Steal Half a Day's Leisure

The hardest bone is finally fed!

"I hope that the people of the Qing Kingdom can all become unruly people. They will have a heart that will not yield when they are abused by others, a heart that will not be frustrated when attacked by disasters; a heart that is not afraid of correction when something is wrong; a heart that will not flatter the jackals and tigers..." I am Ye Qingmei, a lifelong young man. Some people like the story of celebrating more than one year, some like Fan Xian's [cross out] 900 poems [cross out] 100 poems and wine, and some people like the stone tablet in front of the Imperial Capital Procuratorate. Some people accidentally fell into the execution ground of Da Qin and drank at Hongmen based on their true intentions; some people were prepared to step into the wormhole again and use the power of mayflies to shake the pace of Jiashen's arrival; or they brought science to the ignorant frontier of the kingdom and removed the girl from the stake to make a furnace of pig iron; they woke up in a dilapidated wooden house and used the pain they had experienced over and over again to save their love that was about to collapse. Maybe dreaming of butterflies, maybe dreaming of a concubine dancing in front of a cave. However, no one had thought before that as an alien from outside the world, in a strange area without mobile phones or computers, even if he swept across the world, he would not be able to escape the sigh before the full moon. "I'm very lonely."

"Because I saw it, I was afraid." The northern rat who has been staying in Zhuque Room for more than a year and seduces literary young women with sour youth stories always talks a lot of truth inadvertently, which is mixed in the Master's "several floors", stirred and mixed in Ke Haoran's sky-wide sword aura, shining brightly, and in Ning Que's drunken chicken soup post. The story of Mao Niu starts out very big, with the wilderness of the north, the proud people walking around the world, the goshawks striking in the sky and the busy ants beside the dead trees; later it becomes subtle, circling and dissolving into a bowl of chicken soup. So it seems very real. There is no stereotype of leveling up after just 5 points of experience, no repetitive cliché of pretending to be a slap in the face, and no extravagant "just one knife, splitting a hundred and eight thousand small worlds". One hundred and eighty thousand small worlds merge into one, and one hundred and eighty thousand small worlds merge into one big world. The strong man stands in it, and all living beings are annihilated in the moment of breathing and movement. So what? All the troubles in this world are nothing compared to me going downstairs to buy you a bottle of drink. Yingxiu celebrates ten years, and the living celebrate more than ten years. "True" is what can be seen after experiencing life and death.

Amber. . . This is probably the novel I have been following for the longest time. . . Time has been so long that the green green of life has passed by in a "sudden" way; I have changed from a rookie who just left home to an old rookie who can't move. It's almost a home-grown novel, the first book I knew about Sister Pneumonia. At that time, I didn't know there was Canaan, eh. Like Xi Ling, he also grew up rapidly after a short period of immaturity at the beginning. When he was not lazy to set up the cycle of life on the high ground and fought against the Temple of Flame, you can't remember the dryness and confusion of Sophie at the beginning in the small shabby house. The story is very grand, and many, many people are flesh and blood, whether it is the Valkyrie who stayed behind even though she knew she would die, or the noble girl who you know you hate just by listening to her words. They are not characters in a novel marked by a short sentence with adjectives such as "arrogant" or "great", but girls who came out of the southern countryside of Eruin, little arrogant little ones who slipped out of the imperial capital, alive, with warm blood flowing in their bodies. Pinch little Roman's cheek, yes, it's fleshy.

I'll write after I'm done

"Twelve hundred drone turrets will shine with the glory of humanitarianism." Hope Ling's domineering spirit, this sentence is better than the old. Compared with the former's exaggeration and slightly blunt tone, Bomb Ren's plain tone should be the standard for Xiling people. Greatness, majesty, and dominance are not expressed by enumerating the number of battleships and the number of enemies; they should be deposited in the heart of each character and surfaced in the occasional chat. In those years when I was waiting for Amber, Xiling was the big-eyed debut work, the work of growth, and the production of the gods. To be honest, even though the first two hundred chapters of Qian Xiling were immature and even poisonous, the growth rate of the eyeballs was visible to the naked eye in ten chapters - and now that the apostles have finally become gods, their stories are myths. And I like that sentence very much. "Thank you for accompanying me through the past ten thousand years, and I hope you can accompany me through the next ten thousand years, and if possible, the next many ten thousand years..." It's very sweet, a slightly sugary afternoon tea that the old man who came back from Eruin and Pandora likes.

Can you believe that I feel the same as Bai Yaksha?

Hula hula and it was all over in one go. This is probably what he is talking about. [Reminder] The following content contains minor spoilers, please be careful when eating! Before I watched Kohaku I was reading Naruto fanfics, in my introductory calculus class which wasn't too difficult. At that time, many books were published on Tieba and Jinyijiang, such as the very tear-jerking Legend of Taotie and Matata Dressed as a Cat, which were 50-50 releases; "The Strongest Naruto" was several stories high at the time. Although the story may not be sunny, it was still a first-class star in the long night. Later Legend of the Seven Nights and Konoha Conspiracy were both above average, but the two authors wielded swords one after another and were 404ed in strong winds and waves. I still remember someone who used Obito as the protagonist in 2011 and said that he was the final big OSS - "Uchiha are all one-on-one, such as Uchi and Sa. Shunshen Shisui guided Itachi, water and soil, water and soil, and Obito should have more stories." He was shocked. It's a pity that he only wrote 300,000 words before joining Cai Hou's disciples. So much for the old man's memories. ===Cut=== However, what I see more is that the system is out of control, OOC or Mary Sue. Many people are obsessed with all kinds of novel techniques and tricks, and forget the story itself - we want to see the story, not a move described in 5,000 words. Therefore, Miss Momiji is particularly dazzling among all living beings, because of the cherry blossom forest in Konoha 48, because a certain white-headed young man is "actually a dangerous person in this sense", because "Lai Shouchimei" stands among ten thousand (oh, many may have died) Iwa nin; because Itov's refreshing cool breeze blows through the shining green grassland on the outskirts of Morio City, which is decorated with beautiful forests. Because this is a complete story. Even if it ends in a white light, a lolita and a sea of ​​stars. But it's also a sad story-because it ends, and it comes so quickly. It's so fast that it makes people feel that life is just a moment of youth. So I'm sad. There are hundreds of beauties in the world's stories, but in the next few months, my story will probably be as deep as the deep blue. Ps. I just watched the extra episode, which happened to answer some of my questions. But! But! This time I really finished reading it! Sad!