(a)

The night we arrived at the camp, there was a snowstorm.

The wind howled outside the window all night. But none of us heard it.

The two men fell asleep because they had drunk and talked too late. After chatting with them, I went back to my room and finished writing the first shot of "Taiping" on the computer.

There isn't a lot of text, however, I don't write smoothly. Memories and pain poured in from the depths of my consciousness, clogging my thoughts and my throat.

I kept writing sentence by sentence, like trekking barefoot on a thorny road.

I was fully immersed in the past years of Baojing Lake. I don't feel the current plane at all.

After writing the last line, I collapsed on my pillow exhausted, and immediately fell into the deep darkness of dreamlessness.

When I woke up the next morning, I found it dark outside the window, but there was a silver moonlight all over the ground.

Then I realized that it wasn't moonlight, but the reflection of freshly falling snow.

Through the windowpanes covered with ice flowers, we saw that a large pile of snow had accumulated in front of the cabin, and in the sunlight, it was crystal clear, like a swan's breast.

It snowed overnight and the door of the holiday home was completely blocked by snow.

The men finally opened the door, climbed outside, and then took out their shovels from the storeroom, and began to clear the fluffy snow and the heavy ice that had accumulated under the snow, and it took half an hour to barely clear a passage.

This is how we started our holiday life at the camp.

(b)

The days when it was cold and freezing were really the golden moment of writing.

At this time, all desires freeze and freeze with the heavy snow and the cooling. The scope of activity is so narrow, there is no way to go, and no ideas can be realized. I can only stay in the wooden house every day, except for chatting with each other and drinking tea, writing is the only optional mental activity.

During that time, my writing was still difficult and difficult, but I made new progress every day.

I couldn't write in the normal order, I wrote the scenes that came to my mind as I pleased, jumping back and forth in no order through all the chapters.

I wrote about the moment I saw the picture of the monument without subtitles on the plane, the night I was locked in my little building waiting to be married, I wrote about the sound of horses' hooves when you came to visit our newlyweds, I wrote about the arms that stretched out to me on the cliff, I wrote about the moment I saw your bones in the museum but had to leave with hatred, and I wrote about the bullet I didn't miss.

I know that everything is disorganized and fragmented. But I also know that as long as I persist in this way, one day, the ice of pain will be broken, and a large number of words that have been accumulated in my heart for many years will break through the ice and flow out like the tide of spring. When the spring tide is strong and devastating, the order of the words and the order of the writing will naturally appear.

The most important thing now is to keep writing, keep writing, and don't stop.

I sat in front of the screen for a long time, unable to move.

I often burst into tears.

I don't want to open the door to talk to people, I don't want to go out to eat.

As I delved deeper and deeper into the world of the past, I became more and more eager to close myself off and be completely cut off from this real world.

The feeling of the mind and body existing in two planes at the same time is very painful.

It's like being separated from head to toe with a long saw.

People who haven't experienced it like this can't experience it.

I was awakened from my trance by the sound of a gentle knock on the door. It took me a few minutes to return to the current plane, find my identity, and remember what I should do.

I stood up and opened the door to see Mr. Yichen standing in front of the door with a teapot and a wooden plate.

He said, "You never came out in the morning, and you didn't eat breakfast. I was afraid that you were writing something, and I didn't want us to bother, so I didn't alarm you. It's almost noon now. Would you like to eat two slices of bread? We roasted you a little in the stove. Crunchy. It's the type you like to eat. It's butter and jam. This is a peach-flavored black tea that you like to drink. The tea is lukewarm with a small glass of milk. Drink it now, just right. ”

I mechanically took the teapot and wooden plate from Yi Chen's hand. I smelled the wheat smell of the bread and realized that I was already hungry.

I bowed my head and said, "Thank you." ”

Yi Chen patted me on the shoulder and said, "We are all writers of things. I know how you feel. Writing truthfully about the most painful things in life is never easy. Sometimes, we feel like the road is not going to go and we retreat back. ”

I looked at Yichen with tears in my eyes.

"It doesn't matter," he said. When we are full of strength, we can try again. Eat these, and you'll feel a little warmer and more empowered. ”

(c)

I handed the printed manuscript to Mr. Yichen.

He took the manuscript and said, "Can I read it?" ”

I nodded silently.

He looked down at what I had written. I saw him turn a page, then another page, then a third page. He looked very seriously.

I said, "No head or tail, right?" ”

He looked at me.

I said, "Incoherent, huh?" ”

He said, "Heart, who would laugh at the ungraceful gait of a toddler? ”

He said, "You obviously won't, and neither will I." People, in general, don't. More important than the gait is that the baby is struggling to walk on his own feet. ”

He said to me, "The first few steps you take to get up from your pain are the same as the first steps of a baby. ”

"You're already writing, you're continuing to write, and that's the most important thing," he said. ”

"You're doing a great job," he said. I asked myself if I had such memories and experiences, and if I had such experiences, I might not be able to do this at this age like you. ”

Without Yichen's encouragement, I don't know if I will give up halfway again this time, and whether I can finally persevere to the end.

In the end, the book was finally able to be written in its current complete form, and many mentors and friends contributed to it. Among them, the most critical role in encouragement is Yichen.

It can be said that without his encouragement, this book would never have been born into this world.

(iv)

After hours of typing on the keyboard, I would sometimes stop and look out the window to adjust my blurred vision.

Suddenly, I noticed that before I knew it, the weather was slowly warming up. The sunlight was no longer morbidly white, but became dazzling. The sun is also a little higher in the sky than it was when we came.

The ice on the ground under the window was still hard, but the warm sunlight shone for a while, and the ice picks hanging on the eaves slowly dripped water.

Every drop of water makes a ticking sound as it hits the ground.

Its life from formation to landing is only a moment's work.

This rhythmic ticking sound pours out their confusion and helplessness between life and death.

It's like all our human words.