Fifteen-year-old Chen Shuo came into contact with the "river" for the first time in bed in the early morning - those undercurrents of text hidden deep in the Internet without ISBNs or editors. He learned to breathe through his gills, learned to dance on the edge of a minefield, and learned to write stories in exquisite language that made countless people tremble. He became a "traditional reader" and had tens of thousands of readers, thinking that he had opened a door to a new world.
He didn't know there was another door behind that door.
Thirty years later, in the same early morning, half of his son Xiao Chen's face was illuminated by the same blue light. His granddaughter Chen Xi was too well-behaved to be like a child, but she created a folder on the tablet with a name of only one word: River.
Three generations, one river. Silence is passed from father to son, and from son to granddaughter, like a chain that will never break. Chen Shuo deleted thirty years of collections, published a book called "That River, That Net", and wrote 8,000 words after 8,000 words in countless early mornings. But he knew that no matter how many words he wrote, he could not block the river. He was just awake next to everyone else who was sleeping.
Purpose: Break the intergenerational silence, reconcile with inner desires, and move towards true intimacy
