Wash Away All the Lead in the World of Mortals

In the world where the five tones are deafening and the five colors are blinding, Fan Xiaoman is scarred and devastated. Neon shattered into pieces of glass that dug into the palm of your hand, and there was sand that broke your bones hidden in the traffic. Xiao Man stood in the middle of the crowd, covered with invisible wounds - the marks that had been chewed by sensual dogs and horses, and the days and nights that were broken and bonded in the feasting and feasting, all became footnotes to his desire to cry without tears. When the hustle and bustle finally subsided, he tremblingly picked up the pen as if holding onto the last piece of driftwood. Scenes from the past awaken at the tip of the pen: the neon lights that I thought could illuminate the road ahead ended up burning my eyes; the myriad colors I longed for, only to be left with a grayish white; the choked sobs hidden behind the laughter, and the sighs that no one heard in the middle of the night. This is not a gorgeous story, but it contains the pain that everyone who has stumbled in the world of mortals knows. He wrote about his scars, not to indulge in it, but to see if he could plant a little light on the ruins after the stains were washed away.