Don't Rush Me, Pillar.

Introduction to "Don't Rush the Pillars" Zhang Yang, 33 years old, is from Northeast China. His name is Zhang Yang, but he is the opposite. If you can lie down, never sit; if you can move, never move. He occupied 120 acres of barren hills in the southern mountains and rented 2,000 square meters of abandoned factory buildings. He raised three dogs, more than 70 chickens, 22 ducks, 14 geese, and four pigs. Prune fruit trees during the day, make tea and watch the stars at night. The days are like the old well at the foot of the mountain, so smooth that there are no waves. Until a voice came into my head. "Zhuzi, don't rush me." He gave this iron system with a square head and a square head a local name. Zhuzhu has no emotions and won't get angry. He can only squat in the consciousness space and rub the floor with his crawlers. It doesn't understand humans, but it has a strong learning ability. Seeing that the host was lying too flat, it looked through records, searched for preferences, filled in tasks, and tried every means to drag him out of the mountain. So Zhang Yang was forced to hit the road. World after world, he could still wander around and hide whenever he could, just hoping to come back alive to feed the pigs. Zhuzi was so anxious that sparks appeared. He sat at the gate of the mountain, holding an enamel jar, and said slowly: "Don't rush me." There is only one principle in this book: the protagonist does not take the initiative. In a sentence: I originally just wanted to drink tea and feed the pigs in the mountains, but you insisted on urging me to go out. Tonality: Slow-burning, daily, salty, the system is stupid, and the protagonist never takes the initiative.