Strictly speaking, this book is a student's autobiography. But the time it happened was in ancient times, and the place it happened was in Jianghu. I tell myself and the world through other people's stories. At least this part of my surroundings.
But not all people are like this. What we write down as words are actually memories. It's just that some people recall others from their own perspective, while I recall myself from her perspective. It's his story, and it's also mine.
In the story, Chen Xiaodao (the protagonist) has been doing meaningless things before his death: revenge for his master. The reason why it is meaningless is because the person was not found until the end. Don't even know who it is. Knowing that this will happen, he still continues to go on, this is his tragedy. And on this so-called road of revenge, he gradually lost himself and the life he once pursued. Nothing left.
The reality is often more absurd than the stories in the book. We live in confusion; gradually forget why we live and why we are confused. Many things seem to be necessary but are actually meaningless. In such things, we lose the sky and the inch of land that originally belong to us. Who cares about the true meaning? Like the truth, it has become dispensable.
But even so, I still try to change something, whether it is the world or myself.
I hope that one day, stories only belong to the people in them. I'm just trying to tell it in a humorous way.