Chapter 26 postscript

Around my neck for a few years now is a crucifix of the Crucifixion, the cheapest thing you can buy in a Catholic store (only a few bucks).After wearing it for a long time, the wood has become dark because of absorbing too much sweat, and the Christ statue on it has also turned black.The rope was replaced three times because it broke. Unfamiliar friends will inevitably ask: "Are you a believer?" Usually I just smile and shake my head without explaining much. Regarding the existence of God, I think I probably belong to the "agnostic"; I don't care whether the story of Jesus is true or not.

The crucifixion of Christ, to me, is just a symbol: a belief that the spirit can overcome the flesh. Of course, I understand the principle of "sufficiency in food and clothing, honor and disgrace" - if you tell a hungry African poor that "the spirit can overcome the body", he will only think it is a cruel joke.But when people have already been fed and warmed, all they think about is more full and warm, which is another joke. What's more, most of the poverty in today's world is man-made.Lacking the spirit of fairness and compassion, and continuing to simply quantify everything on the earth, poverty, it seems, will continue.

That night, I wrote down the date of the day in my notebook, and wrote: "Long Bai died." I certainly don't really think of the characters in my novels as friends - although many of them do have shadows of myself or people I know.Long Bai is not a character I particularly like, but a character who has existed in my writing life for more than ten years (in retrospect, when I first wrote about him, I was still a student), suddenly I want to "kill him" Death", I always have a strange feeling in my heart.I can't say it's sad or a pity, it seems a little bit sad, but I have no regrets.

Time, some say it can make people forget.But I think it's just the opposite: time makes everything precipitate, so thick that it can't be melted away. I have been a person who is not willing to part with anything since I was a child (I don't want to use such a heavy word "nostalgia").Other children are always happy to get new schoolbags, but I am always reluctant to throw away the old ones and still receive them in a corner.In the end, it was quietly thrown away by the mother. To this day, my mother still complains that I refuse to throw away things (especially books), which fill the room.

"Everything can't be taken away", this is indeed a word of wisdom.But as a mortal, as long as he is alive, he always hopes to keep what he can. Although life is bound to continue to lose.Lost object.lose people. This book is dedicated only to my father who passed away a year ago. Qiao Jingfu November 22, 2005