Preface
At midnight, the lights are bright. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the 23rd floor, you can look down at the world below you, which is colorful and prosperous. The sky in the distance was dyed red by street lights, reaching to the sky. How many years has it been? When I looked up, I could no longer find the dreamlike sky of that early autumn. Those stars that witness all the joys and sorrows have long been hidden in the glow of neon.
On the twenty-third floor, I thought this height was enough to make me feel like an observer, witnessing everything in the world as an outsider. Every day, every night, every minute, there is a story that begins, continues, and ends. There are some people who are fighting for their own beliefs. Either happy or sad, some people love it, some people are hurt, some people are in pain, some people cry. When everything calms down, the bustle fades away, the lights go out, and the dance ends. We drag ourselves with fatigue, make a grand finale, or exit in embarrassment. If we take off our masks and makeup, what will we be left with? As time goes by, beauty has been taken away by time; fame and fortune are endless, but they are just the tip of the iceberg; honors are at their peak, but they are still forgotten by the world. Only the love that has washed away the lead remains new over time. After years of precipitation, it becomes more and more rich and mellow.
I just want to tell this story as a narrator, using my poor words and a plain tone. The story itself may be just a story, and a thousand readers will have a thousand Hamlets. So, I don't insist on how many people like my story. The story itself is just a description of a mood, nothing more.