After his grandmother passed away, Lin Yan returned to an old alley in the West District and dug out a pomegranate skin book among the old belongings.
There are two words written on the first page - "Grey Hands". The gray ink stains cannot be rubbed or wiped away, as if they have grown from the fibers of the paper.
Grandma left an indentation on the last page: "Every name is a farewell."
Old alleys are disappearing. Demolition bulldozers came in one after another, walls peeled off, street lights were torn down, and neighbors moved to new areas. No one noticed that the little things that lived in the cracks in the wall, in the well water, and on the chalk dust also disappeared.
Lin Yan could see them. He began to record their names - not because they could save anything, but because seriousness itself is a resistance to disappearance.
Later he learned that his grandmother had done the same thing when she was seventeen. Gray Hands was the first name she wrote. And the little guy who stole his shadow has been waiting for him for seven years.
"I have memorized four hundred and twenty-three names. Behind every name is a farewell."
"Every name is a farewell."
"Then I will remember number 424 for you."
Purpose: Using a boy's daily record of monsters in the city as a carrier, it tells about the small kindness and tenderness hidden in the cracks of fireworks, and explores the essence of "seeing and remembering" - those unnoticed existences, easily forgotten times, and humble kindness. As long as someone remembers and protects them, they will always have warmth and a place to go.