The Long Wind in the Wilderness

Rain is the confidant of words and the guide for the lost. In a corner of the city, Mo Xiaoyu stood in front of the window of a high-rise building, looking at the rain outside the window. For five years, he thought he could escape his past self by escaping the city, but found that he was just walking deeper and deeper into the maze. The lights of the city were bright but cold, like countless pairs of indifferent eyes, staring at the desolation in his heart. Until that morning, he saw a yellowed photo in the shop of his father's old friend Zhang. In the photo, the young father is holding the young boy in his arms, sitting by the familiar window, teaching him to write his first word. At that moment, he understood that his father had never given up on him and had been waiting for him to come back. "Your father said that you will become a great poet in the future." Uncle Zhang's words were like a drop of rain falling on the lake of his heart, causing ripples. The rain started to fall harder. He suddenly understood that it was not him who was looking for readers, but the people who needed these words, who were looking for him. Just like back then, he was in his father's study, looking for his own voice. Now, he stands at this new starting point. The rain stopped, and the sun shone through the clouds, illuminating the pen in his hand. He wants to start writing, not to prove anything, but to find himself who once wrote the first word in the rain. Mo Xiaoyu is not only the nourishment of words, but also the beginning of life. In the hustle and bustle of the city, he finally heard his inner voice, like raindrops falling on the lake of his heart, creating ripples that gradually spread until they covered the entire wasteland of his soul. This is the beginning of the return journey.