[The third of my unconventional web novels. See the content warnings below for details.]
That year, motorcycles were banned throughout Hong Kong.
The figures who used to weave through the summer heat on their motorbikes seemed to disappear overnight.
But the listless, decadent young men with nowhere to go did not.
They still drifted through the streets and alleys like stray dogs.
Cigarette butts, shirts, crumpled banknotes, a river beneath the setting sun.
And cold beads of condensation on soda bottles...
Warm sweat between the sheets, soft skin.
That was the last of their youth.
It was a sweltering summer in Lingnan.
I fell in love with another version of myself in this world.
Runaway drifter gong x unemployed vagabond shou
[Content Warnings]
1. This is an early, immature work. Issues with its structure, prose, and pacing may affect the reading experience. Please proceed with caution. A bow.
2. This novel contains a great deal of stream-of-consciousness rambling and elaborate description. It doesn’t speak like a normal person. It’s a strange product of watching too many Hong Kong films.
3. The novel mixes in a lot of melodramatic and bizarre plot points and settings, and is far removed from reality. Please treat it as an alternate universe. Any descriptions of side characters’ illegal acts are entirely made up by the author and exist only to move the plot forward. Please do not connect them to real life.
4. The characters are flawed and their values are confused (seriously). What a character says does not represent the author’s views, and a character’s values do not represent the author’s.
5. This novel underwent major revisions, completed in 2024. The author is not responsible for pirated copies.
Theme: Keep going and work hard to live your life.
The red water flowed through the cracks in the stone, and the ashes remained silent. I have never been to Lingnan. I don't know if there will be lost moths under the neon lights of the port city, and I don't know if the steel relics carried by trucks in front of the train station will rush to their destination; but I know how the wind in the mountains and white clouds swim with each other, and I know how the southern sea will send the waves to the cliff. I looked around at the streets in the heat wave, flipping through this page full of handwriting; the cursive writing in the city was dancing on its own, extremely bright and tattered, and the things that had been sorted out were neither dilapidated nor ripples. The first time I watched a Wong Kar-Wai movie was in class, probably during the free class after the finals. I pulled down the curtains and stuffed the USB drive into the room, and everyone in the classroom started watching "Happy Together" outrageously. How do you say that? You can always trust the aesthetics of girls in liberal arts classes. From the black and white opening of Buenos Aires, to the Mujian Waterfall, the entanglement of music and singing, the camera appeared, and the boys in the class screamed and rushed to cut the film. The successor is KyoAni's Beautiful Violet. The lights and shadows in the cafe are swaying, the struggle on the screen is lingering, and the people outside the screen are about to catch up with the tide. Watching a movie together is probably the best team building. To go a long way, the reason why I thought of this is because the large text has the flavor of Wong Kar-Wai's movies: extremely real and extremely unreal. The dripping tide did not let me be swept away. Some horses are born to conquer the wind, but how can they bear to be locked up in a pile of masks of fame, fortune and glory, with a glorious income but a mediocre life. I saw the lightness of Sulfan, the weight of the money-printing dye, the glass wall under the goldfish tank, and the teenagers who climbed over the south wall with their hands. The wind roars between the buildings, and the wind still stands outside the narrow alley, but the large words give comfort to the time of drowning under the tide, and let people see the way out. I was amazed at first and thought about it in the end. I really, really like this story! I hope both Mu Yang and Ming Shou can find their own world in this world. Bow ninety degrees, Uno, come on!
In fact, a person who is famous and admired by thousands of people will eventually become the most blameless drop of water in the long river of history. People are really too small. So sometimes I feel that chasing fame and fortune, getting into fights over trivial things, spending your whole life doing things you don't like for a living, getting married, raising the next generation... It will all be a piece of cake after a hundred years. Simply live a little selfishly and freely, only do what you like, and not be coerced by anyone. Maybe I don't mean much to the world, but my happiness is the greatest meaning.
I like the ending of the story, or the last frame - the story continues to go deeper in the frame. At the moment before departure, some things are reconciled, and some are still persistent and lonely in the world of young people. The long river of time has abandoned some things on the shore, and he They finally no longer stayed there in confusion. After letting go, letting go and collecting some things, they no longer regretted or feared. So, they ran forward with a little recklessness and no longer looked back - it was tragic, exciting, comfortable and warm, facing the sunset and heading towards the sunrise.
I saw this in one go and couldn't wait to finish it! Give Teacher Asu some money first! It is so well written and so upright that in just a few words it can convey a tightly entwined emotion. It has to be this kind of era, it has to be this kind of city, and it has to be this kind of age, so that two people can live at the junction of the times and rebel and fall in love freely in a corner of the world that no one knows about. It's so exciting and I like it so much. Thank you to the author for writing about each other. Thank you for writing a book like this. If you like it, please continue writing! \^O^/
I'm sorry to see you so late. The author is really gentle. Give me freedom or give me death. Whether it is war or peace, this is the oath of the shining soul. Thank you for letting me pass by your story.
Kelsang will bloom on the steel, and river water will burst out of the oil. This sentence is really amazing.
Somehow a poem comes to mind: His bones are the mountains I cannot climb. Summer is always the best season for stories. As long as the cicadas keep chirping, the mood will never be forgotten.
I have been reading the article for so long, and this is the first time I have the urge to leave a comment. Although the article is not long, the writing style is gentle, delicate and hot. Everyone is playing in their own lives. The world is so big, let's go and see it together.
Wow ah ah ah I really like this kind of writing. It is very relaxed and poetic, and it combines ideals and reality. It is really beautiful, just like the old rubber from before.
Red, black, good, rotten, burn them cleanly and wantonly. When the ashes say nothing, the moonlight may rush back to you through the cracks in the stone.