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This novel was inspired by an incident I heard in my life: in the lounge of a new job, I listened to a talkative cleaning lady talk about a bunch of potted plants. I still don't know what kind of plants this bunch of potted plants are. Her original words were: "A pretty girl in her mid-twenties jumped off a building and left this potted plant behind." That was the end of the story. I didn't ask anything about it. I didn't even know the girl's name, let alone the reason why she jumped. Perhaps out of pity, as Russell said, unstoppable sympathy for human suffering, I wrote this novel titled "Strange Gift". On the one hand, it is dedicated to her, and on the other hand, it is thinking. Of course, because I really knew nothing about her, I created, or could be said to be, a fictional "her". Even though her death must be due to some tragic experience, I am not committed to describing the bleak life. Instead, I choose to describe hope and love, and see friendship, family, and love in the world as a bystander. I also hope to convey a concept through a way of telling: when one person tells another person about other people, I hope that the person in the story is all good to another person who is still a stranger. This may also be one of the meanings of strange gifts.