The girl with white hair and red eyes is serious about revenge

"Alter ins ka duta, Listar kas ka mizalar..." (see note ②)

His silver eyes were slightly closed, and the broken moon in the sky was about to rise. In the short time before darkness fell, the old man finally turned around and left with his back to the sea of ​​clouds.

If the world is a chessboard, then he is the only operator. The only one who is qualified to sit across from him is the irresistible force called "fate".

If he is the destiny, then who is left on the other side?

......

"And now, that empire has passed away in eternity, leaving only ruins."

"The desolate Gobi Desert stands all around, with sand and wind blowing everywhere."

"The lonely yellow sand stretches to the horizon, endless."

...END...

......

Note ①: Adapted from Shelley's Osmanthus (translated by Wang Zuoliang)

Note ②: Ancient divine language, "to rise from the dust like the bright moon/to rise like a god." Those interested can check out the word comparison table in the setting collection.

Volume 2 is finished.

Volume 2 Completed

Eh? Volume 2 is finished? So fast!! (It’s so real)

Well, as usual, I will write down some of my thoughts from this serial experience!

Please review! Please review! Please review! I need to say it three times! I need your feedback, both positive and negative! Working in isolation will make people stagnate, so... please!

The plot of Volume 2 is inspired by Jiang Wen's "Evil Does Not Suppress Justice", which, to some extent, depicts a bleak future: false idols, usurpers ascending to... Okay, I dare not say more.

I have incorporated a lot of my views on the future, and if you can resonate with them, I am happy to have inspired your thinking. But if you don’t, it doesn’t really matter, after all, what I want is to write a better story, and I also need more readers who care about the story.

After the second volume is finished, I will spend about a month preparing for the serialization of the third volume. During this period, I will update some extra chapters to supplement the plot. If you want to urge me to update, please come to the book friends group and ravage me severely. I need someone to urge me to work harder!

Then, share some of your thoughts.

In fact, all the readers I have talked to know that the purpose of opening this book is more to create dreams/train my ability to control words. Before writing Volume 2, I set several goals for myself, which are:

1. Use small-scale pov narrative to interweave multiple story lines at the same time.

2. Try to grasp the rhythm and development of the plot as much as possible without writing a detailed outline while [only determining the general direction of the plot].

3. Only send out the first draft, do not go back to revise the text, and try to maintain relatively good quality at a high speed.

These three points are actually a bit like debuffing myself, after all, there is no need to do so... But since I realized the huge difference between online serialization and traditional writing in Volume 1, I have been trying to train myself in this aspect. It's not that I must abandon tradition and devote myself to online writing, but... I think no matter what, I can't use any reason to refuse to improve my personal ability.

To put it bluntly, we are not doing this for the money (this is definitely not the case), and it would be irresponsible if we don’t train ourselves well.

The process of creating Volume 2 was more difficult than I thought. My enlightenment in narrative was George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire. Those who have read the original or Game of Thrones know how terrible his grasp of POV narrative is. As a little learner, I tried to use some similar techniques in Volume 2, and the result was... the effect was not bad! Although the rhythm was a little unstable in the later stage, I think there was no big problem with the overall multi-line interweaving.

(Of course, if you have any questions, you can talk to me about your opinions in the book review, and I will humbly accept them!)

As for the second point, I decided to try to write a more detailed outline in the future... At least 80% of the plot of Volume was improvised by me on the spot, and I occasionally got stuck when writing because there was no specific guidance. Although it was a close call, even if you are very talented, you will eventually fail, so you still have to be sure of it.

I don't want this book to collapse for no apparent reason. I love Perlis so much!

The third point is about the quality of the text. I probably kept the writing style down to around 6-7 points, and tried to write texts of stable quality in a short time. Except for some climax scenes, I would add a few more strokes, but in other cases, I just pushed forward cleanly and neatly. In this regard, I think it can only be said that there are some small achievements... Understand that literary youth disease can only be cured by age!

All in all, this is a learning process that I am quite satisfied with. I would give Volume 7 a score of . If it is refined and edited, it should be a finished product that I am quite satisfied with. The current state is actually not bad. I will spend more time to do more experiments in the future volumes to enhance my script control and text control ability.

Well, after saying so much, let’s talk about some emotional things.

I think writing is a really wonderful thing. Maybe I was born to like fantasy. Whenever I conceive a plot or a character, I can't help but embed all kinds of fragments of my experiences into it. When I read my own words, I seem to be looking in a mirror, and there is another world and me in another world.

Therefore, I am very loyal to words. Unlike many speculators around me, I gave up many of the benefits I had already obtained and turned to pursue the so-called "art". This puzzled many people, but I didn't want to leave any regrets no matter what.

When I first entered this market, I was angry. I couldn't accept the prevalence of shoddy things. I felt that what I liked was tainted. So, I worked hard to hone my words, even though I had no skills or experience, even though I had nothing but passion. Apart from the things I wrote in the past, Pure White Fireworks is my first book in the true sense. I have never felt that this book is worse than any other book. At least in my heart, it is really great.

But I am not a fool. I can’t sit in my attic and enjoy spiritual victory, nor can I be so stupid as to label myself as a “writer”. That would only make me look ridiculous.

I pride myself on my talent for writing, but I also know that there are objective differences between me and commercial writers in terms of skills. I know that if I want to make writing my lifelong career, I can’t just sit there and work like a spoiled child, treating my so-called wild ways as “uncontaminated art.” I need to learn and experience, all for better writing.

I have ideals, but I don’t want to be a cynical intellectual, as that would only seem like an escape from reality.

The core of art lies in self-expression, but this does not mean that self-expression and commerciality are in conflict. Too many incompetent people regard rejection of commerciality as a way to flaunt themselves, while ignoring the differences in their own objective techniques, which is very stupid. I hope I can write works of the level of "A Song of Ice and Fire", and I also hope to make money while maintaining my own identity. This road may be difficult, but is there anything that can be obtained without effort? Maybe there is, but I will not wait for that thing.

Whatever I want, I take with my own hands.

Thank you for reading my book. As long as you are still witnessing, what I do is meaningful. Although I am still very lonely now, I think that maybe one day we will become bigger and bigger!

My motivation has not diminished, but has become stronger. Let's just go for it and work hard!

Best regards, salute! Come on, Perlis, together! (press your head)

(I’m wrong, I’m wrong, I don’t dare to press my head anymore!! Don’t hit me!)

I wish you all a happy life, and we will see you in Volume 3 "Attending the Fake God's Banquet"!

Pencil Sharpener

"Ding-a-ling-ding-a-ling--"

The bell outside the toilet door rang, sounding muffled and distorted.

In front of the sink, the girl stared blankly at the bright red on her palm, with a whisper in her mind.

is blood.

"Ding-a-ling-ding-a-ling--"

Laughter accompanied by the sound of running passed through the corridor outside the toilet door, chasing the call of the bell. The bell rang tirelessly, cold and heavy, like some kind of law existing in this small piece of land.

The girl was not bothered by the noise, she was just in a daze. A slight haziness covered her eardrums, making everything seem so unclear.

"..."

Blood dripped from the side of her palm into the pool, leaving a streak of red in the ice water. Her forehead was slightly painful, and the girl wiped her nose with her hand, then turned on the faucet.

"Ding-a-ling-ding-a-ling--"

The intermittent water drops fell to the bottom of the pool, like the sound of a bell. The girl waited for a while, but the water drops were still weak, so she sighed in her heart, and then she put her hand into the weak water column to wash the blood off her hand.

"..."

"Ding-ling-ling--ding-ling--"

Suddenly, the girl raised her head and met the pair of bloodshot eyes in the mirror:

"..."

Her cheeks were fair and tender, but there was a vertical bloodstain on the philtrum under her nose, which ruined her youthfulness and made her look a little disheveled.

Her eyes were blood red, as if covered by a thin layer of mist. The corners of her eyes were slightly dark, which was even more obvious against her pure white hair. Her complexion did not look healthy, and with the vague headache, the girl was sure that she was probably sick.

What's the disease? At least, it's lighter than the ringing sound.

"Ding-a-ling-ding-a-ling--"

The girl cleaned the blood and then scooped up some ice water to clean the blood off her face. When she looked at the mirror again, her face had more or less returned to the look of a student.

The only flaw was probably that there was still a blood stain on the corner of the school uniform collar.

But it was the only way. She turned off the faucet, stood still for a while, and then walked towards the ringing sound.

"Ding-a-ling-ding-a-ling--"

......

Whispering, whispering everywhere.

The moment she pushed open the door, countless gazes pierced her body like needles, making her shudder instantly.

There were many pairs of eyes, and she wanted to avoid them, but someone seemed to say something, so she walked into the classroom mechanically.

In a trance, she saw a corner of the floating red flag:

"Unity, friendship and dedication to the collective."

Countless needles linked her, so she had to quickly cross the aisle between the tables and sit down in the last row in the corner.

"Ding-a-ling-ding-a-ling--"

The ringing continued, and she wanted to cover her ears, but she was bound by a concept similar to the ringing. Those eyes followed her to the last row, and there were still a few people who were looking at her with ill intentions, accompanied by whispers.

She had to lower her head, she hated the stares so she wanted to hide.

However, even this little bit of privacy was soon shattered——

"Perlis Havrgard, you are late."

Perlis raised her head, and the whispering sound instantly disappeared. She looked towards the podium and met the thin man.

"I'm sorry...Professor Spencer..." Pearlis whispered.

"Are you okay?" Professor Spencer adjusted his glasses and asked, "Are you in any trouble?"

"No, no..." Perlis' voice was still very low, "Thank you for your concern, teacher."

"..."

The man on the podium looked at Perlis with pity for a while. When he saw the bloodstain on the girl's collar, she nodded as if she knew what happened:

"Come to my office after class, and we'll talk about further studies."

"Um..."

After Perlis finished speaking, she lowered her head in silence, staring at the textbook on her desk that she had never opened. The whispering sound appeared again the moment she lowered her head, enveloping her.

"Quiet!" Professor Spencer knocked hard on the podium and shouted, "The class will start now."

The whisper faded away, Perlis closed her eyes slightly, and her consciousness faded away.

......

Pearlis hid a pencil sharpener in her desk drawer.

She had no deskmate, so no one noticed. Whenever she fell asleep in class, she would hold the handle of her pencil sharpener tightly.

Only in this way can she sleep peacefully.

The noise and bustle of the outside world would fade away the moment she entered the dream. Although she still hated it, she could always find a little peace.

"Ding-a-ling-ding-a-ling--"

The bell rang, and get out of class was over. The classroom became noisy again, filled with the sound of tables and chairs moving.

"..."

In her arms, Perlis slightly opened her eyes and looked at the darkness in front of her. She was still lying on the table. Although she was awake, she didn't want to move.

Finally, when she heard a "click", she confirmed that the last person to leave the classroom had turned off the light. She raised her head slightly and began to pack her schoolbag.

"..."

It was dusk, and the classroom was gradually getting dark. On the court outside the classroom window, many boys were playing football in the afterglow of the setting sun, laughing happily. Perlis quietly packed her schoolbag, and when she was done, she hid the pencil sharpener in her sleeve and walked out of the classroom.

As soon as she walked out of the classroom, she stopped and turned her head slightly——

"Is it bleeding again?"

Professor Spencer was leaning against the door, looking at Perlis with a complicated expression. Perhaps because he knew that Perlis would not go to his office, he had obviously been waiting here for a long time.

"Maybe I need to call Professor Laplace. If the side effects of the test are too great, you should go home and rest for a while."

"No, Professor, I'm fine."

After Perlis finished speaking silently, she walked to the end of the corridor without looking back. Professor Spencer quickly followed her, his voice somewhat anxious:

"Hey, classmate Perlis, are you sure you're okay?" Professor Spencer looked at Perlis's profile, a little worried, "You look very bad, can you roughly describe the symptoms? Dr. Carly is still on a field mission in E. Tran and should not be back so soon. If you have any physical discomfort, you must-"

"No, Professor."

Perlis said softly and closed her eyes.

She knew that her bad complexion had nothing to do with the physical pain.

"Thank you for your kindness, but it's not necessary."

"Why not? Look at you. You were fine when you first transferred here. You were hanging out with Miss Mitro and her group. Now you don't even talk to them. Is it because of your health—"