Chapter 5 Preface: To the love that makes me forget to eat and sleep

I first wrote on this topic when I was about to publish my first book.At that time, I still fully knew whether I was still so obsessed with novels after many years, whether I was still writing novels, and whether I could continue to publish my own novels.I didn't know what happened after that, but after finishing the whole content of the first book, I was suddenly very excited.On that thunderstorm summer evening, in a tropical country, I wrote this title.I know I want to pour out, to tell my readers what joy I have had in writing this book, and how much I love them, those little hands and feet that automatically grow out when they are done, equipped with thoughts and eyes my novel.But I couldn't finish that preface, because I tried to use the most elegant and beautiful words to describe the novels, to describe the love I exchanged with them, but the sentences I wrote always felt that they couldn't match the extraordinary nobleness of me. friendship with novels.It's like devout believers who can't sing hymns well.So I gave up dejectedly, but I always wanted to let you know that there is so much love, they are bound together with the novels, no, it should be said to be grafted, and finally they grow into a plant, like a sweet and unusual The red Fuji apple looks so perfect and beautiful.

And this time, at the beginning of the book, I wrote the name again.I want to try again, and slowly tell you about this kind of entanglement with me, my writing, and the love scattered in my novels, my dear readers. In my recent writing, I live in a small apartment at the foot of a mountain, where there are many bamboos and wild cats outside, and the singing of birds in the early morning is also very prosperous.When I moved in, I liked it very much, because I thought that I could go out for a walk at night and feed the kittens with dried fish.But in fact, I often don't leave the house for two or three days. The food in the refrigerator has been eaten up, but I still refuse to go out to buy it.It is about ten meters from the bed to the bathroom, and about fifteen meters from the bed to the computer on the desk.I just move within the distance of twenty-five meters.When you get tired of writing, go to bed. There are plenty of books and magazines beside the bed, as well as eye drops to relieve tiredness.Apart from answering a few phone calls, I didn't have to speak throughout the day, and gradually fell into a state of aphasia.Going to bed at four o'clock in the morning has become my regular habit. At that time, the sky is already very white, and I will feel that everything is clean, clear and quiet again, like a young mother singing softly, so I will go to sleep with peace of mind. And sleep doesn't last long, because after the sky is bright, I will feel that the city is a different person, it is a man panting and walking with big strides, so I will feel bumpy and uneasy.It was 8:30 when I woke up again. I went back to the computer and opened the document first to see if the words I wrote last night that excited me were still there.

In fact, I don't like this autistic state, and I was even afraid of it.I wrote about claustrophobic kids, which was a bit like me, because in my shared life abroad, I kept the door of my room closed.It's not that I'm worried about being disturbed, it's just that I don't like the feeling that everything about me is under the eyes of others.So at those times, when I was in a small room with the door closed and the air circulation was not very smooth, I sometimes felt stuffy, and I always had to go to the window sill to see the swimming pool under the 19th floor to feel comfortable.The claustrophobic child, with one final leap, flew out the window like a vault.She'll get a flight, free, with nothing holding her back.It's an extreme high, I know, but I don't like it very much, and I hope to find such a high elsewhere.Later I discovered that writing can give me something when I bury myself in it, so when I really enter the Chinese character studio, I will no longer be afraid of the narrow space, all kinds of barriers and siege.

I also don't like aphasia, because in my daily life, there should be one or several very valuable chats and exchanges, which are very important to me.Looking into the eyes of a communicator I like, listening to him (her) explain and talk in a unique way, in my opinion, is one of the most beautiful things in the world.But if you are immersed in writing, this is no longer important.Because you can talk to the novel, it is words, please believe me, it is a small circus, you put clever monkeys, clumsy elephants and sad sika deer in it.This is your protagonist, they are still small, they need your domestication, you need to lead them and guide them to grow.This job is very honorable, you are the head of the circus, you are the animal trainer, you are the reshaper and friend of the animals.I often feel that the characters in my novels probably exist, and they appear in various guest roles in other stories.When I heard or passed those stories, I noticed them.So later, when they were resting, I collected them one by one. There may also be a process of brainwashing in the middle, in order to let them enter the new role wholeheartedly.They will grow up in new roles, from weak and ignorant, and finally grow into a full-fledged adult.During this time, we have been talking and chatting, because this will fill them with thoughts and prop up these deflated little people.The dialogue is also two-sided, and they will tell me some of their feelings, which allows me to know what kind of character they have become. Many times, I find that they already have a strong sense of direction , I can't follow the path I arranged first.How amazing, this is a simple Chinese character studio, this is a circus with costumed performances, and this is the growth record of many little people.

So these novels, they are my treasures, they are small groups, small clubs that I lived with for a while.Now when I put them in order in the new book, I think of my childhood when I put my dolls under the sunny sky, sitting in rows and eating fruit.Yes, I love them so much, I care if their hair is messed up, if a sock is missing, who did the stain on their dress...they all just sit there without moving, the whole time, and yet But I feel that love is constantly pouring in, like a tide, but it is warm and breathing. Many arms embrace me, and the strength and enthusiasm become a gorgeous hot air balloon, holding the Me, I'm going to fly.I feel the same way now, my dear novels are holding me up, they are all mine, with my name engraved in the palms, I feel it all the time.

Tell me about this novel.This book is ten stories about love, hence the name.I didn't use the name of any one of the novels as the name of this collection, because they are equal, and they are equally important in my heart.Regarding the ten stories themselves, I think they will be very different from my previous short stories.They will be more intense, and there will be sounds of bleeding, tearing, snapping, and crushing.This is a violent love, moving so violently, like a pulse that keeps bouncing that you can't hold at all, and you don't know how to comfort it, how to calm it down.But I like to see its posture, just like I have always liked the process of the daughter of the sea jumping into the sea and immediately turning into foam, then bursting and disappearing without a trace.It's not violence, I think, they're explosions of love, transformations of love energy.There was so much killing and death that it seemed to come suddenly, like a typhoon or an earthquake.However, the rest of the people who arrived in Tranquility became soft, lazy, and drowsy, so they forgot their sorrow and mourning, and they forgot that there might still be dangers and disasters coming slowly like waves behind them.They lived their lives almost at a standstill with a dull expression, as if death had frightened their heads.And the dead people are on their way, like a second hand with time on its tip, ticking past, disappearing in a blink of an eye.Don't worry, they probably just went to other stories and put on a sensual show there.So dear readers, please don't worry, those deaths and killings happened, maybe I just opened a door for them secretly, they can go to other time spaces and stories, maybe it's better than in the scene where there is no room for return struggling and suffering.

The relationship between love and people may be like a whip and a spinning top that is whipped up. It makes it move, but it also makes it hurt.Don't look at it hurting there, you have to close your eyes like me, just quietly listen to the whistling wind, that is the whip and top singing together.