The Past and Present Lives in Wangyouzhanli

Capture the stars and wind from the old alleys and cut ordinary little things into cloud-like chapters. Hidden between the words are the moon on the corner of the eaves, the tea on the desk, and the unfinished whispers in the wooden window. They do not pursue strange stories or grand chapters. They only use the soft brushstrokes of prose poetry to gently compile the small and tender feelings in the fireworks into this old record. When reading, it is like holding a silk handkerchief soaked in the fragrance of ink. You can touch the softness of time and taste the poetry in the story.