"This is a real story. "Black fakes," the young man said with some emotion as he looked at the snow falling outside the window.

"What's the story?" Joan of Arc behind him asked as she walked over to the boy and hesitated.

"Do you want to know?"

"You've already mentioned it, don't you just want someone to talk to?" Joan of Arc laughed.

"Sometimes girls don't have to be too smart. The boy smiled wryly: "That's when I was still an individual as a 'human'. ”

The story kicked off.

Snow......

That's right, it's snow.

Snow has been falling since the day I arrived.

What am I doing here?

When did it begin to be a lonely place to stay here, in this world, in this lonely world where no one exists, the seasons are constantly changing.

I kept walking, looking for where I belonged.

One day, I came to this promised place

I understand something.

There was a wooden hut and there was no one inside. Only one table can be seen.

I know, this is my home from now on.

I gazed, distant world.

In the early morning, the light over the bare mountains in the distance poured into the house, and I sat blankly on the edge of the corridor outside.

Subtilis.

Barren land.

Rolling hills.

It's everything in this lonely world.

Sometimes, I go out for a walk, walking without a purpose. Like a lonely king, ruling this cold world and the only people of this world.

If I am a new being, looking for a place to be born, then I must not choose this world.

I'm not afraid of the world, I've noticed it from a very early age.

Because, I came here of my own free will.

At night, the world becomes more lonely, there is no starlight in the sky, and a curtain of darkness covers the world, except for one place.

In the overgrown open space behind the house, countless streamers are flying, and I often squat in the grass, intoxicated by this time full of life.

And so it was, day after day, year after year. From dawn to night, from dusk to dawn, my short black hair grew longer, and my long white dress became shorter. This is the only trace of the passage of time.

I have a home, but I don't feel at home.

"Home?"

A familiar and unfamiliar word, I don't know why I care so much, maybe there is a world full of warmth on the other side of the world, where I once lived, a world that truly has "home".

That's what I believe in.

I'm so happy these days that a light has made me feel a wonderful sensation in the meadow where the streamers are flying.

Warm.

Confused.

Serene.

Whenever I came at night, it left its companion and flew to my side.

I sat down, and it made small circles around my slender body. I held out my hands, and it stopped in the void above.

A warm current filled my heart, and I held it, and it remained in the palm of my hand silently.

I lay on the grass and fell asleep with it in my arms.

That night, I had my first dream, a heartwarming dream. It is a warm dream that belongs only to me in this world.

I took it back to the house.

At dawn, the light shines through the windows and on the walls. Its shiny figure began to disappear into the void, and I reached out to it, but I didn't touch it, but passed through it.

I retracted my hand and shook it from side to side a few times.

Couldn't reach it, and then I walked away from it.

After that, I would often stay in the house and stare at that little light.

Between me and it, we couldn't communicate with each other's consciousness. So I could only stare at it, without getting tired of it.

I decided what I was going to do. I left the light alone, left the hut, and climbed over the hills to the edge of the barren plain.

The plains are large and small, all kinds of garbage, all of which are inexplicable things that can only be called garbage.

This garbage is scattered all over the land, some of it rolls among the dry grass, and some is buried in the soil on the surface.

They are the wreckage of light, the wreckage of many, the wreckage of all kinds.

I picked a few and carried them back to the hut.

Then come again to the garbage mountain.

I don't know how long it took to move back to the hut with more and more garbage.

I began to get tired, and I sat down on a meadow, and in the grass not far away, several small beasts were gnawing and munching on the flowers and plants that grew on the ground without the slightest emotion.

Their soft white fur, two curved horns, and a pair of ears on either side of them are among other creatures in such a world. I stood up and approached the little beasts, they were not afraid, nor did they want to be close to people. They don't seem to have me in their eyes at all, but even so, I love them.

I picked one of them up and stroked my head and belly.

At dusk, I lowered the little beast in my arms to the ground.

Without looking back, the little beast ran towards the herd of beasts on the hills in the distance.

I understand that they don't have a "heart". They just exist here.

Neither get close to people, nor feel sorry for parting.

But even so, they are the only creatures in this world besides me.

After that, I collected enough garbage and spent a long, long time piecing it all together.

I don't know how many days passed, and I stayed tirelessly in the hut to put it together.

What could that be?

I do not know. I'm going to make a container for the heart, so that I can touch its body.

Eventually, a doll appeared in front of my eyes, half my height.

I know, that's what I want. It is the shape of the warm memories that remain in the depths: small journeys, tattered little robots, painful memories that have disappeared in Huadian.

I stood up proudly and stared at it in the void in the corner. I smiled lightly.

Stretched out my hand, my scarred hand.

The doll began to move, and it took my hand, the only warmth in this world.

Finally, I began to pursue its warmth.

I'm right in front of it. It stared at the ground and turned its "head".

I stretched out my hand, and it also reached out its "hand" to me, and our hands were clasped together.

Although its hand has no temperature, I understand that I am holding its hand and seeking a piece of warmth in my heart.

At the same time, I am also aware of it. I was born into this world, and I became a part of this world, in order to fulfill a wish, giving up all the happiness that would have been achieved in the new world.

It's a sad world.

However, it brings me the warmth of home.

I took its hand, helped it to its feet, and took a few steps back. After that, I clapped my hands in front of me and motioned for it to come over.

It strode towards me.

I think it needs to practice walking, it's like a newborn baby.

Memories precipitate together.

I seem to recall the familiar scene, except that I am the puppet in front of me, and it is the me in front of me.

I clapped my hands, and it struggled to come over and fall forward again and again.

I don't get bored, I pick it up again and again.

I don't know how many times it was repeated, and finally it came to me.

I hugged its diminutive body, "Well done." ”

I said.

These were the first words I said when I came into this world.

I have almost forgotten this privilege that belongs only to "people".

Warmth, just like the light that once held it in its arms. This is the only warmth in this world, and it is the warmth of the family that I have been pursuing.

Even though its garbage-made body was so cold.

It looked up at me, paused for a moment, and then turned its "face" in the direction of the window.

It was a window that was shrouded in backlight at all times, and it seemed to want to see the world outside. I want to use the body I made for it to "see" the end of this world.