“It’s not that…” Brian Carter looked at his eyes speechlessly. “Your eyes are so red—did you not sleep all night, up until now?”

David Bolton waved his hand with swagger. “I’m cultivating immortality, what’s a few days without sleep?”

Brian Carter was about to persuade him to rest when David Bolton’s QQ chimed.

David Bolton glanced at the flashing avatar, his expression turning solemn. He quickly sat back down and clicked it open. “Editor, do you have any instructions?”

A message came from the other side: “Your book has been reported. They say it’s using the past to satirize the present and allude to evil politics.”

“???” David Bolton hurriedly replied, “I’m innocent, sir! I’m just writing a fantasy level-up and dungeon story—where’s the political allusion?”

“It’s probably an issue with the dungeon design, and people are making a fuss about it,” the editor said. “We’ll put a protective block on it for now. Take some time to revise it, and once it’s fixed, we’ll release it again.”

David Bolton got anxious. “It just went online and now it’s blocked. By the time it’s back, who’ll still be reading?”

“There’s nothing we can do.” The editor left those four words and said no more.

“I…” David Bolton’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, but he didn’t type anything for a long time.

Brian Carter watched as the red glow faded from his face, and the exhaustion of a sleepless day and night instantly crept over his features, making him look years older.

“Why is it like this…” David Bolton muttered to himself. “I know I didn’t…”

Brian Carter pressed his lips together, not daring to speak the truth.

The truth was, your results aren’t good enough to be strongly protected. It’s just a revision—no need to risk trouble for it.

But what was “just” a revision for others was the abrupt end of all hope for David Bolton.

Brian Carter suddenly thought of Qiu Wuji. For him, it was just weaving stories, but for her, it was life.

“What are those people who reported me after…” David Bolton muttered, “What did I ever do to them…”

“They see you’re doing well… There are plenty who can’t stand others’ success.” Brian Carter finally sighed. “Your readers are pretty loyal. Hurry up and revise it, there’s still hope. Don’t lose heart…”

David Bolton sat there blankly, staring at the screen, his eyes lifeless.

After a long time, he finally said in a low voice, “That’s just self-deception, Mr. Carter. This is just a new book. It doesn’t have the inertia of a story people have followed for a year or two and can’t forget. In just a few days, most of the readers will be gone… Besides, who knows how long it’ll take me to revise it… And… and I don’t even know how to revise it.”

Brian Carter was silent.

He himself was afraid to miss even a single day of updates, let alone a revision where you don’t even know what will be enough to pass. Who knows how long the break will be, and keeping your popularity is just wishful thinking. He couldn’t even convince himself.

“I really love writing books… I always thought showing the world in my heart to others was a wonderful thing. I even argued with my family for so long because of it…” David Bolton said softly. “Before, when my books flopped, I knew I wasn’t good enough, so I worked hard to learn. I read books and watched all kinds of tutorials every day. My notes could almost fill a book themselves…”

He paused, sniffed, and continued, “I’ve had two books flop, with only a few dozen subscriptions each, but I never missed a single update. I delivered food while writing them to completion. It was both practice and building up karma. After moving here, I wrote ten hours a day, staying up late every night. I’m still young, but my back and neck are already messed up. Have I worked hard enough, Mr. Carter?”

Brian Carter said softly, “Yeah, you’ve worked harder than me.”

“We’ve always been told since we were kids that hard work pays off, right, Mr. Carter…” David Bolton choked up. “And I didn’t even work hard in the wrong direction. This book is proof it’s not bad… But… why did it turn out like this?”

Brian Carter could only comfort him, “Since this book is good, it means you’ve found the key. Hang in there. Worst case, start another one. You’ll succeed eventually.”

David Bolton shook his head slightly. “I made a deal with my family. If this one doesn’t work, I’ll go back. I’ve been stubborn for so many years, it’s about time. They mean well, after all… Besides, even if this book’s results are okay, there’s a lot of luck involved. If I start another, there’s no guarantee it’ll work. One after another—when will it ever end?”

He let out a long sigh, then suddenly flashed a bright smile. “After dreaming for so many years, it’s time to wake up and live a normal life.”

Brian Carter knew his friend’s spirit had been completely crushed. This was what you called utter disheartenment.

He wanted to say something, but in the end, he didn’t. He just watched as David Bolton opened the backend and, before the book was blocked, posted a single chapter: “It’s Over, Sorry Everyone.”

“Dropping a book is being a eunuch, and a eunuch is castrated.” David Bolton suddenly burst out laughing to himself. “My pen name is ‘Bully the Weak,’ and now that I’ve been castrated, am I just David Bolton?”

Brian Carter couldn’t laugh at all.

That very afternoon, David Bolton moved out without even eating. Brian Carter didn’t revise a single word of his own outline as he’d planned for the day. He just spent the whole afternoon helping David Bolton pack and move, and by the time they were done, it was already dark.

As David Bolton was leaving, he sighed, “All these years of struggling weren’t for nothing. The best thing I gained was making a friend like you, Mr. Carter. You’re loyal. No need for words—if you ever need help, just ask.”