Qianshui Town is very humid, like a thread-bound book soaked by the rain.
Zhuang Yang is a mute living in the cracks of the book. He does not fight or snatch, and is quiet, like a reed growing silently at the river port.
The analysis is like a dot of ink that breaks into the painting, crying, fussing, and stumbling, like a bonfire falling on the bluestone slab.
Intention: Life is long, just stay with us