I read Xi Murong when I was young, and there was a passage that went like this: In this life, I am just an actor, shedding my own tears in other people's stories.
We all live in stories, so real and so false, and we see our own shadow in other people's world. The mediocre and ordinary growth, when I look back suddenly, my heart is shaken by these trivial past events, love and hate, separation, laughter and tears, finally become a warm time.