I haven't been feeling well lately. Perhaps those legendary days have finally arrived – the ebb, the so-called ebb, has finally come to report. I don't know if it's a psychological issue or what, but I feel a lot of pressure, unable to break free on my own. I've been sitting here blankly for four hours, my mind empty.

I'm not drunk, I'm not sick, nothing's wrong, but I just can't write. The moment I put my hands on the keyboard, I feel disgust.

This state is very strange. It happened twice when I was writing *Zhu Que Ji*, but after writing *Qing Yu Nian*, this is basically the first time.

I've tried to analyze my recent mental state myself. While the busyness and exhaustion of life are certainly part of the reason, I think the real reason I'm finding it increasingly difficult to write is *Qing Yu Nian* itself.

The story is slowly entering its conclusion, and perhaps it's because, subconsciously, I'm reluctant to write the ending that I've started to resist every word I type. Because there's a predetermined amount of content, every word you write makes the remaining content in the story one word less, and then less and less, until there's nothing left.

I really hate this feeling. It's probably the same feeling I had twenty years ago when I was reading Jin Yong novels and got to the second half of the last episode, watching the number of pages between my right thumb and forefinger get smaller and smaller.

I'm taking a day off. I need to adjust my state of mind properly, then force myself to perk up and fall into a frenzy. Without a bit of madness, it seems impossible to overcome this. I don't know if other writers feel this way when they write, but I do.

This chapter won't be made up. On the 15th, I'll only make up the chapter I missed when I took a sick day.

There are a million reasons to ask for leave, but perhaps only this reason is truly honest: I just can't write.