[ Alas, it is too late for the sweater now, Xingqiu set his ass right down on top of it. In the end, it is his sweater, he'll wear that thing even if it becomes nothing but a bundle of wrinkles. At home only, of course.

Looking at Chongyun listening, he realizes quickly his friend is not picking up on a single hint but it's hardly shocking. He lowers his gaze then to the teacup which he picks up once again for another sip. It doesn't get any easier, the more he hesitates, the slower he is to make the revelation and it only adds to his own embarrassment. Few, or rather close to no one knows that he is the author of the work. Most know of Zhenyu, but only the traveler and Mr. Kreideprinz are aware that it is his penname. ]

No, that book, it left me deeply wounded by its reception in Liyue.

[ Failure was an experience, a painful and terrible one. Shaken by the lack of attention his novel received along with a few scathing reviews, of course, he hadn't imagined it would be successful someplace so far away. For that, he had to thank the artist, it must have been the style in which the illustrations were created that brought its initial popularity before anyone ever read the text contained. ]

Perhaps, I was a bit too prideful and confident that my own work would succeed. As I said, it was a failure in our homeland.