Those who face the wall, but are in the Nascent Soul stage.

Chapter 68 Author's Note (Available for purchase tomorrow at 10 AM)
These past two years have been tough due to the economic downturn. I thought these tough times wouldn't last long, since who would worry about things hundreds of years from now? But I didn't expect those idiots to not only worry, but to worry excessively. Now the whole society is in a state of anxiety, and everyone needs to vent.

Thinking about this, I forgave Shipship. Perhaps he had encountered some difficulties as well. It's understandable that he might have vented his frustrations by criticizing the author after reading a novel online. I decided to forgive him, to forgive this poor man.

I was looking at my phone when I unexpectedly received a text message.

【Go to hell, you idiot!!! 】——IP Shanxi
I knew it was that shipship again. I've blocked countless of his phone numbers, but this bastard always manages to find more fake numbers to send me this text. I even forgave him just now. I was furious. I put the gift I brought for him on the aisle and then plopped down on it.

The journey on the green train is always long, but there's no way around it, I'm poor. Actually, Shipship wasn't wrong about one thing: I'm a struggling author. I painstakingly wrote 148.8 million words for my last novel (which isn't even finished yet) and only earned 1087 yuan. 300 yuan of that was from the full attendance bonus, which averages out to a measly one yuan for every 20,000 words, or five cents per thousand words. Although a thousand yuan isn't a small amount, especially with deflation these days, I still can't afford the high-speed rail tickets that cost over a hundred yuan. I can only afford standing tickets for a dozen yuan or so.

There were many poor people like me in the aisle without seats, but I was the only one with a brick to sit on. I could tell they envied the brick under my butt. I had long admired Taiyuan. As the largest city in China in the 21st century, the Yangtze River Delta is just a rural area compared to it. Aunts from Luzhou can only be called Shanghai aunties in Taiyuan. Sure enough, a Shanghai auntie wearing a pencil skirt walked past me, swaying her waist. It seems that this auntie, like me, was going to Taiyuan.

Taiyuan, the most prosperous city in the world. Thinking of this, a sense of anticipation rose in my heart.

As for why Taiyuan suddenly became one of the world's largest cities, I don't need to repeatedly recount its legendary rise to power—after the arrival of the so-called crisis era, those troublemakers in the Middle East started hoarding oil, unwilling to sell. Originally, the US could have used its aircraft carriers to force a sale—but the nuclear fusion crisis ten years ago rendered all of the US's aircraft carriers toothless tigers, and the recent exercises just a few days ago fed more than ten aircraft carriers to fish. The US can no longer threaten them. With oil under control, coal has become the new black gold, and coupled with the perpetually fifty-year-long wait for controlled nuclear fusion, Taiyuan, this resource-based city, has become Asia's Arab world, the world's new Dubai.

This is a city overflowing with coal, and the aesthetics of the coal bosses have shaped Taiyuan's aesthetic standards—buildings must be tall, breasts must be large, trees must be green, flowers must be red, and even the butts of two dogs on the street must be perky. The old-fashioned, literary, and artistic style is no longer popular in Taiyuan! Looking at the hundred-meter-tall buildings constantly rushing past the window, I gradually opened my mouth wide: Damn it, Shipship was right, I really am a country bumpkin.

Thinking of this, I sadly lowered my head. But when I thought that this country bumpkin would soon be able to glimpse the true face of the metropolis, I proudly stuck out my butt.

—I was afraid my butt would break the brick I'd presented as a gift, so I had to bend over, distributing some of the weight to my ankles. It's a rather artistic sitting posture. If you strain enough when you poop, you might be able to replicate it. (Squat toilet only, not Western-style toilet.)
Finally, after I got off the train, I searched for a long time in this metropolis with a brick in my hand. Finally, I found an abandoned factory with a sign that read "Niangziguan Power Plant" between two 500-meter-tall buildings. There was also a middle-aged man with a cigarette in his mouth standing there looking around. I was certain that this was Shipship. As for why I was so sure, it was because I saw that he was also holding a brick in his hand - bigger and harder than mine.

Deeply moved, I dropped the brick and ran over, taking two steps at a time. Finally, I grasped his hand, my eyes filled with tears, and said, "You must be Shipship, right?"

He sized me up, looking at this disheveled young man who had spent twenty hours on a standing-room-only green train and who exuded an air of poverty, and said uncertainly, "You're the author of that piece of crap novel?"

"It's me, it's me. I came all this way to apologize to you." I said sincerely, "You are my provider, I shouldn't have silenced you."

Seeing that my attitude was relatively good, Shipship was obviously a little embarrassed. He threw away the larger, harder bluestone brick, "Since you've sincerely admitted your mistake..."

Before he could finish speaking, I grabbed the big brick and smashed it down on his head. But I didn't expect that this shipship had already anticipated my move. He was shorter than me, balder, and older. But perhaps because he didn't use glue, he was much stronger than me and easily snatched the brick away, kicking me into the trash can.

My head was shoved into the trash can at Niangzi Power Station. In the pitch black, I could smell the aroma of fruit. It was a piece of watermelon that hadn't been eaten clean yet. I didn't care about anything else and wolfed it down. Shipship saw that my head had been stuck in the trash can for a long time without moving. He thought he had kicked me to death and ran over nervously. While he was checking my situation, I took advantage of his inattention and shoved his head into the trash can as well.

In the darkness, I could clearly hear Shipship taking a couple of bites in the chaos.

When the two of them pulled their heads out of the trash can, I saw watermelon seeds on the corner of Shipship's mouth and laughed out loud: "So you're just a scavenger in Taiyuan, you stinky out-of-towner. You can't even afford a watermelon, what are you pretending to be, this 'master of Jin' online?"

Shipship's face flushed red: "What do you know, you worthless writer? I write science fiction. I wrote 'Three Thousand Bodies,' and my good brother wrote 'Nine Thousand Provinces.' We wrote an epic of three million words of science fiction and ten volumes of fantasy. If it weren't for this bullshit cultivation culture, I would have been financially independent long ago! As for you, you stinky writer, stinky fanfiction writer, stinky Frankenstein's monster, what are you barking at me for?"

"Oh, really? Three Thousand Styles? How come I've never seen your book in bookstores?" I sneered.

"You bastard, what are you laughing at? Do you think your book can be found on Biquge?" Shipship sneered as well.

"You don't know anything! That's because of anti-piracy measures, and I'm going to release it soon. I'm sure I'll have a thousand subscribers then!" I roared, and started fighting with Shipship. After more than ten minutes of fighting, I, dressed in rags, was defeated. But Shipship didn't look so good either; his faded plaid shirt and tattered trousers were torn into fringed pieces by me.

"A thousand subscribers? With the crap you wrote?" Shipship covered her face and snorted coldly. Perhaps because her face was a little swollen from my beating, her speech was a bit slurred: "My 'Three Thousand Styles' only sold 15 copies. If you can get a thousand subscribers, I'll print out all the dog shit you wrote and eat it page by page."

Before I could finish speaking, the transparent editor sent me a message: "Your first-day subscription results are out, 42. Forget it, you only got this many first-day subscriptions after making it to the top three, you're really embarrassing me!"

It's 42 again. Science fiction fans know this is a lucky number, but when it's the first order, it's not lucky anymore; it's a disaster. I stared at the number in disbelief and quickly typed a reply to the editor:
"Mingda, let me explain! My readers just haven't seen the latest chapter yet. I'm someone who can get published on the Sanjiang website, how could I only have 42 subscribers? There must be some mistake! Mingda, give me a chance! Mingda, Mingda!!!"

The message was sent, but I received a red exclamation mark in response.

"I'm dying of laughter. I knew what you wrote was a pile of dog shit." Shipship pointed at my nose and laughed loudly. I felt extremely uncomfortable, as if there was a bright red ping-pong ball hanging on my nose. Looking at Shipship, who was still laughing so hard that she couldn't straighten her back, I felt that my fate had suddenly become gloomy.

I can't go back home. I've already boasted about getting a thousand subscriptions there. The big shots in the author group laugh at me, and Puji Junzi, the author of Mushroom Dungeon, points at me and laughs. Now even the editor doesn't want me anymore. I'm so flustered and helpless that I kneel on the brick that's used for fighting, and tears are streaming down my face.

"Clink..." The sound of coins falling suddenly interrupted my thoughts. I looked closely and saw that there were several hundred-yuan bills and more than a dozen coins on the ground.

"This, this is..." I stared in disbelief at the hundred-yuan bill in front of me.

“Another lousy novel, here’s your money!” said the man with an ETO badge on his chest.

Then, the man in the suit noticed the equally pitiful Shipship next to him, took out a few bills from his pocket, and threw them to Shipship.

"Thank you, boss! Thank you, boss! May you live a long and peaceful life, and may the Three-Body Problem triumph!" Shipship hurriedly bowed to the man in gratitude.

The man's brow visibly relaxed upon hearing this. Then he looked at me, and I, quick-witted as ever, immediately realized what he meant. I shouted a slogan at him: "Thank you, boss! Humanity must perish! The world belongs to the Trisolarans!!!" The man left satisfied. I counted all the money; it totaled 374.8, exactly the royalties I received last month. I could live for another month! Thinking of this, I looked at Shipship in disbelief.

"You usually live such a comfortable life here?"

Shipship rolled her eyes at me: "What do you think? Let me tell you, Taiyuan is a goldmine, like that idiot who just started cosplaying the Three-Body Problem organization—just wait, Taiyuan is paradise on earth, you won't starve!"

And so, looking at the impressive 42 first-day orders and the heavy 300-plus yuan in my hand, after a series of internal struggles, I decided to wander around Taiyuan with shipship.

During my time as a wanderer, I will persevere in finishing this novel. If I am fortunate enough to be able to eat a hot meal or two as a result, then the book will have been worthwhile.

The sacrifice of four books:

"I Became a God Through Hand-Crafted DNA in the Wizarding World"

He was a wizard apprentice on the verge of despair.
It is an experimental product of bloodline witchcraft modification.

It is a nightmare that enslaves countless species throughout the world.

The soul of a stowaway, plus a little modification to the gene panel... Mendel of the wizarding world has emerged.

Transforming living beings, understanding elements, and studying the body's potential—from this moment on, the wizarding civilization began its bloodiest evolution.

With these war behemoths engraved with modified genes, let's give the extraordinary races of this world a shocking experience of genetic modification.

——

"The War of Resistance: From Southeast Shanxi to Malacca"

Later generations praised them, saying that without Sichuan, there would be no army; and that the people of Sichuan would never fail their country.

Song Guanghua, a person from later generations, traveled to 1937 in a parallel universe.

He became a member of the Sichuan Army that fought in Shanxi.

Awaken the system, restore our homeland, and rebuild the glory of soldiers!

―――――

The Ming Dynasty

Synopsis: Emperor Taichang, Zhu Changluo, died mysteriously just over a month after ascending the throne.

The repercussions of the Red Pill Case had not yet subsided when the Palace Transfer Case arose!

As the eldest son of the emperor, Zhu Youxiao could only sigh as he looked at the mess his father had left behind—a state of turmoil and disintegration.
How can the Ming Dynasty be governed well while surrounded by these insects?

At this time, only 24 years had passed since the fall of the Ming Dynasty and the loss of its territory.

Faced with such a hellish start, the water-soluble Apocalypse cried out:

Now that I have succeeded to the throne, I am determined to be a wise and powerful ruler!

Externally, it swept away the barbarians; internally, it quelled factional strife. Reforms and reforms eradicated deep-seated problems.

The emperor guards the nation's gates; the monarch dies for the state. The Han and the traitors cannot coexist; the Ming dynasty will not seek only partial peace!

——

My Brother Zhao Zilong

When those cold, hard numbers from history transform into living, breathing people before our eyes...

Zhang Xiancai then realized the significance of his visit.

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(End of this chapter)