Pollution throughout the territory

The white cat makes people happy in this way, but without him, others would live like this.

One day, around seven or eight o'clock before the update, the reader was slowly checking the books on the shelf, and suddenly said, "White Cat has not been updated steadily for a long time. It still owes hundreds of thousands of words!" I didn't know that. I feel like he really hasn’t been updated stably for a long time. A person looking at the air conditioner said, "How can he update?... He broke his leg." The reader said, "Oh!" "He always breaks the update. This time, he fainted and was caught by the updater. Here we are. Can the book he was chasing be broken?" "What happened next?" "How was it? First, he was locked in a small dark room to remind him to watch, and then he was hung up with a chain and beaten for most of the night, and then his leg was broken. "What happened next?" "The leg was broken later." "How was the discount?" "How?... Who knows? Maybe he died." The reader stopped asking and continued to read today's update slowly.

After tonight, the updates are getting less and less day by day. It’s almost the New Year. I’ve been relying on the fire all day, so I have to put on a cotton-padded jacket. In the second half of the day, there was no chapter update, and I just sat there with my eyes closed. Suddenly I heard a voice, "Shui Zhangwen." Although this voice was very low, it was very familiar. When I looked, there was no one at all. He stood up and looked outside, and saw the white cat sitting under the counter facing the threshold. His face was dark and thin, and he had lost his appearance. He wore a torn jacket, crossed his legs, and put a cattail bag underneath, hanging on his shoulders with a straw rope. When he saw me, he said again, "Shui Zhangwen." The reader also stretched out his head and said, "Baimao? You still owe hundreds of thousands of words!" Baimao looked up dejectedly and replied, "This... I'll pay it off next time. This time it's ten thousand more words." , you must have recommended tickets and monthly subscriptions." "Next time for sure." The reader smiled and said to him as usual, "White Cat, you stopped updating again!" But this time he was not very discerning and just said "Don't make fun of me!" "Make fun of me? If I keep updating, how can I break my leg?" The white cat whispered, "Broken, broken, broken..." His eyes looked like he was begging the reader not to mention it again. At this time, several people had gathered, and they and the readers laughed. I warmed the wine, took it out, and placed it on the threshold. He took out the December 12th update from his ragged pocket and put it in my hand. I saw that his hands were full of mud. It turned out that he had walked here with these hands. After a while, he finished posting the update, and then slowly walked away while sitting and using his hand amidst the laughter of others.

Since then, I haven't seen a white cat for a long time. At the end of the year, readers looked through the bookshelves and said, "White Cat still owes hundreds of thousands of words!" On the Dragon Boat Festival of the next year, they said again, "White Cat still owes hundreds of thousands of words!" But they didn't say it until the Mid-Autumn Festival. I didn't see him until the end of the year.

I haven't seen it until now - probably the white cat is indeed starving to death.