The past is like smoke and has gone with the wind. I stand on the threshold of thirty. Confucius said that he should stand up at thirty. So turning thirty became a sharp knife in my hand. In Lu Xun's eyes, writing is "for the memory of forgetfulness." It is for this reason that I accidentally picked up a pen several years after leaving campus, and I couldn't control it. I suddenly discovered that writers are all children who seek answers but cannot find them, so in the labyrinth of words, readers join the expedition.
"Scream", "Wandering", "Sorrowful Death", "Picking Up Flowers in the Morning and Evening".
The tetralogy of university is not the tetralogy of life. The camp is made of iron and the soldiers are flowing water. Where I sing and cry, who is selling you cheap idealism? The teacher's right and wrong collapsed in the rainy rainbow. Enter my words and get out of your purgatory.