Chapter 99: Afterword
Starting to write The Ascent was actually an accident. It wasn't in any of my previous plans. Then one day, as I was about to get off work, I suddenly thought, why hasn't anyone written an ancient-setting yuri story about a "golden canary"? It's such a delicious setup. I'd love to read one. I was even on the verge of posting a request on a story recommendation bot. That's right, at first, I just wanted to read it, not write it.
But on my way home that day, riding my electric scooter, the character archetypes suddenly popped into my head. The beginning of the story popped into my head. The title, The Ascent, popped into my head. By the time I got home and sat down at my computer, the names Fang Jian and Gao Yunqu had appeared as well. The story of their meeting took shape in my mind, and a powerful impulse made me write something. So I wrote.
In the very beginning, I only had the scene of their meeting in my head. I hadn't thought about how it would develop later. I hadn't even planned on writing a long story; I just thought that creative impulses are rare, so I'd write as far as it took me. And then... well... I got carried away with the steamy scenes. I floored the gas pedal, hit the highway, and couldn't stop, churning out over ten thousand words in two days. Only after finishing the first three chapters did I calm down a bit. I felt like I could keep writing, so it was only then that I added the world-building and background on top of the character concepts.
The world-building for The Ascent was actually taken directly from the setting of another idea I had, a story about Emperor Yongchu conquering the land. I wanted the era of The Ascent to be a time of fusion between the old and the new. The new has been born, everything is thriving and full of life, but at the same time, the old has not yet faded. The conflict between new and old still exists, but the overall trajectory is definitely positive. Because that's the kind of story I like to read. So I set it in the era of Emperor Yongchu's grandchildren. With the foundation laid by Emperor Yongchu, it's possible for Gao Yunqu to hold a high position at a young age, and for a woman from a humble background like Fang Jian to have a path for advancement. This setting also conveniently sidesteps the more difficult-to-write themes of struggle, awakening, and destruction (which is also why the story of Emperor Yongchu hasn't been written first—it's too hard, and I haven't figured out how to write it yet). It was a clever shortcut, playing to my strengths and avoiding my weaknesses. But as I wrote, I discovered that stories of continuation, like the Qinzhou and Chuzhou side stories, are just as interesting as stories of creation.
The complexity of the backdrop creates new conflicts. As I've said before, the conflict between men and women is just one part of many social conflicts. Attributing all problems to gender is a simplification. Beyond gender, there are conflicts of birth, of political factions, of superiors and subordinates. On a macro level, there are conflicts between the central government and local regions, between the monarch and the chancellor, between aristocratic families and commoners, between the people and the powerful, and so on. These are all entangled with gender and cannot be separated. Ultimately, it's a matter of interests. People choose self-identities based on what benefits them, and they tend to form groups based on these interests and identities. Countless stories, tragic or comedic, can be derived from this.
I posed a hypothesis here: if men and women had the same opportunities for advancement, would the world change? Yes, and no. It is precisely because men and women have the same path for advancement that we have Lord Gao and Young Lord Fang, Wei Qi and Wei Zhi, Cui Miao and Xie Min, and the many named and unnamed female officials, female generals, female scholars, and female family heads in the story. Their stories are incredibly exciting, full of life, and new things will be born in the future.
But what doesn't change is exploitation and being exploited, is imperial feudalism, is patriarchal oppression. When female officials reach high positions, they too have male concubines, they too seek out male prostitutes in brothels, they too suppress the common people, and they too play with power, form factions, and manipulate people's hearts. The essence of this is not gender oppression, but a derivative of power. Like their male counterparts in high positions, they enjoy the thrill of using power to crush others. By the same token, although patriarchy bears the name of the "father," it doesn't mean it resides only in fathers or only in men. If you replace the dominant "father" in patriarchy with a "mother," would there be a fundamental change? No, it would still be patriarchy. The only difference is that the gender of the superior who controls everything has changed, but the power structure remains unchanged. The narrative of clan law and ritual deletes all notions of male superiority, but it will not delete the hierarchy of ruler and minister, father and son. Here, "ruler," "minister," "father," and "son" can all be women; these four words are stand-ins for class order, the cornerstone of a feudal dynasty's rule. In the end, this is still a story about a feudal dynasty, so it will inevitably have its historical limitations.
So, is there no meaning to women holding power? Of course there is! A world controlled by men is always a complete mess. A world of women, no matter how limited, is still more peaceful and more hopeful. Why did I write about five generations of female monarchs? Because I believe that a female monarch's court might have gender equality, but a male monarch's court will inevitably, little by little, push women out. It's not a conscious choice, but an instinct.
I've included a light critique of feudalism as a background, blending it into the story's underlying tone, but it's ultimately not the main color of the narrative.
Returning to the characters and the story.
I actually think the "ancient-setting yuri golden canary" is a particularly brilliant setup. In the same ancient setting, if it were a man keeping a woman or a woman keeping a man, you wouldn't have such a clever balance. There's a natural disparity and conflict of interest between men and women in the world, and it just doesn't feel right. Such a relationship isn't clean enough, not pure enough. As for how a yuri "golden canary" story can be balanced and pure, I think I've given my interpretation. The story begins with one high and one low, using each other, but they are never arrogant or insecure because of it. The one in the high position will slowly bring herself down, and the one in the low position will strive forward so they can stand shoulder to shoulder. Lord Gao wants Young Lord Fang to submit, but she never once thought of breaking her bones. Young Lord Fang, despite her great misfortune, never wallowed in despair or gave up on herself. Their relationship is a slow burn. For Young Lord Fang's feelings toward Lord Gao, it goes without saying—how could she not be moved by such a powerful person caring for and protecting her? As for Lord Gao's feelings for Young Lord Fang, it's probably because Young Lord Fang grew into exactly the person she wanted her to be that she couldn't let go, and her feelings changed. Their relationship is love, but also a kind of legacy. They will slowly move from imbalance to balance.
Lord Gao and Young Lord Fang are the freest couple in this story. Although Lord Gao is a noble and Young Lord Fang is from a humble background, they are the same in some ways. They have no constraints from their families of origin, they have their own abilities and talents, and everything around them since birth has encouraged them to ascend higher, with no suppression or limitations. So their lives are mainly about two things: political ideals and emotional entanglements. Neither of these is for anyone else, only for themselves. Therefore, their story is more internalized, focusing more on personal feelings. It's beautifully idealistic. In fact, they are representatives of the ideal. Song Wan has envied Fang Jian, and Zhong Yao has envied Gao Yunqu. Song Qiong, Chen Qingshang, Luo Suwei, Zhuo Guanyi... who wouldn't want to be Fang Jian and Gao Yunqu? If there were no oppression, no limitations, no constraints, every character in the story should live like them.
They are already very lucky and their lives are beautiful, so they don't go around conquering everything and showing off their might. They became the thread that ties all the stories together. Of course, the most crucial reason is that I didn't know how to write them being incredibly awesome and powerful, and how to complete their transformation from their perspectives. So, once again, I played to my strengths and avoided my weaknesses by introducing supporting characters, turning the story from one couple's romance into the romance of two or three couples, and then into an ensemble piece.
An ensemble piece means that no one changes everything through their own efforts alone. Rather, it is the convergence of countless specks of light, like fireflies, that can eventually set a prairie ablaze. When Zhuo Guanyi stepped forward, she had the support of Fang Jian, Song Wan, and Chen Qingshang behind her. And behind Song Wan and Chen Qingshang were Song Qiong, Yu Xiazhi, and even Luo Suwei, as well as the years of courage and wisdom from the young women of the Feipeng Poetry Society, and the earnest hopes of the countless restricted and constrained daughters of Qinzhou. Everyone pushed together to open this door and let the light in. I didn't write the story of Song Qiong and Chen Qingshang after they founded Feipeng; there must have been more blood and tears, betrayals, precautions, breakdowns, and despair, and in one struggle after another, they would have learned lessons and strengthened their convictions. But I wanted to write about that final ray of light and that dawn. They deserve it.
Although Song Qiong and Chen Qingshang's story is a BE, I really love Song Qiong. She's the only "white moonlight" in the entire story. I wrote Song Wan first; she needed a motivation, so I gave her an older sister who died young. As I wrote, I wanted to give this sister a story. It was also while slacking off at work that the idea for the sister-in-law storyline suddenly came to me. I was swamped with work that day, but while dealing with my job, I was desperate to get home and write about them. Ah, the charm of sister-in-law literature, haha. So, the setup of Song Qiong's early death came first, and then the love story between the sisters-in-law. There was no way to take back that bento box.
The sister CP of Qi Daoning and Qi Daolin is somewhat similar. Both are constrained by their families of origin, both are tools of their clan. The core conflict of the Chuzhou storyline is not a gender issue, but the conflict between family interests and personal freedom. Qi Daolin's tragedy lies in the constant collision between her goodness and her family's evil. The family not only does evil but also demands that she turn from good to evil. She is undoubtedly weak, in pain yet powerless to change or escape, constantly compromising, able only to torture herself. Her suffering does not stem from her gender, but from patriarchy. If the Qinzhou problem can be attributed to the preference for sons over daughters, then the Qi family's problem is naked patriarchal exploitation. Regardless of gender, no matter how outstanding or intelligent you are, you are still exploited under patriarchy.
If the Qi family is black and Qi Daolin is white, then Qi Daoning is gray. She's an unhinged maniac with no concept of right and wrong. And precisely because her beliefs stem from her own likes and dislikes, she is, in her own way, logically self-consistent and at ease. Qi Daoning forcibly propped Qi Daolin up. When Qi Daolin wavered, she stood guard. But when Qi Daolin made a decision, she too erupted with strength. Initially, I wanted them to be villains and have a huge battle with the protagonists, ending with their capture (the BE if-line). But when I got to that point, I found I didn't know how to write their political struggles, so I just changed it to the current outcome. Although the choices in the two timelines are different, the common point is that Qi Daolin, after years of hesitation, finally made a choice. Whether it was to break away or to perish together in flames, it was her rebellion against patriarchy. Qi Daoning did not interfere with her; she was always waiting for Qi Daolin to make a decision, and she was prepared no matter which path Qi Daolin chose. What she wanted was for Qi Daolin to truly come alive, to live for herself, even if it was as brief as a shooting star.
Then there are Wei Zhi and Cui Miao. Their relationship is the most conventional—an extremely simple love at first sight followed by a passionate romance. Theirs is the most ardent beginning, the reckless fervor of youth, and I really love them. But they have families and responsibilities, their relationship is not accepted by others, they cannot step into the light with their heads held high. They suffer and struggle because of this. Their difficulties are external, stemming from their families of origin. This is the most common predicament for lesbians. Compared to them, Lord Gao and Young Lord Fang's relationship has almost no obstacles. After the initial passionate phase passes, the belated pressure constantly tortures them. You ask if it's worth it? There's no such thing as worth it or not. There will always be someone who makes you feel an unparalleled connection, for no reason at all. Your soul will know that she is the love of your life, someone you'll never find again if you miss her. Loving her is a part of your soul; to separate from this person is to have the very foundation of your existence crumble.
At first, they chose to run away, but with no room left to retreat, they could only face it head-on. If they couldn't even face themselves, then their relationship would be nothing but a joke. In comparison, Cui Miao is a bit more mature than Wei Zhi. Both are fighting against their families, but Wei Zhi is mostly relying on Wei Qi's love, feeling secure in it, though of course, Wei Zhi has her own firmness and strength. Cui Miao, on the other hand, faces three great mountains: her family, her clan, and imperial power. Jiang Shu represents the first two, and Wei Qi represents the last. Under this triple pressure, she still insists on trying to preserve her beliefs and integrity, which is very brave. But she couldn't find a better solution either. When she knelt before Wei Qi to make her case, she was truly prepared to die. She was pushed to a dead end, with no other path. It was either total annihilation of body and spirit, or becoming a walking corpse. There was no third way. It actually came very close to being a BE.
I thought for a long time about how to handle their relationship. I myself didn't really know how to break free from such a predicament. In the end, I naively and idealistically placed my hope in the mercy of their elders. Wei Qi chose both her interests and her sister, rather than choosing royal dignity. Jiang Shu chose Cui Miao, not her lineage and face. Jiang Shu didn't accept Cui Miao's choice; it was just that under the pressure of imperial power, Cui Miao was very likely to lose her life, and Jiang Shu, as a mother, simply wanted to save her daughter's life. So she gave up everything to bow to imperial power, not to ask Wei Qi to bless the young couple, but to humbly beg Wei Qi to spare Cui Miao's life, no matter what. For this, she was willing to become the emperor's pawn, to trade the foundation of her life's work. Of course she was angry, of course she was disappointed, she even wanted to beat Cui Miao senseless, but in the end, she still had to plead for her and plan for her. She loves Cui Miao very much.
I wrote several types of mothers: Gao Yunqu's mother, Gao Chen; Jiang Shu; Chen Qingshang's mother; Qi Daolin's mother; Zhong Yao; Wei Qi; and A'zheng.
Gao Chen is more like a parent in the traditional sense. She has high expectations for Gao Yunqu, hoping she will carry on her career. Of course, there is love, the kind of love that plans far ahead for one's child. This traditional love is distant and silent, which is why Gao Yunqu initially had major disagreements and conflicts with her. She also wished Gao Yunqu would be more obedient, feeling that sense of powerlessness: "I've arranged everything for you, why won't you listen?" If Gao Chen had lived longer, her conflict with Gao Yunqu would have been even greater (a common predicament in traditional East Asian families), but she died early, so Gao Yunqu mostly remembered the good things about her.
Similarly, Jiang Shu also raised Cui Miao alone, but she actually had no requirements for Cui Miao. It didn't matter if she was successful or not; they had money anyway. As long as she was a good person. So she let Cui Miao grow up freely. Before being a mother, she is first an independent person. She herself is outstanding and resilient enough to be a role model. She has her selfish moments, she has a temper, and she gets into arguments. She didn't make demands of Cui Miao; she only made demands of herself. But as long as she kept moving forward, Cui Miao, watching her from behind, would become a person like her. This kind of inheritance of character is more romantic than inheriting a career. Jiang Shu is a truly amazing person, capable of anything, yet her heart is soft. That's why she ultimately chose Cui Miao. She wanted Cui Miao to be more than just a daughter and an heir. She didn't guide Cui Miao in a direction that would benefit herself. She openly taught Cui Miao how to be an upstanding person, how to find her own direction, how to become better, and she was genuinely happy for Cui Miao's growth.
In contrast, Chen Qingshang's mother and Qi Daolin's mother are the other extreme. They are mothers who share patriarchal power with their husbands. They are one with their husbands, sharing the power of the clan. Chen's mother is attached to Chen's father. She is confined to the home, but she dominates within its scope. Her husband manages external affairs, she manages internal affairs, and her children naturally fall under her control. As a wife, she is exploited by her husband, her parents, and her in-laws, so she turns around and exploits her children. She dotes on Chen Shouyi and is reasonably fond of Chen Qingshang, but this isn't true love. It's hard to say if it's not a manifestation of her desire for power. The bond of mother and child is probably less important than her status as the family matriarch. That's why her reaction was so extreme when she later discovered that Chen Qingshang had usurped her power.
Qi's mother is both similar and different. Chuzhou doesn't have such a strong preference for sons, so she held a high status in her own family of origin. Her marriage to Qi's father was a political alliance, a union of two powerful individuals. She felt they were like-minded. So she not only had power within the household but also political power. Qi's father shared the supreme ruling power of Chuzhou with her and trusted her, consulting her on everything. Thus, she and Qi's father were a single entity. She was fully aware that Qi's father was playing his three successful children against each other with checks and balances, raising them like venomous insects in a jar, and tacitly approving of the sisters' incestuous relationship. She even fanned the flames. They defined themselves as heads of the family, as rulers and superiors, and these identities surpassed their roles as parents and relatives. They were incredibly selfish. It's not that they were unkind to their children, but their so-called love for their children was a sugar-coated chain—if you don't obey, you'll be tormented until you do. Only obedient children are good children, and only they deserve their parents' love.
Zhong Yao is special. She never accepted the identity of a mother. She gave birth to two children to better survive in the stronghold, to make Jiao Youchang lower his guard. Nothing could surpass her desire for revenge, not even her children. But this doesn't mean she had no feelings for her children; it's just that those feelings didn't outweigh her own self. When A'yi's existence made her feel a spiritual crisis, she decisively gave up A'yi. A'chu is still young, but if A'chu had turned out to be an ungrateful wretch and questioned her, she would have chosen to abandon A'chu as well. Her children are not chains that bind her. Raising A'chu is her responsibility as a mother, but it is not the entirety of who Zhong Yao is. She is also selfish, but no one can blame her for her selfishness, and no one is qualified to.
Zhong Yao is different from the other characters. Everyone else has a CP to accompany them through hard times, but she bravely faced everything alone. She assessed situations, knew when to yield and when to stand firm, essentially going undercover for thirteen years to overthrow her enemy in one fell swoop. But she didn't know that in the thirteenth year, a Gao Yunqu would appear before her. From her perspective, she didn't know how long she would have to walk this lonely road; it could have been for a lifetime. But she still chose to keep walking. No one can criticize any of the choices she made, but she chose the most difficult path.
And Xie Min appeared before her after the dust had settled. Her life was a mess, but Xie Min was as she had always been. Xie Min was her coordinate, her anchor, and she soothed her weary heart. This was something only Xie Min could do. Not Zhong Yao's family, not A'chu. Without Xie Min, Zhong Yao could have gone on, but it would have been very tiring. Only Xie Min would say to her, "You did nothing wrong. You are good. As long as you are alive, that's all that matters. Morality, responsibility—none of it is important."
Xie Min grew into this kind of person because before their reunion, there was nothing in her heart. Before they met again, it wasn't love between them, just friendship, regret, and obsession, but Xie Min couldn't move on. When she fought desperately on the battlefield, she was truly fighting for her life. She didn't know the meaning of her existence; she was just being pushed along. The general who appreciated her made her a marquis's clerk, so she went. He told her to take the official examinations, so she went. She was walking aimlessly. When she saw Zhong Yao again, she came alive. Both of them were still living in the moment they separated. When they reunited, the thirteen years in between vanished in an instant. They were still the same people they were back then. Their stalled time began to flow again.
Let's talk about Wei Qi. As a mother, she's a bit like Zhong Yao. She wanted this child for an extremely utilitarian reason: she needed an heir, and that was it. It was during the pain of pregnancy that she gradually realized she was becoming a mother. She didn't really know how to be a mother, because her own mother had been largely absent during her childhood. It wasn't that her mother didn't love her, but imperial power made it difficult for them to be an ordinary mother and daughter. Wei Qi was attached to her mother, but she was also somewhat afraid of becoming one. Fortunately, she had A'zheng. A'zheng's daughter didn't live to grow up. Her feelings for her daughter were not mixed with any additional content; she simply loved the life that had been conceived from her body. It was very pure. She taught this love to Wei Qi, and it was because of this that Wei Qi began to face the discomforts of pregnancy with composure and started to have expectations for this child. But the more she looked forward to it, the more pain she felt. Her anxiety wasn't about gambling on the child's gender, but that if she gave birth to a boy, she would have to do something to him. She had been prepared for this from the beginning, but the further along she got, the softer she became. She had developed feelings for this child, and that was the source of her pain.
Writing Wei Qi was actually very contradictory. On one hand, I wanted to write her as a charming person; on the other, I wanted to write her ruthlessness as an emperor. The conflict between Wei Qi's humanity and her imperial desire for power was very strong. When writing Wei Qi the person, she has anger, fear, joy, and indecision. She has many little mannerisms and tempers. She has people she cares about, and she has her likes and dislikes. But when writing the emperor, she must be decisive in killing, she must put imperial power and interests above all else. She schemes against everyone around her, treating them all as pawns. She trusts Gao Yunqu, but she is also suspicious, because she feels she cannot control Gao Yunqu. So when she discovers that Fang Jian and Gao Yunqu are in love, her first reaction is that she can bring both of them into her fold. In that moment, she is the emperor, not the loyal friend to Gao Yunqu. Similarly, in the matter of Wei Zhi and Cui Miao, she weighs royal dignity against the potential benefits. Killing Cui Miao would preserve her dignity, but she would lose the allegiance of Wei Zhi and Jiang Shu. Sparing them, she gains three loyal subjects. From then on, Wei Zhi, Cui Miao, and Jiang Shu can only bow before her; she has grasped their weakness. It's the same with A'zheng. Her repressed emotions need an outlet, and she chose the solitary A'zheng because she could be controlled. She likes A'zheng, but it is only "like." I didn't write much about the development of this couple's relationship because there isn't any. It's another case of a superior and a subordinate, but Wei Qi and A'zheng will never achieve the balance that Lord Gao and Young Lord Fang do. Theirs will always be a one-sided tilt. It's not that Wei Qi doesn't want it, but she can't. The stability of imperial power is more important than her own person. A'zheng understands her, so she never asks for more. A'zheng is a very tragic person; she has never lived a single day for herself. But she doesn't really care how things develop with Wei Qi. In her view, so-called husbands and wives are all like that anyway. Compared to her past marriage of mutual respect, at least Wei Qi will remember her name. I also thought about writing a falling out between Wei Qi and Gao Yunqu, making her a truly solitary ruler, but then I thought better of it and decided to be a little kinder to Wei Qi.
I swear, I never intended to write all this angst, this sorrow, this pain in the beginning. When I was writing the characters and the story, I never thought about the depths I've discussed above. I just wanted to happily write some smut at the start, but somehow it turned into this. It was only when I looked back at the story I had written that I came up with all these analyses and discussions. It's very interesting, and very strange.
The Ascent is truly strange; it has given me many new experiences. When I wrote the first three chapters, I felt that 50,000 or 60,000 words should be enough to finish it. When I reached 50,000 or 60,000, I thought 100,000. Then 150,000, 200,000, and finally stopped at over 300,000. I thought I could finish it in a month, but it ended up taking from May to October. Before this, I only had one completed story, a mere 40,000 words. I used to see people write 100,000 or 300,000 words and think it was so impressive, never imagining I could write that much myself. But everyone seems to think my stories are short, haha.
I was actually trying to control the word count, reducing filler and meaningless plot points, but the word count for The Ascent really grew fast. In the past, I'd write a thousand words a day. With The Ascent, I could casually write for a bit and it would be a thousand. The early part of this story was mostly written in the gaps while slacking off at work (later, it went from gaps of slacking to slacking off for the whole afternoon). I didn't have an outline either. The initial outline was just the blurb and some scenes I had recorded. Most of the plot progression was thought up while riding my scooter to and from work and while showering. I wrote as I went, and if I got stuck, I'd pause. Maybe two days later, the solution would come to me during my commute. In the beginning, I wrote in the summary that updates would be irregular and readers should take it as it comes, really because I used to be a master of going on hiatus. But after I started updating, I realized I was updating daily for a while. I was shocked by myself. Hahaha.
Actually, my literary skills and my ability to write political intrigue are quite limited. Sometimes everyone's praise makes me feel quite embarrassed. My literary level is basically coasting on what I learned in high school, and most of the classical allusions in the text are from middle school textbooks. I was quite the literary youth when I was a student, but after stopping for so many years and picking it up again, I really found my use of language to be a bit stiff. There are many scenes I can't describe, many words I use repetitively. I was constantly checking search engines while writing, with queries like "how to describe X scene." I also didn't write many details, like what they eat, drink, use, play with, how much money they spend, or what clothes they wear. I covered it all up by playing to my strengths and avoiding my weaknesses. It's also hard for me to say whether I've fully presented the character images and story plots described above to everyone, because what's in my head are images, but what I can express in words is merely a fraction of that. So I'm putting my interpretation here at the end. If it resonates with you, that's wonderful. If not, feel free to choose the interpretation you like. As long as everyone enjoys reading it, that's what matters. Or if you have more thoughts, please share them with me.
The same goes for the political intrigue. My way of thinking is actually quite straightforward and direct. I can't come up with too many twists and turns. It's not that I don't want to write about those treacherous schemes and plots; it's that I can't. So I covered them all up. Some were mentioned in passing, some became part of the backdrop. For the ones I couldn't avoid, like the process of the Zhuo Guanyi case and the Chuzhou case, I found them very strenuous to think through. I can't say I wrote them well, but I tried my best to make the logic clear. It's hard to write, really hard, so I daren't say I'm good at it.
I am extremely grateful to the readers on po18, who have given me immense encouragement and support. The feeling of having people read my work is truly joyful. Receiving feedback is double the joy, especially when someone notices something I've subtly buried, or even discovers a point I hadn't realized myself. It makes me so happy; you are all so brilliant. Sometimes, reading everyone's comments gives me new ideas and helps push my creative progress forward. This kind of experience is really wonderful. After the main story was finished and I was writing the extras, I received a piece of fan art of Lord Gao and Young Lord Fang from a lovely reader. The moment I saw it, I was truly stunned. My heart skipped a beat, and then I was happy all night. It was so wonderful. Writing is inherently a very personal thing. My creation was originally to satisfy my own preferences, but to be able to attract some like-minded people through the medium of a story and to have some exchange, that is a truly happy thing. If I had been doing this all by myself, The Ascent probably wouldn't have been written so smoothly. So thank you all so much for being willing to encourage me, for giving me positive feedback, and thank you for accompanying me in completing The Ascent. I hope this story has brought you happiness.
The story of The Ascent ends here. Thank you, everyone.
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