The Bright Moon is Not Empty

About This Novel

The day I woke up, my eight-year-old son held my hand while I was standing on the edge of the cliff. My husband, who was not far away, had a sarcastic look on his face, as if he was sure that I would not dare to jump. The consciousness of the world persuaded me earnestly in my mind: "No matter how forced this relationship is, after so many years have passed, can you bear to abandon your eight-year-old son like this? He is the meat you shed during your ten-month pregnancy!" I laughed sarcastically and fell back: "I was born free, and I will never be a caged bird."

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