Hey! The River of the Dead Is Cold. Shall I Ferry You to Rebirth?

That day, beneath a post titled [What If You Viewed Rebirth Through the Lens of Chinese Horror], I left this comment:

I once wrote a similar quick transmigration novel centered on the protagonist's own subjectivity. The protagonist was a ghostly ferryman, rowing the dead across the River Styx and helping them fulfill their final wishes by creating one fantasy world after another.

As I kept writing, I broke down, and the novel flopped.

It wasn't the protagonist who broke down. It was me. I cried as I wrote. I couldn't take it. I felt hopeless...

I can only write quick transmigration stories about revenge. Those I can just about handle.

While writing, I have to comfort myself and convince myself that it's real, or I'll break down.

Actually, I didn't know before that I could break down like this. I only realized it while writing this book.

That's why, later on, I couldn't keep writing this book, and it fell apart. My own state of mind had collapsed...