Sword and Plow

I wrote a less "friendly" story. The protagonist Fido is a very tired mercenary, and the world is an even more tired ice field. There is no power from heaven here, only frozen potatoes, the empty words of nobles, the fear brought by monsters, and the deeper fear between people. If you are expecting ups and downs of adventure, the thrill of leveling up, or a clear battle between good and evil, you may be disappointed. The book moves like a long snowstorm, and at its core are a few old-fashioned and weighty questions: How do we speak when violence becomes the only language? How can we promise tomorrow when the land cannot be cultivated? It pays tribute to ordinary people who still try to "do something" in the face of absolute adversity. Its writing style pursues Hemingway-style coldness and Yu Hua-style patience. So, it's an invitation to adventure. If you also believe that literature should sometimes be like a silent plow, trying to cut through the frozen hard soil - then please come in. The fire was dim but the tea was still warm.