Survival for all, my island is the last pure land on earth.

I have always believed that all readers who have the patience to wait and read the words written by an author are angels.

In early April 2026, on a rainy day, I ordered my favorite takeout and milk tea, turned on my ambient lighting, and opened the novel I had been hoarding for a week, only to find that it had stopped updating. Undeterred, I opened the second book, only to be devastated by the plot. I angrily removed it from my bookshelf, vowing never to read it again. I opened the third book, but perhaps because of the long interval, it felt utterly uninteresting.

Then a thought struck me: I don't like reading what others write, so why don't I write something myself? So I turned on my computer.

For five whole days, I didn't write a single word. I didn't know the protagonist's name, I didn't know the book's title, I didn't know what I wanted to write, my mind was blank, and I could hear the sound of water inside when I moved my head a couple of times.

The turning point came one afternoon when I was staring blankly at the computer as usual. Ms. Wang said next to me, "Young people these days have such wild imaginations. They can create all sorts of things like the apocalypse and zombies."

My attitude towards Ms. Wang always depends on her attitude towards me that day. We had just had a small argument this morning because so-and-so's brother graduated with a doctorate, while I am stuck in a rut, and my life is likely to just pass by like plain water.

So I said, that's because you haven't read enough. Doomsday and zombies have been around for a long time.

She glanced at me sideways and said, "I heard you're planning to write a novel. You can't possibly not be able to write something that's been written to death, can you?"

Therefore, the theme was decided to be a post-apocalyptic story.

Things went much more smoothly after that. Within ten days, I wrote the main character's background, the relationships between the characters, the story outline, and 150,000 words of the main text. I downloaded a writer's assistant app, found an editor I liked, and submitted the manuscript.

Those few days were undoubtedly agonizing. On one hand, I comforted myself, saying that it was normal to be rejected when I first started writing, and on the other hand, I was secretly pleased, thinking that what if I succeeded!

I'm actually a very sensitive person. Even the smallest thing can keep me tossing and turning all night, unable to sleep. I keep refreshing all kinds of posts, trying to figure out what kind of posts will get approved and what types are easy to get approved.

Seeing myself go against the correct answer, I secretly wiped away tears several times at night, regretting my recklessness.

Fortunately, the result was good. I passed the initial review and the final review smoothly, signed the contract, and got the product launched.

Trouble followed one after another: data, retention, updates—every problem drove me crazy. These were troubles I had never anticipated before I started writing. I was stunned to realize that I had cried too early for the signing ceremony.

Later, I suffered from insomnia and dreamed of being scolded for writing garbage. When I woke up from the nightmare, I opened the backend and found it empty. My book had failed so badly that no one was even criticizing it.

It's hard to describe this feeling. It's like I suddenly understand why some celebrities would rather be infamous than not famous, just so that someone can criticize them and let them know what they're lacking.

At this time, I met Ah Si Bao Bao. She gave me a reward to urge me to update, and she left me a lot of comments. Out of a hundred comments, ninety-nine were from her, and one was cursing me, saying she would give me two cents to go see a doctor.

I stared at that message for a long time, looking at the fragments and chapters of the comment over and over again. I shamelessly asked if there was something wrong with it, but the other party didn't reply to me again, nor did they give me two cents.

I cried as I deleted his comment and blocked him, because I was afraid he would come back and scold me.

I peeked at His homepage, and after seeing Him equally scrutinize every author, I suddenly felt much better.

I counted, and I am the twenty-eighth patient with a mental illness.

As the days went by, I maintained a daily income of one cent and received generous tips from Ah Si Baby. Then, I welcomed my second baby, Seven Cats Book Friend_092257555657. Like Ah Si Baby, she was cheerful, enthusiastic, and lively, adding a lot of life to my book and preventing it from looking like an old object in a warehouse, covered in dust.

My baby came almost every day, leaving messages and interacting with me. The happiest thing for me during that time was finishing a chapter, waiting in the background, refreshing the data again and again, like a fanatic, waiting for comments.

Seeing the red dots appear, I could be so happy that I couldn't calm down for half an hour, laughing over and over again. Of course, the price was that I had to go to work with dark circles under my eyes the next day.

My colleagues asked me if I was taking on "takeout" work, meaning I was secretly taking on other jobs behind the company's back. I shook my head and remained silent, looking mysterious. Little did they know, a young writer was sitting next to them, writing a novel.

In May, I was criticized again, this time for a reason. He said I plagiarized. What did I plagiarize? I plagiarized the setting. Why does my protagonist have a safe house? The book he was reading also has a safe house setting. I was shocked. He then popped up a second message, questioning why my setting also has a dungeon.

I hurriedly explained that this was a magical artifact left behind by the sect's patriarch, and all disciples could learn from it.

He cursed at me and left in a huff.

I felt innocent and wronged. I remembered someone saying not to argue with readers, so I deleted his comment and pretended nothing had happened.

Just then, Baby Period descended from the sky. She was so warm, like a little sun, making my days sunny and bright. For the first time, I felt that someone's affection could be so sincere. I saw her tweets, her comments, and her serious research on how to raise my book's rating, even just a little bit.

I hadn't even thought about or researched this issue myself.

During that time, I gained many more readers, all of whom came through her recommendations.

I happily greeted everyone and thanked them for reading.

Then, I met "I really like Tan Fu" baby. She is simply an angel. She would leave me comments, encourage me, praise me, tell me about her happiness and unhappiness, and share her joy and troubles. Of course, she is also my biggest benefactor baby.

My daughter is an outstanding student. She was once my idol. She was ranked in the top 100 in the whole school, and in the top 10 in a single subject. After seeing this, Ms. Wang exclaimed that this was the perfect daughter in her mind.

With Tan Fu Bao Bao's participation, my book has become incredibly lively. I'm full of motivation to write every day and look forward to the interaction every day.

In July, Juhao told me that she felt my book was about to get some data. Actually, I was already numb by then. I felt that as long as I had the support of my readers, I could keep going even if it was just a penny a day, so I didn't take it seriously.

As it turned out, the platform really did generate a lot of traffic for me, more than a thousand people a day. My God, I've never seen so many people before. My readership once increased to eight thousand.

Unfortunately, the rating came out as three stars, neither good nor bad, but there won't be any more traffic.

Traffic dropped, all the way down to two thousand people.

But I was incredibly happy because I received more criticism during those days than I have ever experienced in my entire life. It was during this time that I began to fear any activity in the backend. Every time a red dot appeared, I had to mentally prepare myself for a long time before I dared to click on it.

In August, the traffic stabilized, and the criticism stopped. Maybe they were driven away by my poor writing, or maybe they were poisoned by my writing. I became smug again and started replying to messages in the backend every day until September when work suddenly became busy, and I was able to relax a little.

Along the way, I also met many angel babies, including '糜花Bojui.H', 'Threshold Effect', 'Forgive.', 'This nickname is already taken', '梦知瑶~', '菠萝馅儿好帅', '真的好饿', '朱格夫人~', '请叫我小时', '玖·г尔', '璃音_Rion', '忏悔录', '勿喜', '佐鸣请一直幸福', '踏卜', '宵夜', '知某意', 'LYR', '菲', '雪祁阮', '雪融', '乌拉拉拉', and many other babies who silently supported me.

I know this book has many flaws. There is a lot of room for improvement in character development, writing pacing, foreshadowing, and writing style. So I am really grateful for your companionship along the way. Thank you for your encouragement and support, which gave me the courage to keep writing and allowed me to give this book an ending.

I will always love you all.

(*^▽^*)！