Book Title: the Sound of Scissors in Jiangnan

This is a pair of scissors hidden in the shadow of the city wall. It has cut other people's hair and also cut my own life. The wind from the south of the Yangtze River and the dust from the northwest all blew through these hands. It once held the hot and dyeing stick in the bustling city, and also held the cold contract on the rainy night of bankruptcy. The author uses the perspective of a barber to dissect the romance and embarrassment of lower-class men - on one side is the gentleness of the scissors traveling through the hair, and on the other side is the dull pain of repeated pulling in reality. There is no earth-shattering plot, but every word is the weight of life. Those days of being pushed to the edge, those moments of practicing smiling alone in front of the mirror, are like every ordinary person floating at the bottom. Scissors can cut away the threads of worries, but they cannot cut off the shackles of fate; in the mirror, you can see the glory of others, but you cannot reveal your own scars hidden in the corner. This is not a cool book. It is not responsible for solving your problems, it is only responsible for showing you the folds of life. After reading it, you will understand: It turns out that some tenderness is tempered by life; some silence is because you can no longer express your grievances.

Many readers will wonder after reading the story: whether the love, hate, romance, absurdity, and desolate human nature written in the book are all the author's personal experiences. Here is a unified explanation: All the entanglements in the market, the love between men and women, and the joys and sorrows in the full text are all based on real people and true stories told by close friends after drinking. They represent the various forms of love among all living beings in the world. I wrote about the greed of human nature, the cruelty of emotions, and the brokenness and despair of women for love. It was never about the chaos of my private life, but the truthful record of love, hate and helplessness in the fireworks of the world. After seeing the absurdity of the world, and experiencing the warmth and warmth of human relationships, I understand more and more how rare it is to be dedicated and long-term, and to stay together sincerely. All the people I write about are human beings, and my heart will always be sincere and pure. The story is about the vicissitudes of life, and I only keep one single-minded tenderness.

"Scissors under the City Wall": A pair of scissors that has cut through thousands of blue hairs has also cut through the folds of my own life. From a street hair salon to a two-story shop, and then to a broken head during the epidemic, these hands have held perm and dye sticks, and also held cold IOUs. The wind under the city wall blew away the guests from Jiangnan, and also blew away my embarrassed and stubborn half of my life. When I was writing this book, I often stared in the mirror in a daze: scissors can cut away the threads of worry, but they cannot cut off the shackles of fate; I can give customers satisfactory haircuts, but they cannot cut off my trapped life. If you have also experienced ups and downs at the bottom, and have held on to life with a pair of "scissors", please feel free to chat in the comment area - which memory do you want to cut off the most?