For a long time, I was lost. Looking back on my life, it seemed like nothing particularly noteworthy had ever happened to me.
It was only in this year of disappointment that I suddenly realized ordinary people make up the vast majority of the population. Why should I demand that I become a great person or a great writer?
It's the little, ordinary things that reveal what life is, isn't it? As Yu Hua said: A true writer always writes for their own heart.
Maybe these are just pitiful words of self-comfort, but at this moment, I suddenly feel the urge to write.
So this book is written purely for my own heart.
Theme: Life
