Twelve Posts on the Spring Breeze

Lu Ci is not a genius. When I was seven years old, I broke my pen when I was describing red. At seventeen years old, I almost died of illness in Gongyuan when I was admitted to the scholar examination. At twenty-two years old, I stood in the crowd at a loss after passing the imperial examination. At twenty-four years old, I was the bookkeeper and my boss made things difficult for me and I couldn't sleep in the middle of the night. He has never achieved success in his life, nor has he achieved rapid success. All he had was the figure of his mother mending his clothes after he made a mistake, his wife silently studying ink when he left home, a candy handed to him by his son when he was tired, and a bowl of water spontaneously placed by the people by the roadside when he retired. He had been afraid. I am afraid that I will fail the exam and let my parents down, I am afraid that I will be a bad official and my family will be implicated, I am afraid that I will be nothing more than a mediocre person in this life. He was at a loss. I don't know what I'm studying for, I don't know if I'm on the right path, I don't know how to be a son, a husband, a father, and an official at the same time. But he gritted his teeth and came over. It's not because of how powerful he is, but because there are lights behind him - the lights of his parents, his wife's lights, the people's lights, and the light in his own heart that has never been extinguished. This light is called conscience. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.