It was the eighteenth year of the Republic of China, the weather in old Beijing in May.Although the sun is covered with a layer of light clouds, the wind blows on people, and they don't feel very cold.The lilacs, peonies, and peonies in Zhongshan Park have all bloomed; however, in the shade of the green trees, there are some bonsai of Chiba pomegranates scattered here and there, with scarlet dots, just emerging on the green leaves, which are particularly delicate and charming.The lotus leaves in the pool are no more than the size of a bowl, about ten or twenty, floating on the waves like fish scales.The willows by the water, with their green tassels about ten feet long, brush against the shadows in the water.There are a few red houses in the green trees, aren't they the "Siyi Pavilion" behind the water pavilion?Looking across the bank under the hill, it is really a meticulous painting!

On this day, I changed into a set of gray serge casual clothes, and I feel very light on my body.With a pocket diary in my pocket, I walked through the "Siyi Pavilion", crossed the stone bridge, and went straight up the hill.Between the rows of earth hills, there is a thatched pavilion with a pair of stone tables and chairs, just for rest.I leaned against the stone table and sat on the stone pier.This is a secluded place, with few people coming and going, and I am slowly appreciating this meticulous painting.Although, my purpose is not on the pomegranate flowers, the lotus money, or all the scenery on the willow tower; I just want to use these foreign things to arouse my emotions.When I was in a good mood, I conjured up a phantom of joys and sorrows in my mind.I don't want these phantoms to disappear immediately. As soon as I thought about them, I immediately took out my diary and jotted down the general idea with a pencil.What are these phantoms?To tell you the truth, that is what you are reading now.After I created this phantom in my mind, it was really like a movie on the screen, which kept pouring out scene by scene.I also remember being very happy, the pencil rustling, just drawing in the diary.When I raised my head by chance, it almost interrupted my thoughts.It turned out that on the hill, there were several young girls who were lying on a big rock, and they also watched me and whispered.What they meant was that they thought that this person had gone crazy, and they hid here and buried themselves in capital letters.I thought to myself: Flowing water and high mountains, this is my confidant, I don’t know if they understand that I am laying out for a novel.I was thinking like this, and immediately the second feeling told me that Wensi was like setting off fireworks—let it go, it will never come back, and it cannot be stopped.So I immediately ignored those girls and started writing about them again.I finished writing in one breath, and the girls disappeared, only a magpie flew out of the willow tree opposite, breaking the silence on the side of the hill.To this day, this impression remains in my mind.

This one was born in this way.I myself don't know whether I have any intentions, let alone whether there is any reason for me to write this way.In short, I just caught my fantasy from that day and wrote it down. ——This is what I can tell readers naked.Before I had this fantasy, Mr. Qian Jiechen originally introduced me to Mr. Yan Duhe from "News News" at the "Laijin Yuxuan" in Zhongshan Park to welcome the Northeast inspection team of Shanghai journalists.And Mr. Yan knew that I was in the North, so he often scribbled some novels, and asked me to write one with "News" and "Happy Forest".I am a person who sells literature for a living, so of course I am very happy to agree.It's just that after I agreed, I didn't plan how to start writing.It was not until this day that it was laid out on the thatched pavilion that there was a shadow of this book.

Speaking of this, I have two superfluous words, which I can add: Some people say that novels are "creating life", while others say that novels are "narrating life".If you prefer the former, you should write about superhuman things; if you prefer the latter, you only need to write about some characters in the universe.However, I think this is a purely literary novel, and a person like me who doesn't read much would never dare to climb high.Since I sell literature as a profession, I certainly have to work hard for my profession; however, I must never forget that writing novels is my profession.In professional composition, how dare I have the slightest self-promise?When it was published in "Happy Forest" day by day, many scholars in the literary world corrected it;In this way, I am doubly ashamed.

On the day when the pamphlet will be printed, I arrived in Nanjing. Mr. Duhe was overjoyed and wrote a letter asking me for a preface.However, my motivation for writing a book is so, what should I write?As I was hesitating, Mr. Qian Jiechen and Mr. Shu Sheyu, who lived with me, encouraged me to write a preface in vernacular, thinking that it would be more realistic.To be honest, I have never done a preface to the vernacular in my life, so I reluctantly followed my father's advice and gave it a try.Because of writing the vernacular preface, I didn't try to play tricks, but just told the story of writing the book honestly.

After this novel was published in Shanghai, I made many good friends. This is really a gratifying event in my life.I did not return to the south for seven or eight years; when I did, it coincided with the publication of this novel, and I was even happier.Therefore, although this book is not very humble, or maybe I say "I cherish it with a broom", when the pomegranate flowers bloom next year, I will definitely take the whole book and sit on the thatched pavilion in Zhongshan Park to celebrate the second anniversary.At that time, the willows, lotus coins, ponds, and waterside pavilions were probably all the same; but the girl and magpie of the past must never be met.The fantasy of life can constitute a novel of false facts; but the reality of life is really like a phantom!As I write this, I myself feel a little "ridiculous".

Evening of November 21, 1930