In the blink of an eye, the end of the year has arrived.

They all went back to their hometowns, and only me and Tai were left here, and the city was suddenly empty, with few pedestrians on the streets.

"What are your plans after the year?" I asked Thai.

"I may have to go back to Wuhan, there is no development here." He said.

Yes, it is indeed easy to lose morale in this overly comfortable city, and this place is more suitable for old ageing.

The streets were filled with smoke, and the sound of firecrackers was startled by the barking of homeless stray dogs.

At that moment, I thought that I was not as good as the dog, that I had a home, but I didn't want to go back.

In previous years, the Chinese New Year's Eve dinner was also relatively stable and harmonious, but now, every bite of food eaten while sitting at the dinner table is humiliating.

I endured my father's endless metaphors, and after eating a few dumplings, I couldn't eat them anymore.

A few days ago, I had already serialized the comic I drew on the Internet.

Sadly, it didn't make waves as I thought. It is just a speck of dust floating into the vast ocean, and no one cares what it looks like, and no one is interested in exploring it.

The dream I had built with my own hands began to crumble, and I could no longer use it to deceive myself.

For a moment I was almost overwhelmed by depression and decadent.

The dark seeds in my heart began to sprout, and my body was almost filled with explosives, for fear that a careless person would be ignited, collapse and explode, and hastily end this life of inaction.

Before going back, Wu Liang asked me why I didn't find a job that suited me and worked hard.

I said, "It's just that the path I chose is dark, and no one believes that I can get out."

Now, even I am beginning to doubt myself, but there is still an unwilling flame flickering in my heart, and I still want to endure the pain and struggle.

In the time of self-contradiction, the days went by, and my hair grew day by day.

It was a fuse that ignited the gunpowder that had been hoarded between me and my father for a long time.

He watched me every day and every night, watching my every move.

I lived cautiously, but this time the "handle" he grabbed was the only carrier of my freedom.

My hair.

It represents the independence of my free personality, the right to make it longer and shorter according to my preference, and it represents that I am an independent individual who has the freedom to dispose of my own body sovereignty.

It was my last struggle, and I was so radical that I wouldn't back down with red eyes.

"You cut me with a knife, and I won't cut it!" I was shirtless, fighting and yelling.

I went downstairs, shorts and slippers, and sat under an old tree not far from my home, letting the mosquitoes bite.

I'm already disheartened with this life.

It is better to leave and go to a place where no one knows to be alone than to be under control and do nothing. I think so.

Hiding from everyone, I booked a ticket to leave here and go 1,500 kilometers away from here.

My mother didn't notice it the day I left, and I remember the smile she had on me, and the sorrow came over me all at once.

I don't know how her heart hurts afterwards, I feel sad, I feel that I can't repay her for what she has done to me, and I am sorry for her.

But I couldn't stand living with someone like my father.

I dragged my luggage to the train station, I would be shaken, but I would not go back. Because I know that if I turn back, the dying warrior who is still fighting for freedom in the deepest part of my heart will die completely.

At the entrance of the train station, there is a small shop selling noodle soup.

I walked in and ordered a bowl of noodle soup that I was all too familiar with.

The soup flowed into my mouth, and the last sip of soup I drank before leaving the city tasted the same as the first sip I had when I first came to the city.

Familiar feelings, memories, and a part of my life in the city were drunk into my stomach with the soup.

I felt like tears were whirling, but they weren't coming out.

I remembered what Tian Qianqian told me: you should keep drawing.

I didn't even believe in myself anymore, and along the way, no one looked at the dream I was holding onto.

It was a simple sentence, but it saved my hope.

The train slowly stopped in front of me with the wind that stirred my long hair.

I stepped on the departing train without saying goodbye to anyone.