Reflections on April Fool’s Day

Well, in truth, this has nothing to do with April Fool’s Day.

As you can all see, after nearly two hundred thousand words, this book’s performance has been abysmal—so much so that it’s sunk all the way to the Arctic Ocean. And for someone like me, who’s continued writing past one hundred fifty thousand words without signing a contract, well… I suppose there aren’t many as stubborn as I am.

The number of bookmarks is barely over two hundred—a bleak figure, to say the least. Should I keep going? It’s tough to write three thousand words every day. Maybe I should start a new book and just coast a bit?

I’ve entertained such thoughts, but only for a fleeting moment. I know my style isn’t suited for padding out word counts; it’s hard for me to write thousands of chapters, five or six million words like those web novels or fantasy sagas, where a single quest or relic can be drawn out endlessly.

Let’s not even talk about how arduous the creative path really is—it’s clear that I’ve chosen a particularly challenging route for myself. Though my weekend hiatuses might displease some of you, prompting remarks like, “Oh, so you’re a rookie author and you dare to stop updating—who do you think you are?”—I must reiterate what I said yesterday: my weekends are indeed occupied. Not enough to fill the entire day, but enough to leave me unmotivated for writing. I refuse to churn out chapters purely for the sake of consecutive updates if they don’t meet my own standards.

Once again, for an author who takes responsibility for their work, forcing oneself to create is an excruciating experience.

To be honest, I’m somewhat perplexed about why the book isn’t doing well. Though this is my debut (not exactly, but my earlier works were never published), I’m aware of various shortcomings: inconsistent prose, unstable plot control, and so on. But when I look at it myself… even when my prose falters, it’s not unsightly, and the overarching plot doesn’t suffer from any glaring logical issues. I’ve made efforts in other areas, too.

Before writing the first part, “Pulse of Hope,” I consulted numerous historical records and military treatises. If I was to write about cold-weapon warfare, I wanted it to be as authentic as possible; simply borrowing from film and television wouldn’t suffice. The Records of the Grand Historian, while documenting many chaotic eras, offers scant descriptions of warfare. For example, Han Xin’s remarkable feat of “feigning an advance at Ziwu, secretly crossing at Chencang”—a unique event in the annals of Chinese military history. Yet, the entire campaign to pacify Guanzhong is covered in just sixty-eight characters. How the Han army crossed the Qin Mountains into Guanzhong is summarized in merely four: “departed by the old route.” We know the fate of Han Xin—when the prey is gone, the hound is boiled; when the birds are shot, the bow is stored away. His end was tragic, so there’s no record of his lineage, and the splendor of reclaiming Hanzhong and Guanzhong is either omitted out of fear or reluctance by the historians.

As for military treatises, I have mixed feelings. Take the Six Secret Teachings, for instance. Skipping the political sections (“Civil” and “Martial”), let’s focus on the last four: “Dragon,” “Tiger,” “Dog,” and “Leopard.” To be honest, I didn’t find much to borrow from these. Perhaps my understanding is lacking, and I can’t grasp whether King Wu’s repeated assertion—“Our army is greatly afraid”—is genuine or merely modesty.

Whenever the enemy encircles us: “Our army is greatly afraid.” When the enemy is about to break our encirclement: “Our army is greatly afraid.” When we meet the enemy on a mountain path: “Our army is greatly afraid.” When the enemy sends a small force to raid us: “Our army is greatly afraid.” I truly don’t know what the purpose of such troops is.

I’ve digressed, but my point is that even if the battles I write cannot truly recreate the smoke and flames of war, the clang of swords and the thunder of horses, there is always at least a fraction of that spirit.

Looking at the work as a whole, it isn’t so unbearable—so why are there no readers?

Of course, I’ve felt discouraged and disappointed. Even though my experiences are rich for someone my age and my mindset is quite resilient, it’s impossible to remain unmoved when one’s painstaking efforts come to nothing.

Yet I will persist.

Some friends have told me, after all this time, that the story is veering more toward fantasy than martial arts. When I look back at the hundreds of thousands of words, it’s true there’s a hint of the fantastical. But let me say this: in my understanding, martial arts is more about a spirit and sentiment—a tragic, passionate willingness to stake one’s life for justice.

So, don’t worry whether there are supernatural beings or the Three Realms in my book. As long as that spirit remains, it is still martial arts. Fantasy struggles to convey the unique atmosphere of the martial world.

That’s all for now. If among my current readers there are any who truly cherish this book, I give you my word: I won’t leave it unfinished. Even if it never receives recognition, never gets a contract, I will see it through to the end.

After all… there is only one kind of failure: giving up before reaching success.