Subscriptions have fallen so hard recently that I can't help but say something about it, and some readers ask me.
Since the money from writing books full-time is not enough to live on, why not go back to work and write part-time?
I reflected on it myself, maybe it was because I already hated my original job.
My profession is a hotel chef, a stable and humble job.
Nowadays, the operations of high-end hotels have matured. Except for a few chefs, most people are just screws.
Some people are poor, but they don’t know they are poor. But the ordinary chef in the hotel is poor, but he really knows that he is poor.
In Shanghai, a place where land is at a premium, I earn a salary of three to five thousand yuan and serve a wedding banquet worth 18,888 yuan.
It’s easy to make a set meal with a per capita price of less than 1,000 yuan. Only people with a per capita price of 2,000 to 3,000 yuan will pay attention to it.
Serving the richest group of people in China, I always think in my mind, why is the gap between people so big?
Wandering on the edge of wealth, I not only know that I am poor, but I also know it very concretely, in detail, and as a reference.
Maybe it’s because I’m a more pretentious and sensitive person. The contrast between rich and poor brought me a steady stream of inspiration, and that’s why I wrote this novel.
After I was fired from my job, I started writing books full-time. Although my income was getting less and less, my mood was unprecedentedly relaxed and calm.
Ten years of youth were exchanged for two years of social security unemployment benefits. During this period, I was unwilling to go to work.
Maybe one day I will return to that most familiar place, but not now. Because I am not at the end of my rope yet and I still have a little money in my pocket.
A reader once asked me, how much is enough?
I answered, five million.
As long as five million falls from the sky and hits me on the head, I will happily write books at home and never have to go to work again.
I dreamed about four billion at night, and it turned out to be a bad dream. I dared to think about anything.
The above is the innocent moaning of a mediocre middle-aged man.
Thank you readers for giving me the money to live a quiet life. I bow to express my gratitude, and long live my parents.