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This is my ordinary life full of ravages. Indeed, among all living beings, who is not a speck of dust in this boundless sea of ​​humanity? Who is not a glimmer of light, a fleeting afterimage in the long river of time? Destiny may anchor us on ordinary rocks, but in the seemingly stagnant rocks, we are actually struggling to grow the tenacity of our own postures - even if we are as humble as weeds, we must carve our own curved arcs in the wind; even if we are as small as a flowing firefly, we must draw a weak but stubborn trajectory under the dark night. The question about "the meaning of life" has been lingering deep in my chest like a cold railroad track for many years. At this moment, I am trying to lay out here the remnants and glimmers of light that were knocked out by the bumps. Not to shock the world, I just hope that this tremor from the depths of the dust can accidentally touch another heart that is also walking alone, causing an inaudible echo or a silent resonance for a moment. Probably, this is the twilight of not giving up at all in this ordinary long night.

Under a big willow tree in the mountains, a white-haired old man said to the young man in front of him: Let me teach you my way My path is not to become an immortal or become a Buddha My way is not to worship gods and Buddhas. My way is not magical powers; If you follow my way, you will not be able to live forever. You have to go to the mortal world to experience and become a mortal and an immortal. There are thousands of difficulties, mountains of swords and seas of fire. Do you still want to learn my way? The young man asked: Can you control your destiny in your own hands? The old man said: It can be done The young man said: I will learn, I must learn. If God does not allow me, I will rebel against God. If God does not stop me, I will kill God.