He traveled through the crappy book he wrote in junior high school and became cannon fodder Su Ming who couldn't survive more than three chapters.
I wanted to lie down and die, but I found that the world was full of time-travelers, reborn people, and system holders, taking my script and innovating like crazy.
The beggar at the entrance of the village is a book-wearer who wants to hug my thigh; the wealthy businessman in the town is a reborn person and wants to be my father; the widow selling tofu is a saint from the devil's sect and climbs into my window in the middle of the night.
They thought they were the chosen ones.
Little did he know that the original author of this garbage world was squatting at the entrance of the village, eating melon seeds and watching a show.
It wasn't until I discovered that I was actually a "dead person" who had written it myself in my previous life that the world went completely crazy.
I give you the pen and you write. But the protagonist can only be me.
