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At the end of 2005, I had a meeting in Dongguan. When he got in the car before the meeting ended, he received a call from Zhang Zhilin, saying that Mengmeng was seriously ill. He pondered for a moment, and then said that it was lung cancer. Now she has been transferred from Haikou to Guangzhou for treatment and lives in the Cancer Hospital of Sun Yat-sen University School of Medicine on Zhixin South Road. My heart suddenly sank after hearing this. For a while, I couldn't associate cuteness with terminal illness. On the way back to Guangzhou, I was in a daze. The way she appeared in front of me was always smiling like a flower and always in a good mood. Her brisk speaking tone, like reciting lines, made her stand out from the crowd. She is always associated with pride, superiority and elegance. She often wears black clothes and skirts, but she wears black in a gorgeous and dazzling way, showing a delicacy and nobility that is very different from the hurried and rough women of this era.

This book is a collection of prose essays. It is the latest masterpiece of the well-known writer Ai Yun. It writes about her experiences and feelings while traveling around the world, and truly presents the local human geography and history. Following the traces of local thinkers, this book is not only a profound dialogue between the writer and the local cultural landscape, but also the reflection and long-lasting echo of his rich mind on the world. The author uses language full of vitality and imagination to bring readers into the secrets of people's hearts, making the regions, scenery and local thinkers vivid and vivid, as if they are vividly remembered.

Knock on the door of your heart and ask yourself about your heart; Immortals have desires and are not heartless; The road to immortality is long and far away, where can you go?

Although Yan Lianke and I are from the same hometown, we are not familiar with each other. I only remember meeting once in the late autumn of 1999 at the "Central Plains Forum" seminar held in Xiaoji, Xinxiang, Henan. We went back to attend this conference as writers from Henan Province working outside the province. In late autumn in the north, the chill is already very obvious. Yan Lianke walked towards him. He was of medium height, with a mature face and a solid build. He was dressed thickly and not neatly, giving people a very heavy feeling. His expression was not alert, he looked gloomy and clumsy. When he stood there, the colorful light shone on him through the gaps between the trees. It was thick and heavy like a rock, but not so hard and cold. In silence, behind him was the desolate and ancient countryside of the Central Plains. The sky is still blue during the day, but you can feel that after the sun disappears, the incomplete night, the moving shadows, and the sleepless sadness are swaying.

In 1816, Constant once again attempted a final reconciliation with Madame de Stael, but she rejected him. She died the following year at the age of 51. She left him with a reputation as a traitor forever. Could she not remember the companionship of Constant during her years of exile? At that time, Madame de Stael received the order of exile from Napoleon, and she did not have the slightest fear, because Constant would spend the time with her. The carriage was galloping on its way from Paris to the place of exile. It was autumn, the maple leaves dyed the scenery on both sides red, and there were big irises blooming on the roadside. Two young men and women in love, with ideals and splendid articles in their hearts, embraced each other in the bumpy road. During the break, they would discuss matters of the country and the nation, as well as literary writing.