Waiting for our story to spread

  It was 1:00 am when I wrote this sentence. I’m thinking: maybe every story that is spreading and growing is born from a seed that was inadvertently planted a long time ago.
  Ten years ago at this time, it was 1:00 in the morning. I’m only 17 years old and in my third year of high school. The dormitory of the boarding school was filled with darkness that could not see the end, and could not see left and right, and everyone fell asleep. I quietly lit a pitifully small lamp—it couldn’t even illuminate the sixth line of a page when pinned to the brow. When turning pages, you have to be careful, for fear of waking up someone. I’m not afraid of their complaining at the same time, but I’m afraid that it will cause them to fall asleep in the daytime class the next day. The omission of that moment, in a month’s time, may be the third point that determines the fate of life.
  There is no exaggeration, and even I sighed about the coincidence of life: at that time, I was reluctant to sleep and had to read the magazine that I was sitting in front of the computer at this moment, staying up late, unable to bear sleep, and was writing and editing the magazine. At that time, my ideals and all aspirations for the future of life were so simple. Just be an editor. No ambition, nothing to do with money, fame or other people’s worship, just to immerse in the imagination brought by paper and words, purely to satisfy curiosity, to find out every possible “why” between the lines.
  What I want to review is that I haven’t asked myself these three words for so long that I’ve been busy for a few years, and it’s like I fell asleep. Like all previous awakenings, it was only for such a long sleep.
  I wonder if you, who are reading me, feel the same way about life? Or lament the naivety of a young man.
  Say something about “waking up” me. In recent days, I have been paying attention to the rescue of the sperm whales in Shipu, Xiangshan, and I have also contacted a reporter who was on the front line of the incident and followed up the whole process. After reading the reports with almost the same tone, I once suspected that some of the rescue came from the sincerity of the fishermen, and some was exaggerated by the media. Until the second phone call with the reporter. He said: “Many fishermen in Shipu are now ‘going ashore’, instead of fishing, they are looking for other ways to make a living. They themselves feel that the more fish they catch, the less money they can make, and they are losing money.”
  This sentence alone brings back my memory. I visited the fishing port in Ningbo a few years ago, and it was also in May. At that time, as a traveler, I was amazed that people who lived by the sea were so “relaxed” that they didn’t go to sea or sail a boat. When a stunning, small, silver-glowing hairtail was caught, the fisherman quickly untied it and threw it back into the sea. I asked him: “It’s all caught, why put it back?” He didn’t seem to be good at words, he just grinned at me and said, “It’s not good during the fishing moratorium.” Another tourist booed: “Don’t be afraid, we don’t see it. What a beautiful fish.” He kept shaking his head and said, “It’s too small, it’s not good.” Then he put away the rod, and no longer let go of the hook, he leaned on the small chair and stared at the sea in a daze.
  I was startled, as if everything had a clue at some point in the past. Isn’t the rescue of the whale this time the “bad” in the hearts and mouths of the fishermen, which is instinctively reflected in their actions? And the seed of kindness and firmness will surely bear the fruit of kindness and firmness.
  Contrary to doubts about life. In fact, since the first day I became a magazine editor, I have heard too many “civil trials” as the conclusion of the paper media, and also heard too many dejected, but it seems to be sensible remarks – I advise you to choose a new one Profession. However, when I was editing the manuscript, I found a few words or a sentence hidden in a long dissertation when the author wrote emotionally, I still couldn’t help but sigh: ”
  It’s been a long time, old friend.” The sparks that flashed from time to time in these work made me realize that what I was pursuing was still the magazine, the paragraph of text in my heart ten years ago, or the faint light that could not even illuminate the sixth line of the book . I think that the people who are reading, colleagues, authors and readers, have the same pursuit as me. It is nothing more than a “seed” when the words come to the pen and have to be written.
  When the pen is written, the power of words has already begun to grow. Whether it is on a lonely white paper or an electronic screen full of information, all the forms in which the story spreads and blooms in the future are the feedback for today’s persistence. .
  Therefore, today I still want to make a wish as naive as I was 17 years old.
  I hope that in another ten years, you will change your appearance, and I will also be different from today, and we can still meet on paper. In the time of reading a sentence, we will sigh silently:
  ”Long time no see, old friend.”