In the early winter morning, I picked up a yellow leaf on the roadside, dark yellow, incomplete and powerful. Caught in Chen Nianxi's dust, I think this yellow leaf is the best match for his book. Yellow veins become clearer after chlorophyll fades, just as life is more real after the noise of the world disappears. This is the feeling of Chen Nianxi's book.
? In the postscript, he wrote, "Like all my poems, I wrote it because I had something to say. Words are like an export, a release, telling the joys and sorrows of the world, the subtlety of fate ... The past turns into dust, and writing down these dust is a little explanation for yourself and time. Essentially, all literature is an elegy. Retained the sunset in the west and retained the sediment in the east. " He recorded his life in words, and also recorded his life.
? In the article, every time I finish reading a chapter, I will have a meal to calm my frightened soul. When the reality of life is accompanied by misfortune, you always have to catch your breath, but most of the characters in this article don't have such an opportunity. One second, they are still living in a colorful world, and the next, they are like visible and invisible dust, disappearing into the endless land for no reason. What kind of hasty and unprovoked reasons often make you even wonder if they ever existed.
? Chen Nianxi's book is a record of a group of people, a record of life and a record of an era. He comes from the bottom of society and describes himself or people related to his life, family, relatives, friends or workmates. Like the author, they all come from the bottom of society and live an ordinary life. Among them, there are thousands. They have their own ideals and their own happiness. They may have been beautiful and humble, but more often they were submerged in the tide of society. The description of death is always easy for the author's pen. The end of life is no longer a lament, but just a phenomenon, perhaps a result, or even a little compensation. When life can be measured by price, then the value of life can be ignored. These people who make a living in the mine, between the sound of guns and explosions, they despair, they run wildly, they sing songs, and they are also suffering. This group of people have their own sorrows. Their sadness does not come from a certain factor, because they don't need a reason. Sadness and helplessness are a part of life, just like you were just hit by a wolf of fate in the boat of life. For no reason, it is like running water, more like falling flowers. The misfortune of life is even more impermanent in Chen Nianxi's works. Everything seems to be more like a swaying lantern, with or without, hidden or obvious. Maybe this is life itself.
? Chen Nianxi is a miner. In his life, electro-optic Shi Huo was an unusual sight. In an instant, Yin and Yang may be separated. It's a day when the knife licks blood. But in his pen, it is not pain that flows out, but smooth and tense words. These words are not too tragic scenes, and there is no strong love-hate relationship, and there is no need to use spiritual body to assist swallowing. His writing is supercilious and always exudes a faint warmth, which seems to have a warm feeling. He seems to be telling other people's stories, quiet, calm and warm. Actually, he is the story itself. The story is not gorgeous, nor strong, but simply records everything, like running water. Perhaps all the misfortunes we see in the book are just the author's life itself in the author's view. The author's pen is not exaggerated. He keeps the true colors of life-joys and sorrows are all part of life, life and death are a distance, and the author is just recording a kind of life. For the author, the so-called hope is just a boring comfort in life.
The characters in the book have various forms and different stories. Their stories are not all magnificent epics. These characters are as simple and real as those around us. Everyone is a part of this world, a speck of dust, just as the author wrote in the preface, "What is life like? My feeling is that except for the long and ubiquitous wind, the rest is dust, and we jump in it and try to stand firm, but more often we stagger and can't help ourselves. Our ancestors are, we are, and so are future generations. " The author has his own taste and observation of life and the world. The characters and life in the book are actually around us, not far from us, but we don't pay attention. This is life.