About a passage written by Guo Jingming! (It seems to be from "Reflection on the Left Hand, Time on the Right")

I miss you in the past, I miss the seventeen-year-old I left on my bicycle, I miss the wind that was stirred up by your smile, mixed with joy and sorrow, and the yesterday that will never come back again. Traveling mightily through my thin youth. bright. sad. Endless.

——Inscription

1

The reflection in the left hand, the years in the right hand. Who can believe this is the name of a book I wanted to publish over a year ago. At that time, I was in the third year of high school. In a simple but almost cruel time, in a posture of looking up and lowering my head, thinking about the inaccessible but extremely real future, I was thinking about that summer when I couldn't see the whole sun. of university. I'm thinking that I should summarize my time, reminisce, be sentimental, and then start my new journey with a smile.

2

Someone asked me why I could see your sad and clear writing when you were a sophomore in high school, and your sometimes gorgeous and sometimes simple language in your freshman year, but I couldn’t see it. Regarding what you wrote when you were in your senior year of high school, I want to see how you feel at a crossroads that everyone must pass through.

In fact, I wrote the words in this book very early. When I wrote these words, I felt more desperate than ever. Maybe some people say that my sadness is clear, with a tension that makes people want to look up, and with a hope that makes people not want to give up. I think maybe they haven't seen the words I wrote in my senior year of high school, so desperate and broken. With a hurt expression on my face, I slashed and dodged like a stubborn animal.

Hiding in a certain time, missing the palm prints of a certain period of time.

Hiding in a certain place, missing someone who stands on the way to and from, the person who makes me care.

3

I always think that I like writing prose, so much. In fact, I like to stand on a cliff, and then look at the luxurious and bright youth at my feet, and burst into tears.

I don’t know if I am a good record-keeper, but I like to look back on the path I came from more than anyone else. I took the trouble to look back and saw that I was in a good position. Then time abandoned me and ran forward vigorously.

I have been writing novels recently, both published and unpublished. I have been making up other people's fates. I hid in their ups and downs, making up their stories and shedding my own tears. Those vivid people always appear in my mind. Day by day, night by night, they look at me smiling, sad, and finally look at me raising my hands to kill them.

4

I was reading a magazine that day and saw a student saying that she had finally changed from a freshman in high school to a sophomore in high school. She said that after school started, she would compete with the new junior students. The seats in the cafeteria, watching them walk in the school full of freshness, watching them carve their childish names on the school trees, watching them, feeling sentimental about their aging.

When I read this passage, my heart suddenly felt very painful. I suddenly missed my middle school thousands of kilometers away like never before. Very few people know about it. It is not as famous as Beijing No. 4 Middle School Huanggang Middle School. Even the reference books we made in our senior year of high school will have their names. My school is very simple. I have laughed and made trouble in it, and I have experienced scenery and sadness. I shed tears before. Been there and left.

I left behind my meager youth there, leaving behind the days when I was riding a bicycle and whistling when I was seventeen years old.

Break, break, break.

I heard the sound of time breaking, both in my body and in my hometown thousands of kilometers away.

5

The prose in this book was written by me when I was in my third year of high school. At that time, I was living with my school teacher, a bel canto teacher, Zhuo Zhuo, who lived with me. together. It's just that he sleeps there at noon and goes home at night. Every morning when I was still sleeping, I could hear him opening the door, then putting his school bag, and then he would wake me up while I was still sleeping.

At that time, I didn’t move the computer to the room where I lived, so I just scribbled on the paper when I wrote. My teacher’s house has a small patio. When it’s windy, I like to move a stool into the patio and write on white paper. That was the only time in my writing life where I wrote by hand. . Then I also know that there is a thing called manuscript. Because computer writing has always occupied most of my life.

And I am a person. A happy and simple primitive man.

6

In this book, you can see many people, many, many people, who appear in my life and bring them with me. I can share my thin youth and take away my endless worries.

I don’t know where they are now. If there are really the kind of birds I imagined, I want to tell them to see them. When I visit my friends, I tell them that I miss them.

"Good Night at Dawn" is my favorite and most distressing text in this book. I write about rock and roll, travel, and things that have long since disappeared from my life. When I read these words again, my sadness was like a deep lake. In that lake, my CDs, my scenery, and my seventeen-year-old bicycle sank. No one passed by. They have been sleeping peacefully.

These words are the days of my senior year in high school, a long series of continuous days.

7

That day I suddenly remembered watching "Seventeen-Year-Old Bicycle" and watched it again when I got up. It felt like my mood was hanging in the air and couldn't come down.

Suddenly I remembered the theme song (Looking Away) of "Carry Love to the End". Xiaoke's voice is hoarse but emotional.

I saw you feeling a little sad when you passed by the door, so I started singing softly.

When you carefully sit down next to me and tell me how wonderful life is.

In the place where you and I fall in love, people still come and go, and there is still love wandering around. Where you and I fall in love, there are still people singing, and there is still the sentimentality of youth and ignorance.

Those vivid faces have appeared in my dreams countless times. I don’t know why I have such feelings for this commercial soap opera. Maybe I saw my youth, riding a bicycle, rocking and smiling at me. Tears of laughter fell like diamonds.

A few sentences I once wrote, I like them:

First, I will wait for you.

Second, hold my hand and walk with your eyes closed and you won’t get lost.

Thirdly, in a sudden moment, we just grow old.

Guo Jingming in Shanghai

April 2003

Looking back and seeing it again (Part 1)

At the last moment of 2001, I stood Watching the dark night sky and the occasional deserted fireworks on the balcony, with the night wind blowing coldly, I saw a year of time surging and rising in the palm of my hand, and finally calming down, leaving indelible traces. And years as gentle as water. The angels gradually passed over the head without making any sound.

I celebrated my eighth birthday in 2001. Those beautiful blessings, the sincere eyes of my friends, the gentle voice of my sweetheart, everything made me grateful and unforgettable. And I am like my cactus, growing up bit by bit.

In 2001, my favorite book "Higanbana" and "The Most Meaningful Life", the former made me feel sharp pain, while the latter made me feel empty and sad. There is no reason. This world is too complicated. , but there are still people who insist on why. So what, no matter what. In the end, reincarnation continues to turn, the sun rises and the moon sets, the flowers bloom silently, and those past events can never come back. The most helpless sentence I have ever seen: "Those things that Yuanmu tried so hard to forget, turned out to be so forgotten." Is it sad? Is it sad? The huge blank space cannot be dismissed, like a delicate painting A sudden burst of white was suddenly wiped out on the silver-gray sketch, which made me completely despair when I looked at it, so I had to stand alone under the night sky and cry. I used to love looking up at the sky, and the sky was always blue. It gave me the courage to survive, and now I like the deep night sky, the darkness and forbearance that tolerates everything, and no one can see the tears I shed. The endless wandering in "Flower of the Other Side" makes me sad, maybe the best appearance of a person. Just be calmer, even if I live alone, traveling through cities after cities, walking through streets after streets, looking up at the sky, witnessing one separation after another, life, separation, and death are all the excitement of others, and I have my own loneliness. . Sometimes I stand in the empty playground at night and wonder what kind of life I want. I don’t like to talk but I talk the most every day. I don’t like to laugh but everyone around me is always laughing. I say my life is so happy, so I think I am really happy. But why do I suddenly become silent in a large group of friends? Why do I feel sad when I see a similar figure in the crowd? When I see trees falling crazily in autumn. When I saw the leaves, I forgot to speak; when I saw the warm yellow lights on the road as it got darker, I forgot my original direction? Where is the wizard who can predict? Where are you? And please tell me what the most meaningful life is. , please also tell me. When Alice loses the key to Wonderland, should she walk back sadly, or squat down and cry sadly? But I still have to keep walking, and someone's words must become mine. Faith, I will walk alone with this faith in my heart, without fear. Those flowers that have bloomed in my life, those shooting stars that have flown past my head, those once warm promises and gentle smiles, Those bright eyes and kind willfulness have become scars that I can’t heal and memories that I can’t forget.

My favorite musical instrument in 2001 was the cello. There was a video store in this city where I played every day. There is a cello CD playing. Every time I pass by, I always slow down and hear the sound of my heart gradually weakening. It always seems familiar to me, like an enduring dream. There is always a person's suppressed cry, like the melodious bass of a cello. A famous cellist said: I always cry with my piano.

There was once a movie, but I forgot the name. There was a monologue in which the background music was cello. The monologue said: There is only so much warmth in my life, and I gave it all to you, but you left me and you called me Why don't you smile at others again? There once was a smile that appeared in my life, but in the end it dissipated like a fog, and that smile became a rushing river buried deep in my heart. I couldn't swim across it, and the sound of the river became my daily routine. The desperate singing of the night. If it weren't for the kindness of my friends and the love of my parents, which gave me the ability to be content, I think I would have become more and more indifferent. In the past, I always met different people on the road, and everyone talked happily, but now I just hope to have my own separation that will not be disturbed, wrap myself in a blanket, and complete my journey in a dream, because I don’t understand more and more. , those lights swaying in the wind and rain, station signs that fly by, unfamiliar faces, cheap takeaway coffee, noisy carriages, platforms full of tears and partings, extended railway tracks, lonely birds and me, who is it? Whose passer-by, who is the embellishment of whose life. The sound of the cello is like a river, flowing peacefully through my years, but bringing me the most sadness. The left bank is a memory that I cannot forget, the right bank is my insurance years worth holding on to, and what flows quickly in the middle is my faint sentimentality year by year. My favorite song "I'm Waiting for You in the Center of Winter" always has this picture before my eyes: a man wrapped in a black windbreaker standing in the middle of the heavy snow, and the night makes a sound like brocade tearing around, that person Looking back, tears were already streaming down his face. I knew his sadness was immense, but he could no longer cry. The despair in his eyes was like the black tide under the ice, but he still smiled and said, "I will wait for you." , until you show up.

There seemed to be a lot of fireworks in 2001, but the sounds of those exploding in the night sky always sounded so empty and ethereal to my ears, as if people all over the world were having a carnival, and I was standing there. Beyond the mountains and rivers, the prosperity in the distance is just a dream, and I am a failed dreamer. Nietzsche said: Without pain, only humble happiness remains. But I don't even have humble happiness. All I have is tremendous pain. Some people say that the New Year is spent over the River of Forgetfulness, but so what if you have passed the River of Forgetfulness, what cannot be forgotten will still be unforgettable, and the profound past events will still follow you back through thousands of mountains and rivers. On the day when fireworks were set off in Shanghai at the APEC meeting, I was watching TV alone at home. Little A called me and asked me to listen to the sound of fireworks exploding on his mobile phone. He told me that he would chase the camera, and then asked me to watch the carnival from the TV. I looked for the handsome man in the long white trench coat among the crowd. I smiled and told him that you should run faster and smile as brightly as possible. After saying that, I felt sad. The hustle and bustle on his mobile phone echoed the excitement on the TV, so his voice became distant and hollow, as if he was speaking to me from a far away place - which was indeed the case. The river on TV was very dark and gorgeous, and fireworks kept blooming in the night sky and in the water. I listened to Little A’s familiar yet unfamiliar voice, looked at the dark and silent sky outside the window, and felt empty and sad.

In 2001 I said goodbye to many people. Little A is finally going to Japan. His voice sounded hoarse on the phone. I heard the voice that used to accompany me every day say to me: In fact, I am very sad. I am afraid of standing on the land without friends and looking at the horizon swallowed up by the city. I am afraid that I will not be able to see the Chinese billboards when I look up. I know that the friend he refers to is me, because I am his only friend. Little A doesn't know how much I envy him. A person can live so quietly and calmly, without fighting against the world. When we are not together, he can quietly read a picture album or listen to a CD by himself. Sometimes he goes for a stroll on the street, or stands on the roadside dressed in white and watches the busy traffic. When passing through the shade of trees, he will Looking up at the bright and fragmented sunshine, there is a child-like innocent expression on his face, and his smile is as sweet as a toddler. I used to laugh at him for having blindness, but he always smiled tolerantly and pressed my shoulder and said you don't understand. Now I finally discovered that sometimes, there is nothing wrong with living alone. As others have said: Simple, simpler, this is life. I used to be busy arranging my time to be extremely fulfilling and busy, but in the end I found that no matter how much I lived my life, it was as lively and dazzling as the fireworks in my hands, but in the end it turned into a bunch of blurry lights and shadows scattered around. Come on. What is seen is extinguished; what is invisible cannot be seen in this life. /JA told me that the night he was finally leaving, he kept talking on his cell phone until the phone ran out of battery. I never knew he had so much to say. I only remember that there was a rustling rain-like noise on the phone at the end and Little A’s sad cry, like the sound of a sad cello, leaving me with desolate pain wherever it passed. Japan is separated by mountains, rivers and oceans. Can birds cross it? Can I see you again? My best friend in this life.

Xiao Xu Siping was also leaving. Our last phone call was intermittently. She said: You are always like this, insensitive and indifferent. I didn't say anything. After I asked for the third time if it was raining over there, the phone was inexplicably disconnected. In fact, I wanted to tell her that it was raining here, and it was heavy. I held the phone and listened to the busy signal for three minutes, then gently put the phone down and fell into a deep sleep. The next day I saw her post under the melting tree. She said: This is my last article. I want to leave this tree. I want to leave this tree.

Three days later, I received her letter. She said: "Siwei, I don't have time, so I have to wish you a Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year, a Happy Spring Festival, a Happy Valentine's Day, and a Happy Children's Day..." Looking at the "THEMST" at the end of the letter, I seemed to hear Xiao Xu Say goodbye to me. A long time later, Xiao Xu sent me a message: Siwei, I still like the sunny you a year ago, with your healthy laughter and bright eyes, but suddenly too many people came out between us, and they surrounded us. Beside you, becoming your halo, I saw you smiling with a silent expression on your face between them, and when you raised your head, a deeper indifference was etched on your face. I want to tell you that when you look up at the stars, the brightest star is me looking at you.

In the winter of 2001, I gained many new friends, and old friends kept leaving. I finally believe that cruel saying: There are only so many places around you, and you can only give so much. If someone in this small circle wants to come in, someone will have to leave. Weiwei said it felt like a large group of people holding hands and walking forward happily. I accidentally lost one person, and then I accidentally lost another person. Suddenly I realized that I was the only one looking around on the journey. Ziran watched the sunset independently. And I finally understand what immortality means.

The new friends I made in 2001 were Zhuo Zhuo and Wei Wei.

Zhuo Zhuo lives a vigorous life every day, busy with endless things, acting in dramas, singing, playing piano, playing badminton, hosting, and jumping around like a wind-up rabbit. And I also lived vigorously, but died vigorously. Someone said: Frequent exams are like dying over and over again. The person who can say this is naturally a talented person, so she goes to college happily, while a mediocre person like me naturally studies in the senior year of high school in a miserable way, and there is no room for negotiation. Seeing Zhuo Zhili living so fulfillingly makes me sad over and over in my heart. I'm so busy every day that I'm almost dying. I wish I could work 36 hours a day, but my hands are still empty and I can't hold anything, like a drowning person who can't hold on to a straw for political life. Sometimes I am so busy that I don’t even play ball. When I pass by the badminton court, I always stand down. The empty court tramples an equally empty pain in my heart, but I still dare not and cannot stop for too long to regret it. I feel sad because there is still an exam waiting for me at 6:30. There are exams every night, and everything is chaotic. After finishing the exam, as soon as I walked out of the classroom door, I saw the dark night. Sometimes I stood on the edge of the playground and tried to look through the night. However, my eyes struggled to move forward inch by inch in the cold night wind, and in the end I couldn't penetrate. Several times I met a little girl who was standing alone in the middle of the playground. I saw her open her hands and raise her head, and whisper: If you close your eyes like this, you really can't see the blue sky. Her face was very delicate, but a pair of black wide-rimmed glasses made her expression look a little dull.

Weiwei is a very smart girl who has studied Chinese painting for 12 years since primary school. I have seen her draw beautiful scenery with very simple pen lines, but she no longer draws. Because of the college entrance examination. Her father told her you have to give up the same thing when she gave up the brushes and paints she had relied on for 12 years. I don't know if she had no hesitation when she made her choice. I only know that when I chose science, I felt a sharp pain in my right hand. Weiwei never talked about her painting again. But I know she never participated in the school's art festival again - even though she could have easily won first place. The scene that impressed me the most was when she was passing the admission brochure of Tsinghua University Academy of Fine Arts and she suddenly stopped. Five minutes later, she turned to me and said: Let’s go. I'm watching from behind. Looking back slightly, her black windbreaker was suddenly filled with the cold winter wind. I don't know why, but I suddenly felt sad. But I didn't tell her, so I ran up with a smile.

In 2001, I subscribed to two magazines: "Traveler" and "Travel World". More and more, I felt an inexplicable call from the distance to me, even though I didn't know what was in my heart. How far should the distance be? Suddenly I thought of a clip from a movie: a man said to a woman he had been in love with for a long time, I don’t love you anymore, you’d better stay away from me. Then the woman smiled, then tears fell, and she said: Far? How far is far? I used to call you in New York and you told me that you were eating cookies. At that moment I felt that we were so close. And now, I stand in front of you, but I feel like I am standing on the edge of the sky.

I always look at these exotic pictures on sunny afternoons, and my heart is in chaos, but my expression remains indifferent. I found that indifference was carving marks on my face bit by bit, and I sat quietly under the carving knife, waiting to die. I usually have a cup of lemon tea on my hand, and between turning pages, I will look up at the lonely doves hovering above my head. Occasionally, gray feathers will fall down and cover my black pupils. At six o'clock in the evening, a deep and distant bell would be heard from a distant mountain. Dusk slowly fell from the sky and gradually enveloped the entire city. As the night faded and the lights began to turn on, I closed the magazine and went into the room to eat.

At the end of 2001, I was watching "Meteor Garden", a very commercial TV series. But I suddenly had a very good impression of one person inside, Hua Zelei. He is such a quiet, peaceful and unconcerned person, like a peaceful lake.

And I remember when he saw the dazzling fireworks all over the sky, he said: When I was a child, a friend told me that when the sky is about to break, the angels will worship God together. If you light fireworks at this time, you can attract them. The wishes you make are especially easy to come true. I always look up at the black, empty sky, and sometimes I hear some sounds, and sometimes I don't. I have never made a wish on a shooting star because I have never seen one. At the end of 2001, there were a lot of meteors, but I didn't see any of them, not even the one in the constellation of Leo, not even my own one in the constellation of Gemini.

The New Year's bell rang on a local TV station's gala, and I leaned over and stood on the balcony. I looked at the lights of thousands of houses across the street, and in front of my eyes, the long time fragments of 2001 passed by gradually, like the playback of a movie, without any sound. The black wind came through the air, blowing my newly long hair, and I heard the sad sound of the cello flowing from my hair.