The editor messaged me this morning, saying that it was released at dawn today.

It's time for release again.

So fast.

It feels like just yesterday that I uploaded my new book, no, it should be said, it feels like just yesterday that I finished my last book... That vibrant, burgeoning state of life still seems right before my eyes, how did it turn into the release site of my work in the blink of an eye?

Someone must have cranked up the speed of my timeline. I hope they come forward and confess soon. They better not let me catch them, or they'll have hell to pay.

Of course, it could also be because, well, happy times are always so fleeting... right?

But I don't seem to have been all that happy!

As it turns out, days just fly by that fast, whether you're happy or not. The only time they seem to drag on forever is when you're suffering. Take, for example—writer's block, writer's block, and more writer's block.

It's odd, before uploading, I could easily pen thousands to tens of thousands words every day, and my draft storage would grow rapidly. But once I start a new book, the good days are over.

Every three days, a minor block, every five days, a major block—the blocks keep coming, erasing the old times, wearing down Duoduo. Every day I tread carefully, as if on thin ice, only wanting to post on social media and ask if I'll make it to the other side.

Hell knows if I will. I don't even know myself!

That's why I'm always looking ahead and behind, why I hesitate, and why time crawls by when I'm struggling, only to feel like I'm wasting my years. But when I look back, I realize my days were packed—so full that sometimes I can't even believe it.

I often go back and read what I've written. Most of the time, I think that what I wrote offhandedly was damn good. How could I have written something so powerful? Then, more often than not, I'd roll around and cry, feeling like I could never write something that powerful again.

Sometimes, I'd focus on the scenes I liked, because I remember how happy I was when I was writing those parts. And then there are some plots I'd instinctively skip over, for those were times that didn't go so smoothly or were downright terrible.

I haven't kept a diary since I left primary school, but when I look back at those stories now, it feels like my unremarkable past is resurfacing before my eyes.

Updates are like pine resin, encapsulating a former self as they fall from the tree. After a while, those past moments appear in the update list, like neatly arranged pieces of amber.

When I was writing this chapter, Bai Ze celebrated my birthday with me; when I wrote that one, Duoduo was sick; I remember being very upset when this plot was updated; that plot was so tough to write, I stayed up late into the night, but looking at it now, it turned out great... All those trivial past events, tucked away behind the scenes, hidden in corners I never noticed, would suddenly jump out at me, unbidden, when I look back.

You guys still remember such distant events for me.

Impressive.

There are some perks to this job, aren't there?

Since I started writing full-time, my life has become monotonous and dull.

Most of the time after I open my eyes in the morning is spent in front of the computer, and after typing is done, I'd collapse in the chair, unable to move. I've given up on socializing and going out, no longer interacting with others, hardly even talking to people anymore. After a while, I stopped initiating messages, immersing myself in my own little world, and before I knew it, I felt invisible.

Looking back on it now, I feel a sense of loss, yet also think...

Damn, it's freaking awesome!

How can there be such a good deal in the world?!

What was I doing earlier? Oh right, I was already typing away then.

Thinking about it that way, it feels even more thrilling.

When I was younger, I often thought, this world is so dark, I'm gonna fight, fight, fight and flip everything upside down! When I'm no longer young, I feel that, although this world is not so great compared to the worst, at least, I've found that place where I can be most at peace.

As long as I could write something, I would feel happy.

If readers could like it, then I would think bearing the hardship was worth it.

Of course, if I didn't have to update every day, that would be even better; life would be like a country flowing with milk and honey, trees heavy with figs.

If I could write a book that readers would remember for a lifetime, then wouldn't my life seem not entirely wasted?

So, putting in more effort, hanging in there a bit longer, seemed not so bad after all.

When I was fourteen, I imagined that after leaving my hometown and traveling to places I had never been, it would be good to live a life of significance. At that time, I didn't know what a life of significance was, but if possible, at least try to achieve a bit more.

Looking back now, I find that in a life of fifty years, managing to do one thing well is already quite an achievement.

If you could do well in several things, that would be amazing.

Looking at it this way, I wasn't as unsuccessful as I thought. At the very least, I could provide for my family, take care of Bai Ze and Duoduo, and at least Duoduo enjoyed a life of free dog food. Okay, actually it was Bai Ze and Duoduo taking care of me… but I contributed too, right? At least as someone being cared for, I still offered a lot of emotional value!

If life is a battle, then we fight it together, laughing wildly, and I'll be responsible for the laughing, because I have a loud voice!

But besides endlessly chatting about life, there's only work left.

Typing, updating, writer's block—it all begins again.

I can foresee the future cycling on like this, year after year, month after month. I hope one day I'll live the wonderful life of writing smoothly without getting stuck, but that seems too far away.

If I get stuck, I still have to write.

If inspiration is lost, I'll go find it. Wherever it may be, up to the skies or down to the Netherworld, and if it's nowhere to be found, then I'll look elsewhere.

Big or small, I'll find something.

If it can't be found, I'll keep looking, pretend I've found it, and forcefully continue writing.

Now, "Heavenly Destiny" is about to go live, and even though there are hardly any chapters in reserve, and the future is uncertain and nerve-wracking, after so many days of anxiety, I surprisingly feel a sense of relief, like after procrastinating for too long, I'm finally facing the guillotine with a strange sense of release.

No more hesitation, the plan is set.

The endless journey with no end in sight begins once again, whether you're ready or not, you have to keep moving forward.

I hope that luck and creativity will continue to favor me.

I also hope you all will like my modest achievements.

After a long time, we meet once again at the beginning of the journey. Now, Sky Rail's Doomsday Train is about to depart, and train conductor Ji Jue has been waiting for a while; dear passengers, please board the train in an orderly manner with your tickets.

I sincerely hope everyone has a pleasant journey.

And I hope that in the future, we can meet again at the destination.

Thank you all!

Thank you!

Duoduo and I both love you, really!

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