The Nothingness I Wrote in My Loneliness
by Lu Qingzhe
About This Novel
One night, I sat by the window, in a daze, as empty as a body with flimsy cicada wings. It just occurred to me that it has been three years since I was in such a hurry, but I never put my pen down in my heart. I am separated from nature by a screen window, and the outside air has been trying to embrace me. Suddenly, I really want to be one with the tranquil nature, and I really want to go back to the time when I was happy and free, and I could write freely. I finally mustered up the courage to hold the pen tightly, trembling, from late night to dawn, from loneliness to relief. Although they are messy, they are true, and although they are incomprehensible, they are still hot. Please lend me a few songs and let me tell you about the warmth and coldness of a night.
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