Exit Customs

What is recorded in this little book is just a walking man. His name is Chen Cun, a young man who reads "Mencius" in Chang'an City. One day, he felt that there was a crack between the principles in the book and the ground beneath his feet. So he left. Go west, keep going west, walk through deserts, snow-capped mountains, grasslands, rivers, and reach a place without a name. I write about him not because he is some kind of hero. He is not. He does not have the tragedy of Li Ling, the perseverance of Sima Qian, and the stubbornness of Su Wu. He is just an ordinary person. His feet hurt, his mouth feels thirsty, and he wakes up in the middle of the night, not knowing why he left. But he's gone. Keep walking. That's enough. During the days when I was writing this novel, I was not in good health. The problem with my lungs has been with me for many years. The doctor told me to rest, but I couldn't rest. It's not because I'm anxious, it's because some things can only be understood when I'm moving. When walking, my feet hit the ground, and little by little, the tangles in my mind slowly unraveled. Chen Cun has gone a long way for me. He went where I couldn't go. Someone asked me, what did Chen Cun find in the end? I have no idea. Maybe nothing was found. Maybe "finding" itself isn't important. What matters is that he is looking. He is walking. He is there. If this book can remind you of your own path, or of the path you once wanted to take but didn't, that's its greatest use. The road waits for no one. But people walk.