Night Rain Liao Zhai

In the past, there was a pudelion that left an immortal, built a liaozhai, and wrote about ghosts, foxes, spirits, and all the sorrows of the world. His writings are like the stars and the moon, shining brightly, making future generations admire him. The boy is not talented, but every time he reads it, his heart is moved, and he admires his romantic style. He occasionally sits at his desk under the lamp and writes leisurely. What I can remember is nothing more than conversations about eating in the countryside and fragmentary scenes in my dreams, in an attempt to try to figure out the meaning of the sages' writings. Now I boldly compile these immature exercises into a volume called "Little Liaozhai". The word "small" refers to the short length, immature writing skills, and fear in my heart that I dare not compare with the classics. The stories during this period may be based on its strangeness, or imitate its deep affection, but in the end, "Although the painting looks like a tiger, it ends up with the ears of a dog." I just hope that all readers will take the time to read it and just think it is like listening to a boy next door telling some immature strange stories and strange dreams. If I'm lucky enough to receive a smile from you or a moment of deep thought, that would be enough. I also sincerely ask the readers of the Fang family to not hesitate to criticize and point out omissions. I would like to thank you here.