Snail is done for. I couldn't write this chapter tonight. Halfway through, I just couldn't go on. I can't even lift my arms.

Up until yesterday, I've had ten bursts this month, three of which were 11,000 words, so I was too embarrassed to ask for monthly tickets. From the 19th to the 31st, there are still 13 days. If I fill all 13 of those days with writing, I should be able to fulfill my promise.

If Snail suddenly disappears, it's possible that Snail has simply vanished from the face of the earth.

It's been almost three months, with so many bursts, and I even got sick in the middle. During the writing period, because I was worried about delaying the bursts, Snail basically took Banlangen and other cold medicines as soon as there was the slightest abnormality in my body, to avoid catching another cold.

If I could have rested for a few days in between, Snail definitely wouldn't have been so tragically exhausted.

Between life and death...