Xuanwen Mingdao

In this world, words are the root and inscriptions are the way. All living beings are born with thirty-six soul character positions, one for each character, and they will be destroyed when they are filled. As for high-speed rail, it has been passed down through the ages: slow is fast, less is more. But the bottom class will die of ferocious beasts if they don't write words, the middle class will be crushed if they don't overdraw, and the top class monopolizes high-end literary resources and lowers the upper limit of all living beings. No one is qualified to take the slow road. On the day Su Mo was born, his father stuffed a peach wood tablet into his swaddling clothes with the word "slow" engraved on it. It was many years later that he understood that it was the lightest blessing and the heaviest curse. The wind in Qingyang City smells rancid, the people at the mine entrance are coughing up black blood, and the patterns on the soul cores are like maggots burrowing under the skin. Mr. Zhou had half a volume of "Xuanwen's Travel Notes", and the pages were burnt black. He said: "Xuanwenzi is not a god, but a poor old man. He wrote himself into the book and became the first character." Su Mo asked: "What happened next?" Mr. Zhou smiled, showing his missing teeth: "Later, he wrote an extra line - late comers, write more slowly." But Su Mo couldn't slow down. He carved many words. To protect someone. Until the engraving is completed, until the demon goes crazy, until the whole world is surrounded and suppressed, until that person disappears and says: "Brother Su Mo, we said we would live slowly together." Then he burned everything. There was only a mahogany sign left in the ashes, with the word "Slow" facing down, buried in the shadow. There is a layer of frost on the bottom of the card, and the frost patterns look like words and cracks. Some people say it is "regret", some people say it is "return", and some people say it is "not yet". If Mr. Zhou were still alive, he would probably smile and say: When Xuan Wenzi was closing his pen, a drop of ink spilled and it happened to fall on this character.