Ten years ago, I went to Window of the World. I walked in the artificial scenery, looking at the people coming and going indifferently, and felt all kinds of things in my heart. Sad, depressed, melancholy, happy, angry, confused, all weighing heavily on my heart, almost breathless. Those people, what are they laughing at? What are they happy about? Do they know that there is such a group of people and such a story?
No, they don't know, I'm almost in tears, I can't go there, but I'm still happy.
In the eleventh year, they have lived in that small and beautiful village for a year. Good water is the most nourishing thing. Wu Xie's hair must have grown out, and it is thin and soft. However, I just lay in bed and read this story again, and I thought, I am in this story. Maybe, I am a piece of grass, a small insect, or a stone. But I saw them, I saw them, they were walking by, talking.
It's been twelve years now and I still can't go to Changbai, maybe not even in thirteen years. When I am a freshman or sophomore, or graduate from college, or get a job, or spend my old age in peace, in short, I will go to Changbai once. This is my obsession. I know clearly that I cannot find them or see them, but I can hold a handful of long-white snow, see the stretching snow-capped mountains, and tell others this beautiful story.
Therefore, I inexplicably want to write something to leave my mark on this special day.