Liu Zhizi
Liu Zhizi's message
Foreword: The people at the association asked me to write something myself. I don't really have anything worth sharing, but I couldn't refuse, so I've reluctantly dug up an essay I wrote two or three years ago for everyone to take a look at. I just hope those who read it won't laugh at me. Thanks in advance. Last night, I had a dream. I dreamed that on a morning after rain in winter, a boy was hiding behind a crack in the door, holding a straw rope, trying to trap the little sparrows pecking for food under a winnowing basket in the yard. When I saw all this, he was already on the verge of completely losing confidence, because—he hadn't caught a single one. So I went up and taught him how to scatter bait, how to prop up the basket, how to wait patiently, and once they had all walked into the trap, to pull the rope and bring down the basket. Every move and gesture was so focused. But suddenly, I realized that the boy seemed to be me as a child—as if ten or twenty years ago, my father had been teaching me to catch birds in just the same way. The same scene, as if from a previous life. When I woke up, I was almost in tears. The scene was similar, but the people had changed. How could I ever relive the joy of days gone by? Perhaps there will be more in the days to come? Thinking of those who love me, shouldn't I love those I love twice as much? None of us is immortal. A single moment of hesitation, and we may never be able to make it up for the rest of our lives. Isn't that so? Who can go back to age seven or eight and love their parents? Who can go back to sixteen and love the person sitting next to them in class? And who can go back to twenty and love the campus beauty? But still, I sit alone in my dorm room, numbing myself with a mouse. What tomorrow will bring, I don't know. Now, I can no longer maintain a serene calm. Because I am a lonely person, a temporarily dormant volcano. Perhaps it has a heart-shaped lake as clear as could be, perhaps it still has lush green forests, but beneath the peaceful peaks, there is a surging heat. Perhaps heaven gave me no few opportunities, but I did not cherish them. Life is sometimes full of twists of fate. I missed a moment, and I may have missed a lifetime. Tell me, after we are both old, who will still be able to accompany us as we travel everywhere?