The World Under the Stone

This is not a naturally perfect world. The sky has old wounds, the stones have old cracks, roads may be broken, songs may be broken, names may be changed, and hometown may not always be waiting for people in the same place. People's survival in such a place does not depend on a once-and-for-all answer, nor does anyone stand up and mend all the cracks at once. Many times, all that can support a person is a little light at hand, a pot of heat, a door panel, a high and low line on the door frame, and a name that will make people turn around when you shout it out at night. Therefore, this book was never just about opening the sky, cracking the stone, seven sacrifices, and old history. What it wants to write more about is: how something so ancient, so cold, and so big finally fell into people's hands, by the fire, at the door, and on children. When I wrote this book, I actually had a very simple thought in my mind: people can live in the cracks, in the shortcomings, in the lack of time and inability to stay, but people cannot live without lights. Sometimes this light is a home, sometimes it is a name, sometimes it is someone holding the door open for you, and sometimes it is you who is willing to hold the door halfway for others. It may not illuminate the world, but it is enough to let a person know why he still needs to move forward. You will see many things later: the world under the stone, returning to the old place by the water, the road lost, the remaining songs, the coldness in the old courtyard, the people by the fire, and a whole round of human world retreating. But if I had to say a word about this book first, I would rather say: I hope that when you open it, you will see the light first. If all of this can still be seen, this book will not be written in vain.