In the 90s, you could acquire max-level skills every 14 days.

Zhang Yong stared at the beginning of that line, his hand holding the pen hesitant to put it down.

What should be written in the second sentence?

Ah Yong's college entrance exam results were not ideal, so what happened next?

Although Zhang Yong had read hundreds of novels and gone through all the free online writing tutorials, his daily routine consisted of commenting on works in Tomato's comment section.

"That's such a cliché idea!"

"The first three lines didn't mention any cheat codes!"

"The female lead surrendered so quickly? What happened to the pacing?!"

"It's copied, isn't it? It's exactly the same as what the top-ranked author wrote!"

But now, holding the pen, he can't even write a second sentence.

"Depend on!"

Zhang Yong cursed under his breath, realizing that reading what others wrote was completely different from writing it himself.

He took a deep breath and wrote down the words after A Yong's less-than-ideal college entrance examination results.

He sat at home, feeling very down.

It's as unappealing as saying, "The weather is nice today, the protagonist goes out, and he sees a tree."

He felt inexplicably angry, grabbed the page, tore it into pieces, and threw it into the trash can.

"Again!"

Zhang Yong unfolded another sheet of paper and earnestly recalled the wildly popular novels of 2026.

Urban martial arts, sci-fi post-apocalyptic, and the war god's son-in-law.

Readers in the 1990s hadn't read these novels; if someone could write them, it would be an absolute crushing victory!

Yes, I'll write science fiction!

Zhang Yong got excited and quickly started writing on the paper.

In the year 2089, the streetlights in the Seventh District of the Federation flickered in the acid rain, the air was hot, and the sewers smelled terrible.

A cyborg, codenamed HI-9520, is crouching under an overpass rummaging through discarded parts...

I stopped after writing a few sentences.

How do you explain cyborgs?

Readers in 1990 had never even seen the Internet. How could you talk to them about mechanical modification, neural network access, or data networks?

Zhang Yong scratched his head and tried to replace the technical terms with common language.

He was a modified person; most of his body parts had been replaced with machines...

No, it sounds too rigid.

His left hand is made of steel, and his right eye can see things that ordinary people cannot...

Sigh, this is at a first-grade elementary school level.

"Damn! Why am I sweating...?"

Zhang Yong cursed under his breath.

He discovered a serious problem: no matter how clear the images in his mind were, if he couldn't form sentences, what he wrote would be a complete mess.

The television in the living room suddenly stopped.

Zhang Defa outside yawned and clicked off the living room light.

Li Guilan's voice came through the wall.

"Son...go to sleep early. There's hot water in the thermos outside. If you're thirsty, just pour some yourself."

"Okay... I got it, Mom!"

Zhang Yong responded.

Only a small patch of light remained from the table lamp in the bedroom.

Zhang Yong sighed, tore up the manuscript paper with three lines of text written on it, and replaced it with a new one.

I'm not writing science fiction anymore; I can't handle it.

I'll just write urban fiction honestly.

Zhang Yong picked up his pen again and wrote that A Yong's college entrance examination results were not ideal.

This time, he closed his eyes and immersed himself in the character named A Yong.

Zhang Yong has experienced what it feels like to fail the college entrance exam.

It happened just a few months ago.

I was sitting in the exam room, looking at the questions on the paper that I didn't know how to answer, and watching the other candidates around me burying their heads in their writing.

He was the only one who stood there blankly, clutching his pen. When he handed in his paper, the proctor could see the blank space on it.

The road leading out of the examination hall was exceptionally long; it took him twenty minutes to walk a few hundred meters.

At that time, I felt like my life was over.

Zhang Yong opened his eyes, and the pen tip fell again.

This time the writing went a little smoother.

He first wrote about A Yong walking out of the examination room, then about the young man's eyes that dared not look at his parents, and finally about the other person squatting in the corridor smoking a stolen cigarette.

However, I got stuck while writing.

He crossed out the sentence "Ah Yong bowed his head and wept," rewrote it next to it, crossed it out again, and rewrote it again.

The manuscript paper was covered with dense horizontal lines and ink blots.

The wastebasket is almost full.

The lamp bulb emitted a faint humming sound, and Zhang Yong's forehead was almost touching the table.

The handwriting, which started out neat, gradually became crooked and messy.

But he dared not stop.

Zhang Yong knew the rules of the AFK system: you had to unlock the skill proficiency level before you could put it in the AFK slot.

My previous driving skills were unlocked after sitting on the steering wheel for twenty minutes.

When it comes to writing, I have no idea where the threshold is; I can't even grasp it, so I can only force myself to write.

If you finish writing on a piece of paper, just move on to the next one. If you can't write anymore, just stare at the ceiling for two minutes before continuing to write.

It was late at night, and Zhang Defa's snoring came from the next room—it was incredibly loud.

Zhang Yong shook his numb right hand, his knuckles cracking.

I wrote a little over two thousand words.

The beginning was changed four times.

To put it nicely, it's a long, rambling account; to put it bluntly, it's a pile of crap.

"If this were published on Tomato Magazine, the readers would laugh themselves to death."

"I'm sorry, Chinese teacher!"

"Um, well, what exactly is this 'earth' used for? Is it a whirlpool or a vortex?"

He muttered to himself, picked up a pen, circled a few misspelled words, and corrected them.

But two thousand words were squeezed out, enough for a whole chapter.

After Zhang Yong finished revising the last word, a layer of eerie blue light suddenly appeared before his eyes.

finally come.

The panel appeared in the center of the field of vision, and the text on it was rearranged.

[Skills already mastered: Driving Lv.4 | Writing Lv.0]

The words "[Writing Lv.0]" jumped twice, paused for a moment, and then settled steadily.

He gasped for breath, leaned back in the chair, and slumped down.

It's finally unlocked.

He quickly operated the control panel in his mind and first unloaded the driving skill from the idle position.

Driving skills have been removed from the AFK (away from keyboard) slot.

[Driving Lv.4 ~ Current Proficiency: Fixed]

Then select the writing skill and fill it into the empty AFK slot.

Should I move the writing skill to the auto-play slot?

"Yes."

[Writing skills successfully transferred.]

[Writing skills training in progress...]

【1%...】

Zhang Yong felt something loosening deep within his mind.

Those words that were stuck in my throat, words I could think of but couldn't write down, began to seep into my consciousness little by little.

This process is very gradual; the relevant knowledge slowly and continuously seeps directly into the mind.

Zhang Yong glanced down at the stack of messy manuscript papers on the table.

The young man muttered to himself.

"14 days..."

The AFK speed is 30 times faster, and 24 hours a day equals 720 hours.

Writing is not like driving; it requires mastering the fundamentals of language and cultivating aesthetic appreciation, each of which requires a significant amount of time to refine.

Based on a standard of 10,000 hours, it would take approximately fourteen days.

In 14 days, he will have excellent writing skills.

Thinking of this, Zhang Yong stood up and stretched, only to realize that it was already daylight outside.

I actually wrote all night.

He rubbed his eyes wearily, then flopped onto the bed, buried his face in the pillow, and fell fast asleep.

Even with my eyes closed, the light and shadow of the panel still lingered in my vision.

[AFK speed: 30x]

......

"Snapped!"

Zhang Yong suddenly felt a pain in his buttocks!