Phoenix Reborn

I first came up with this story back in middle school. I still remember that the classmate sitting to my right was "her."

Whenever I saw her weeping over the person she loved, my heart would ache unbearably. I wished I could take her place, but I couldn't.

The central scene comes after the palace falls, when the master's order is for the heroine to kill the hero. The first draft was only four pages of handwritten notes. I felt as if I were living it myself.

The lackey sitting diagonally in front of me read it and stuck out his tongue. I asked if it was really that bad. He said no, it was good.

This story was also the one in the series that tormented me the most as its author.

Chapters one and two were written in 2009, after someone I liked very much, who was tired of me digging up old posts and reminiscing, edited all their original posts until they were blank.

In my grief and anger, the inspiration for this angsty story finally came. Filled with resentment and a desire to hurt myself, I poured it out with ease.

When I picked it up again three years later, I couldn't keep the style consistent.

Starting with chapter three, things were just as sad. I rarely found inspiration unless I was so sick I was nearly half-dead, yet still had to fight to survive.

I had the story planned out, but lacked that spark of impulse. Without it, the story also lost its soul.

So this story really can be called a book written in blood and tears. T T