Preface

To be honest, I never used to take notes. I believed that since one cannot return to the past, there is no need to reflect on previous days, making note-taking a meaningless endeavor.

Regarding certain matters in the notes, you may consider them to be mere fables. However, I must state that what is recorded below is all factual. Our reluctance to believe stems from the fact that sometimes the truth appears to be so gruesome!

Do not ask me which year, month, or day it was regarding the events of the * picture * book, as I have lost all sense of time. It seems like a long time ago, yet it also feels like it just happened yesterday. Therefore, I will simply continue writing in a chapter-by-chapter manner.

It was only after certain events occurred, or rather, when I was changed by certain experiences, that I developed the habit of taking notes

Thus, I took up my pen to write to another version of myself. Only in this way does my heart find a moment of tranquility.

Both the images and the text serve as a narrative, naturally imbued with elements of reminiscence. Consequently, some events are, in fact, recollections I later inscribed. Throughout the writing process, I was enveloped in an unmistakable sense of compassion and anguish, akin to placing oneself within a black hole, gradually being drained by an immense, invisible yet palpably existent gravitational force. I am uncertain whether to label those experiences as significant events, for while they may be shocking, in the grand scheme of time's passage, they are merely trivial existences, destined to be forgotten, submerged in the river of history. Now, I am particularly afraid of forgetting the past, afraid of losing myself.

All along, there has been a voice anxiously shouting: "You must give me an explanation!" This voice is sometimes male, sometimes female, resembling that of a plateau, that of Liu Yan, and even more like that of Chen Juan from the library, or perhaps it comes from those famous and unknown individuals I have encountered, fresh and decayed, from mouths that seem to have long lost the ability to move! But in the end, I discovered that it was actually my own voice shouting, for it was another part of me, in some hidden corner, restlessly insisting: "You must give yourself an explanation!" Perhaps it still comes from those famous and unknown individuals I have encountered, fresh and decayed, from mouths that seem to have long lost the ability to move! But in the end, I discovered that it was actually my own voice shouting, for it was another part of me, in some hidden corner, restlessly insisting: "You must give yourself an explanation!"

To speak frankly, I believe that taking notes is an act of exposing oneself in the dark. If hetushu.com were to be accidentally lost, it would be akin to someone suddenly turning on the lights while one is undressed, revealing certain privacy that one has become accustomed to concealing

The flowers of the forest have withered in the spring red, how fleeting! These few words occasionally leap into my mind, striking at my sensitive nerves. I unexpectedly remember Liu Yan's expression when she recited this line of poetry by Li Yu: cold, enchanting, sorrowful... Thus, throughout the process of writing, I remained enveloped in a profound atmosphere of coldness, enchantment, and sorrow! Perhaps, I am writing this for her again!