This is not a long coherent novel, but a collection of essays dedicated to "fragments of the human world".
The whole book is composed of several independent unit stories. The chapters are not connected to each other and there is no main protagonist. You can open any article at will, just like encountering a yellowed diary on a lazy afternoon, or listening to an old and strange friend whispering slowly across time.
Here I write about the thin ice that first melts on the river bank in spring, about the unexpected heavy rain on the streets in summer night; about the pain of a sycamore leaf hitting my shoulder in late autumn, and about the white air from a bowl of instant noodles in the winter snow. The genre wanders between narrative prose, short novels and miscellaneous feelings of life - there are passers-by passing by, old dreams buried deep in the heart, late nights in foreign lands, and the clearest universe in the eyes of children.
Each article is a complete small world, and the style may be gentle, sad, or absurd, all written according to one's heart. If you are tired of lengthy plots and fixed protagonists, you might as well take a break here. There is no need to catch up on updates or remember the relationships between characters. With just a cup of tea, you can watch a life in miniature.
The so-called search for the four seasons is nothing more than picking up the missing and sparkling daily life in an impermanent place.
Purpose: Life is composed of countless fragments, and each paragraph deserves to be written solemnly. In the scattered fragments, we can salvage the real human temperature.