In the old town of Xi'an, at three o'clock in the afternoon, a second-hand bookstore opened on time. Actually earlier.
Some of the people who walked in came to look for books, some came to hide from the rain, some were passing by, and some didn't know what they were looking for. They don't know each other, and there are invisible threads hanging on their bodies, such as memory, desire, and love. They didn't know that they and the stranger had been gently tied together by the same hands.
One day all the strings break and the puppet ceases to exist.
Just like the shuttle on a loom, the weaver thinks he controls the warp and weft, but he doesn't know that the fabric itself is quietly determining its own texture.
God is the weaver and we are the living ones.
Zhu Chichi was an existence seen by God, and the myriad of strands that accompanied it were tightly wrapped around her body, so tightly that she could not relax.
Concept: Human beings are all puppets, puppets on strings, puppets on strings. So the human body is like a spider web, with threads hanging one after another, all kinds of threads, threads of responsibility, threads of desire, threads of memory, and threads of love. The intertwining of these threads is the fabric we call "life."
