Wang Zixu's desk is facing the door. This position was specially chosen by him so that when someone visits, he can immediately hide the novel document he is writing and open a web page to pretend to read the news.

He doesn't have much work. He answers the phone when there is a phone and writes novels when there is no phone. Other than that, he has nothing else to do.

No one in the work unit knew that he was writing a novel. He had read a sentence somewhere early on: Don't tell others your ideals, and don't give people the chance to laugh at you.

For them, effort itself is a ridiculous thing, especially when there is no reward. If someone catches him writing a novel, then they will inevitably ask you where you published it. Wang Zixu has never published anywhere.

, so he is very embarrassed. So he pretends to be browsing the web every time. This is different from other colleagues, who always pretend to be at work. Therefore, in the annual assessment, his performance score will always be passed.

In addition, this reserve also has other hidden costs, such as that he has not eaten out for many years.

The middle-aged man's entertainment is eating and drinking. In the midst of the banquets and bickering, his colleagues always get a sense of accomplishment, which he doesn't quite understand. When people invite him to go, he always gives them various reasons.

If he refuses, no one will call him anymore.

Over the years, some people have miraculously solved staffing problems, and some have contracted fast-food chain restaurants. These are not unrelated to the words spoken at the wine table. He knows that many opportunities have passed by due to these rejections.

But he doesn't care, he has 50 chances to win the Nobel Prize for Literature.

He didn't like to talk at all. Sometimes, he felt like he was a knife. Asking him to participate in ordinary life conversations was like putting a knife on tofu. When the blade of the knife passed through the tofu, the tofu didn't even have time to moan.

While he was writing, colleagues often wandered over and walked around his office, holding up their belts, talking loudly about stocks, pork, paydays, and the woman who jumped from the top floor of the Food and Drug Administration the day before yesterday.

Things were too close to be poetic, and not far enough to make people feel personal, which made him uncomfortable.

Trying to think about the next step besides writing is like running to a store 1 kilometer away for an unimportant product. What is suspicious is that his colleagues always know such things, and he suspects that they are some kind of news

Media staff are responsible for spreading these anecdotes to the very end of society, frequently and efficiently.

He actually understands that he only needs to express his opinions in a timely manner, try to be as clear and superficial as possible, and can also add some modal particles to ask questions, ask questions, and follow their topics. Daily communication is not that difficult.

.

But he would always say some concluding words to bring the topic to an abrupt end. No one could continue to follow his words. If anyone did, it was probably because they didn't understand. But he just couldn't control it.

He kept saying these words because he had already thought about them. Thinking about them but deliberately not saying them would make him sick.

He felt that he was a knife that could cut tofu without any chef or butcher, relying only on his own weight, and his interpersonal relationships were cut in this way. In fact, he could be gentler and not show the sharpness.

Come, but it's not a knife.

He thought. The purpose of a knife's existence is to cut, no matter what it is cutting.

The wife's hand was cut with a kitchen knife.

After hanging up the phone, Wang Zixu threw away the cigarette butts and hurried home. When he got home, his wife had bandaged his hands and set out the dishes and chopsticks for him to eat. After taking a few bites, tears started to flow down his face.

"I'm not feeling well today. I didn't go to the store to help. I wanted to take a rest. I didn't go anywhere all day. I just did hygiene at home. The more I did, the more I did. I bought the grapefruit last month and asked you to put it away first.

On the table, you really just put it on the table, and it rotted, and you never collected it. If I didn’t do it, would that grapefruit have been there all my life?

"I'm so tired. I work two jobs every day and have to do housework. I cut my finger. I'm the only one at home. I can't count on anyone. You can't count on anything else. I really don't want to live anymore.

This kind of life...if I hadn't married you, wouldn't I be living this kind of life?"

He didn't know how to comfort his wife, she just kept crying. All the warm words had been said in the first three years of their marriage.

There is no need to say anything in defense. What the wife said is true, but it is only the emotional truth from her perspective. If it is from his perspective, things may not be like this. But whenever he thinks of a reason to refute, she always

He could think of three, but he could never talk about her.

He really wanted to get her to put herself in her shoes, but every time he tried, it always aroused more complaints from her. Finally, he understood a truth: if a woman knows how to put herself in her shoes, she would no longer be a woman.

When he was in college, he was the captain of the school debate team. He once thought that the root of persuasion was eloquence, but later he thought it was thought. Thought had helped him succeed in the debate, but later he found that it was wrong.

Now, he realizes that there are limits to thought and spirit, and this limit is much lower than the limit of matter. Wherever thoughts can touch, matter has already planted its flag there, just like the eternal motto -

Matter determines consciousness.

So, he transferred 500 yuan to his wife.

His wife was sitting on the sofa with her back to him. She took out her phone, looked at it, and wiped her tears. After a while, she turned around with tears in her eyes and asked, "Why are you transferring money to me?"

Wang Zixu said, this is my manuscript fee. I submitted the manuscript today and called me.

"What kind of royalties?"

"It's the manuscript fee for the novel I mentioned last time. The magazine called me today and happily sent me the money."

The wife sniffed loudly, and then asked: "Only 500 in total?"

"Just 500. After all, I'm not famous."

"500 is a lot, I mean a lot," the wife said, "It takes half a month just to eat. How come you have so much money to write an article? Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

He said, you lose your temper as soon as you come back, and I don’t have a chance to say anything.

His wife grabbed his hand: "I'm sorry, it's my fault. I won't talk about you anymore. It's a great thing to get the royalties. I should congratulate you for taking another step closer to your dream."

"Thanks."

He felt that these words were too polite to say as a couple.

My wife wiped away her tears and said, "The food is getting cold while we are busy talking. I'll heat it up for you. By the way, what magazine are you publishing in?"

"It's a small magazine, and you don't even know if it says it," he said.

"Even if I don't know, I'll know if you tell me."

My wife brought the food into the kitchen. Although she said this, she did not ask what magazine it was.

They had disagreements on everything, and every time they disagreed, they would compromise with each other until they reached a level that was acceptable to both parties, and then the matter would be over. This was the secret to the survival of their marriage to this day. She was also accustomed to compromising this time.

But he wanted to thank her for her compromise. If she continued to ask, he would be unable to resist, because this magazine did not exist. If he told her which magazine it was, and opened it, without his novel, the lie would not exist.

The attack breaks itself.

This royalty was born from fiction. Novel is the art of fiction. As a pursuer of the Nobel Prize for Literature, the best and only thing that Wang Zixu is good at is fiction.

If given the chance, Wang Zixu would tell her wife: Never believe a novelist's word.
Chapter completed!