Yi Chichi, "…It's all fake."
Wen Shi sniffled, "I know, but it still makes me sad."
Looking at the script once more, he said, "Wife, your short story is really well written. Have you thought about submitting it?"
"No, I don't have the time, and I'm not interested."
It's not like the postmodern era where you can write anything.
Submissions not only have to fit the larger environment, but the themes are also restricted.
If I'm not careful, I'll cross a line; I'd have to be crazy to submit something.
"I can't earn money that way."
Worried he would persist, Yi Chichi firmly ended the discussion, "Don't even think about it. You're destined not to have a writer as a wife, only an embroiderer as a wife."
Wen Shi looked at the light bulb emitting a dim yellow light overhead, "What kind of embroiderer gets paid thousands for a piece of embroidery?"
If embroidery were this profitable, he was sure countless men would want to marry such a woman.
