A flat-chested, ordinary, ordinary woman has always done ordinary things for ordinary people. The only extraordinary thing in her life was probably being struck by a loud thunder while camping.
Can she live a good life in ancient times? Or is it back to modern times?
This is my first time writing a novel. I have no outline, no male protagonist, and I haven't thought of anything yet. The only thing I have in mind is the female protagonist. There are not so many perfect people in the world. In fact, I think perfect people do not exist. The ordinary ones are close to life. Friends who like gorgeous styles should not read this. My writing is not good and I will not dig my own grave and expose my shortcomings in front of everyone. Strive to be logical.