Husband!Isn't life and the universe a mysterious and elusive tragedy?I have family members and reunion with food and drink all day long, and I am very happy.However, if we have a reunion with food today, will we still have a reunion with food tomorrow?Unpredictable also.I have my own body, and today I drink green onions and chant poems, and when I get drunk on the couch, I feel at ease.But is it true today, will it be true tomorrow?Also unknown.The closest thing is family members, and the most independent person is my body, and my family and my body, I will never be able to exercise the right to life and death.However, in the vast universe, what can still be my own?Since I have knowledge, I have been studying, getting a job, marrying a wife, and starting a family. I am tired!As a result of labor, one can only care about today, and only care about today's present.It hurts already!Why do you say that?Please prove it.I heard that a certain novelist wrote his essays with less than half a page of paper, and died at his desk. His death is already imminent.It was also heard that a certain old lady played a sparrow game, which was about to make a great harmony, her face overflowed with joy, a stroke came out in the same seat, and she was blocked by her superiors to make peace, a certain lady was furious, and her death was even faster.Before a certain novelist writes the last page, how can he know that it will not end?A certain lady had just had a stroke, and the family hadn't stopped the reconciliation for a moment, but she knew that her life would be over soon?Husband!Isn't life like this one of the mysterious and elusive tragedies?I knew this matter a long time ago, and I dare not think about it less, otherwise I will not be at peace for a moment, but I am afraid that the god of death will be by my side.Why forget it?It's just a matter of being Zhuangzi.The ancients said not to do useless things, but to send those who have a limit to live.

My writing is also the first time I have thought about it, thinking that I write novels, how can I make people want to read my books?Then I think about it further, how can it be beneficial for people to read my novels?Thinking about it so far, why bother?Readers, after finishing their work, after tea and drinking, or feel bored, or happen to come here by chance, read it briefly to kill a moment of their time.And what my book says may not trap readers into injustice, it is enough.I don't dare to talk about doctrine, and I don't dare to talk about articles. When I write novels, people can read them without denying that they are novels, and I have completed my mission.Now someone accuses me of being shallow, and I am happy to think that it is shallow. Now someone accuses me of being boring, and I am happy to think it is boring.Gai novels are popular texts, and writing for this purpose is unavoidably shallow and boring; Huaguo essays, deep mountain masterpieces, there are others here, and I dare not know.Mrs. Ming, is there anything wrong with this?What is the meaning of this order?Don't ask any questions.Some people said: This is quite like a way to take a path, but it can be called a new dream of Red Mansions.I said: Weiwei.Another person said: This seems to be abbreviated as an abbreviation of the situation of countless wealthy families in modern times.I said again: Weiwei.The benevolent sees benevolence, the wise sees wisdom, who can make it the same?Just listen to it, why should I argue?

There are 800,000 words in this book, and I write five or six hundred words every day, from the beginning to the end, which takes about six years.When I first wrote the book, my eldest daughter comforted my son, and she was able to learn the language babbling, and then I was able to do it, I was able to speak everything, and I was able to go to school. After two years of school, my book was finished.This is not only that the people in the book should have their own joys and sorrows, but after I finished writing the book, I couldn't help but sigh: "Trees are like this."However, at the end of my book, my youngest daughter, Kang Erfang, died, and I was so sad that I accidentally inserted a random essay into the text, thinking that I was enough to commemorate my son.It was less than twenty days, and the eldest daughter, Weier, also followed her younger sister underground.When I wrote the ending, I felt sad, but when I wrote the preface, I felt even more sad.Today, Wei'er also died for more than ten days. It is expected that this book will be published, and the tomb of the child will be as deep as a foot.When I write every day, when comforting children come to the case to ask for fruit and bait money, I often peep and say: "Don't disturb the father, the father will do it." Where is my son?Husband!Life is unpredictable, that's probably the case.Recalling that when I was sixteen or seventeen years old, I read books by celebrities, deeply admired Xu Xiake as a man, and vowed to travel to famous mountains and rivers.When he was twenty-five or six years old, he loved poetry and chapters, and wanted to read and grow vegetables, but he was as rich as Yuan Mei's gardening and small warehouse, or as poor as Tao Qian's door planting five willows.Since the age of thirty, he has been taught by people in the society, hoping to be a wandering monk with a stick and a bowl.Gu sometimes loves his children very much, but often forgets about it.Now that my son is dead, I deeply feel that life is nothing more than this, what is wealth for?What is fame and fortune for?The thought of being a monk is deeply nourishing.This is a novel based on my thoughts, so it starts like this and ends like this.

Husband, this book is just an ampoule-covered thing, but after a few years, there may still be some left. At that time, readers will pick it up and read it, so I am in the ancient temple in the deep forest?Is it between famous mountains and great rivers?Still ask me how many rooms are clean in the bright window?Or even ask me to be in the wild smoke and weeds?Life is impermanent, how can I know?The book is like this, the preface is like this, the future of people is unpredictable.This point of emotion, expanded and supplemented, from the beginning to the end, is easy to write about the author.The saying goes: "If you read a book, don't you know who it is?" Although the novel is trivial, it is no exception.To ask readers to know me is to ask readers to know me.This is my preface, and I only describe my fragmentary thoughts.All gentlemen, if you advance in the right way, I will be happy to worship and accept it.Or speaking outside of novels, I dare not know.At this point in the book, the scorching sun is in the sky, and the shade of locust trees is everywhere, and the steamed cake seller in Yongxiang is yelling past.The same noon, the same shade of locust trees, the same book case, the same yelling of steamed cake sellers, but the days are running out, and my son will never show his voice and smile.Husband!Isn't life and the universe a mysterious and elusive tragedy?

1932.6.18 Preface by Zhang Henshui in Beijing