Sneaking into the Night with the Wind

"What's the use of pity? If it doesn't make money, even a god can't do anything about it!"

Zhang Daniu was even drunker. His eyes bulged as he tapped the clay pot with a bone. He spoke incoherently, "Speaking of which, being an online writer is really the most bitter profession in the world. It can't even be called a profession at all. It's just that… In the early years, it was said that those who sold their art under the overpass were of the lower class. It was lively. There were many who applauded and shouted. There were few who had the support of real money. When the Emperor passed away, he didn't even let you sell it. Who knows, he might have violated some taboo. This thing… how can it be justified?"