The Amusing Adventures of a Directionally Challenged Dad and Daughter

Thank you, my dear readers, for always supporting the author!

Dear readers, what do you think defines a "Mary Sue" character?

Seeing the rapidly declining readership stats, the author is feeling a bit uncertain.

I’ve seen comments calling this a "Mary Sue" novel.

I know Chang Le’s character development might have faltered, and Yu San’s arc didn’t go as planned either, but human nature is the hardest thing to predict. How can one grow without going through hardships?

The female lead comes from a post-apocalyptic world, but she was well-protected and has always held onto her moral principles.

Old Six was bullied all his life, but he eventually found redemption.

Is it so strange for them to feel compassion for those in suffering?

Moreover, later on, they cut ties decisively and never tried to "save the world." How does that make this a "Mary Sue" story?

If giving Madam some food and water counts as "Mary Sue" behavior, well, Madam did set up a memorial tablet for the father and daughter in gratitude.

They ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‍handled their own affairs without dragging others into it or making demands—bearing all consequences themselves. Did they do something wrong?

Does the standard for not being a "Mary Sue" mean being cold-blooded, devoid of sympathy or compassion, living like an emotionless machine?

Perhaps my understanding differs from most people’s.

To me, a "Mary Sue" is someone who imposes their so-called kindness on others while being incapable of following through, ultimately harming both themselves and others.

I asked some friends for their opinions.

I said, "Is feeding stray cats and dogs with my own money a 'Mary Sue' act?"

One friend said, "No."

Another said, "Yes."

I asked again, "Once, I bought a meal for an elderly, lonely patient in the same hospital ward. Is that 'Mary Sue' behavior?"

A friend replied, "Yes."

But I used money I earned from a part-time job—not borrowed from my parents.

I kept asking more questions.

I said, "A neighbor borrowed some vinegar from my mom. Later, they bought a new bottle to return it, but my mom refused to take it. Is that 'Mary Sue' behavior? The vinegar we lent was barely a quarter of the bottle left."

A friend said, "Probably."

But I disagreed. To me, it wasn’t, because we rarely used that vinegar—it had been sitting there for a year—and that neighbor often shared homegrown vegetables with us.

I asked, "When I was almost late, I saw a sanitation worker struggling to pull a garbage cart uphill. I gave her a quick push, which made me 30 seconds late. Was that overly 'Mary Sue'?"

A friend said, "Yes. You didn’t handle your own business first but played the hero instead."

I showed my novel to friends and asked if it felt too "Mary Sue."

One said, "Actually, the female lead and Old Six’s actions make sense. Kindness with boundaries is better than heartless indifference."

But another insisted it was too "Mary Sue."

So how exactly should we define "Mary Sue"?

When I wrote about saving Chang Le, I thought of it like rescuing a stray cat or dog. Keeping him afterward was because, in that harsh environment, sending him away would have meant certain death—wouldn’t that make the initial rescue pointless?

Giving Madam food and water was inspired by a story I once read: in moments of utter despair, people long for someone to lend them a hand.

She just wanted to help Madam and others like her survive a little longer—not take full responsibility for their lives. Was that wrong?

As I kept writing, I realized many readers dislike stories with rescue arcs.

Early on, I debated whether to cut such scenes altogether. But then I thought—how can a flesh-and-blood character with independent thoughts and emotions always act with perfect rationality?

Right now, the author is truly lost.