have died straightforwardly and promptly to fit normal logic; spending too much on her made it tedious instead.

Many times, readers would compare me to some famous works, like Super Mechanical Engineer or Dawning Sword, which is quite normal. Just like players of Yuangeng Nongzhou, they always compare what they encounter with their favorite works. In essence, this is humanity's basic way to comprehend and understand the world.

Humanity cannot directly understand the world; one can only compare and refer through known things, indirectly observing the world. If you tell a color-blind person that green is green and red is not green, they must first understand what you mean by red before knowing the difference between green and red.

I am actually very willing to be compared. To be blunt, literature is a service industry, and an author is like a chef. Even public reviews have ratings; works being compared is only natural. But comparing others with me is fine; don't compare my books with others.

Because I belong to the kind: a breeding pig drooling in front of the breeding station—Do you also deserve it?

I am definitely not worthy to be a standard of evaluation. To be blunt, my success until now is entirely because the author of Super Mechanical Engineer, Qi Peijia, was in poor health, and everyone had nothing to read, so they took me as a substitute.

I am just a Phantom Beast Palu, a poorly stitched failure with not many sales, merely leeching off the hype.

Therefore, after writing like this for a year, the pressure on me is quite significant.

I don't want to be just a plagiarizing author, and everyone should understand that money earned by sucking others' blood is filthy and ugly, only worthy of being trampled under everyone's feet.

I've been living off dirty money for a year and a half; continuing this way is incredibly unfair to Super Mechanical Engineer. Moreover, more and more Super Mechanical Engineer imitators are emerging, and compared to them, I am just not presentable.

So, I plan to finish this book as soon, steadily, and completely as possible.

As for whether readers think this book will end poorly, that's entirely a matter of personal subjective perception.

I can tell everyone: new subscriptions have dropped even lower than Burn Money 2, and this happened months ago; I'm basically doing it out of love now.

I've also realized that without Super Mechanical Engineer, the plots I write are nothing.

So I'm wondering if I should give up writing and try for a civil service exam; so many people my age have done so, and following them seems to be the right path.

Moreover, I have a job myself, and for a period due to daily busyness, everyone started questioning if I was about to give up on the book.

I am conflicted myself, and this conflict burst out last July when my family began frequently urging me into blind dates. A pile of events weighed heavier and heavier, often lying in bed unable to sleep until four in the morning, likely having a nervous breakdown.

But in the end, I decided to persevere.

In the end, I'm just a plagiarist.

If this book doesn't end, the inspiration and writing methods plagiarized from Super Mechanical Engineer will continue to erode me. I spent countless days and nights blaming myself for plagiarizing.

Some readers tried to comfort me, saying, look at how XX started with unlimited flow, plagiarizing the original work of Infinity Terror everywhere, yet later it had its own plot.

But others did well. To speak the truth, everyone knows Phantom Beast Palu was plagiarized, but it was done well.

I didn't do it well and plagiarized; being criticized, scorned, and attacked is what I deserve.

The more I blame myself, the more I try to rid myself of and wash away traces of Super Mechanical Engineer.

In the end, I almost discarded all the content related to the Player and also left behind the readers who initially started reading this book.

It turns out my own writing is indeed mediocre. Works like Eternal Speaker reflect my true level. Without an editor's appreciation, I wouldn't even be eligible for a contract.

But as Chen Danqing said.

I fucking love writing, period. Writing is thrilling; I would write without eating or drinking.

My works are trash, but my love for writing is not.

If I could, I hope Starry Abyss can be removed from the shelves soon after it ends, so I can permanently erase the shadow of plagiarism from my heart, even secretly rejoice in not having a black history of plagiarism.

But regardless of what is said.

Still, thank you for your support. Actually, everyone should subscribe to Super Mechanical Engineer, not to me.

This year is the Year of the Dragon and also my zodiac year. I hope to conclude this plagiarized work before April this year, giving it a perfect ending.

After that, I want to rid myself of all external influences, stop plagiarizing, and write works like Eternal Speaker again; only those works fit for a cesspool are where I should be.

But a rat should stay in the sewer. Even dressed in stolen luxurious garments, the cesspool odor of a rat cannot change. I am that rat, occupying a niche that doesn't belong to me, acting as a parasite, gnawing at the essence, flesh, and spirit of Super Mechanical Engineer.

Wishing everyone to shed the cold air, be positive and upward-facing, and wish everyone a Happy New Year.

To those who have not yet reached home, get home soon.

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