As a relatively quiet, relatively homebound person, reading was a hobby in my childhood, and naturally became a habit as I grew up. My reading range expanded from paper books to online literature, from history, philosophy, science fiction, martial arts, mystery to romance—eclectic tastes, encompassing everything.

For a long time, I was content being a reader, enjoying the pleasure of reading. The idea of actually picking up a pen to write myself came on a boring evening in February 2008.

The username “Qingshan Luotuo” (Blue-Robed Wanderer) came from an old poem: “In blue robes and disheveled, wandering through the rivers and lakes.” It was a lingering aftereffect from reading martial arts novels in the past, and indirectly reflected a touch of affectation. In reality, I can’t escape the mundane concern for dressing well and enjoy material life, yet I still somewhat hope to possess the carefree uninhibitedness of wandering through bustling streets in loose blue robes.

By 2013, I had been writing for exactly five years.

Once I started writing, I suddenly discovered that so many stories had already accumulated in my heart, and certain subtle feelings no longer flashed by and got overlooked by me as they had before.

Having written so many stories, time and memory have always been themes I focus on.

Behind every house there was once a complete life, every person has a segment of memory about themselves they’re willing to treasure, every period of time has staged different encounters and separations, every life has unknown ups and downs.

Life between heaven and earth is like a traveler from afar.

Every story has an origin, which ultimately comes down to two once-strange people meeting, or two people who have become strangers to each other reuniting. Of course, in ordinary life, not all encounters can crystallize into the fate of staying together; more often, reunions are just another passing by. But in an author’s pen, countless possibilities of joys and sorrows, meetings and partings can always be derived from this, sometimes even exceeding one’s initial conception.

Over five years, this book “Who Is on the Other Shore of Time” is my tenth published book, and also the one into which I’ve poured the most effort.

For someone who has a full-time job to complete and really can’t be considered diligent, is it hard work? Perhaps.

But for me, living a normal, orderly life every day, no matter how calm and satisfying, there’s always an impulse to temporarily extract myself from it. Through writing, transforming those feelings born from scenes into words, then organizing stories from simple concepts into form, telling them completely and perfectly—this is precisely a process of immersing myself in some life I could never experience, a way to experience another kind of life at low cost.

In this sense, writing is also a gift to myself.

You are an eternal hostage, you are a prisoner of time.

—Boris Leonidovich Pasternak, “Night”