The geese have left a voice, and the people have left a name. If I, as a storyteller, can bring some joy and tears to the listeners, it will be worth the pain.

This article is written for me and you who are working hard, and I have written about us who are working hard for our dreams.

Last year, I published my first full-length novel online. Although the number of hits and red tickets for this novel is a bit unsatisfactory, the only thing I am happy about is that I finished it. It's a complete story, with its own characters and emotions.

At that time, I was using a different pen name, and I was pretending to be another person - and it wasn't until that person had been gone for a long time that I realized that I had lost something very important. If I had to use one word to describe this feeling, it would be "love".

Yes, I'm often used to simulating the love-hate relationship between a character in a novel, thinking about what I would do if I were him or her. But this is only the "if", and when it is really my turn, I am a little overwhelmed.

The greatest turmoil in this life comes from inner turmoil. What happened to the past, it cannot be recovered; What the future holds can only be imagined. Just like two years ago, I never imagined that I would write a text in a city that I didn't care about before.

Nature is already cool, but empty and vicissitudes. I've asked what we're going to be like in the future, but no one can give me a complete answer. When you are in middle and high school, there are teachers who will tell you that you are free when you are admitted to university. But what about after freedom?

Throughout our lives, we are always looking for answers. But the trajectory of life is different, and the answer is destined to be ever-changing. Someone can tell you the correct answer to a math problem, but no one can tell you the path ahead and how to go forward. Although he has not officially entered the society, his mood seems to be the rest of his life.

Actually, the really difficult thing is the choice. For example, I can choose to face the computer in the middle of the night, tirelessly coding words; You can also choose to go to bed early and get some sleep to relieve your worries. But I'd rather wander in the middle of the night, like a ghost, with my own insignificant words, to tell the stories that whisper in my head.

Everyone has a heroic dream in their hearts, whether it is an ignorant teenager, a middle-aged man who is tired of work, or a twilight year at sunset. The hidden nature of wanting to be valued and cared for is the source of this emotion.

In the beginning, everyone thought that they were unique beings in the world. When they make promises, they think of themselves as omnipotent.

But when you actually do it, you will find that you are so small. Even when you think you've done something amazing, it may be just a joke in the eyes of others. At this time, when there is a slight change in the surrounding personnel, it feels like the sky is falling. In fact, when you actually do it, you will find out that it is not a big deal.

The writers at the bottom, the things they worked so hard to write, are really not worth a few dollars. If you are diligent, you can get a full attendance award every month for 3,000 or 5,000 words, which is enough for two bottles of two pots and a few stacks of peanuts. This is not to blame on the website, because every website has to think about its own profitability; I don't blame the reader, whether to read or not is people's freedom; I don't blame myself - unless I didn't make an effort.

But I just want to write something, I want to express something through the mouth of an illusory character. When writing novels, I always fantasize that I am the creator, and under the keyboard, what is typed out is not pale words, but flesh-and-blood characters. In the illusory world, only feelings are real.

If you like this novel, please leave a message and give some encouragement; If you don't like it, just laugh it off. Meeting is fate, after passing by, the wind is light.

If after many years, when I remember some words or a certain fragment in the book, I will suddenly be so slightly moved, and it will not be in vain.

Written on the night of July 7, 2015, to myself and to my colleagues who, like me, silently typed in front of the flickering screen.

For the dream that has not yet rested, come on.

Good night, all over the world.