Taoist Years

When I am nearly forty years old, I look back on the past as if I was in a drunken dream. In my dreams, I often see the small courtyard in the mountains, the kind eyes of the master, and the evil smile of the uncle. Everything is as close as yesterday, yet as empty as smoke, and the strange things of those years are like dreams and hallucinations. I once remembered and narrated a few random stories, and all the monsters and monsters were in the world. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.