Autobiography: A Tumultuous Life of a Romantic Rogue

I was born on the eleventh day of the eleventh lunar month in 1985, in Songzhu Hall in Songzhu Village, Hunan Province, as the chill of winter began to deepen.

Songzhu Village was like an ancient, timeless ink painting, every scene rich with meaning, like a poem written by time. As a child, I was full of curiosity and often tugged at my elders' sleeves, asking why the village was called Songzhu.

It turned out that mountains rose and fell all around the village, looking from afar like a green sea. Pine trees and bamboo covered the slopes, leaning against one another and enduring wind and rain year after year. Their resilience and purity became the deeply rooted spirit of this land.

This unique village and its old ancestral hall formed the backdrop to the opening of my life's story. Those fragments of memory shine like treasures through the years, bearing witness to where I began and holding countless stories I will never forget.