The Youth of This Era I

  At the invitation of a publishing friend, "The Youth in This Interval" was finally able to be completed on schedule. At the moment I put down my pen, I felt a long-lost joy and ease, as if these feelings had left me for many years.

  "This Interval's Young Man" was initially circulated among friends as a draft for my writing practice. The reason was that during the creation of "Gao Lü", I read an online short story "Wang Yu Yan" by a 'girl'. This approach, which slightly followed the senior authors' thinking and quietly betrayed the fantasy swordsmen in my mind, brought those familiar characters into my world, giving birth to a very strange warmth. So I started to "extract" time to write this same-style "This Interval's Young Man", recalling some real people and events, and then using familiar names to make these stories hazy.

  The wide dissemination of "This Space" was beyond my expectation. I originally thought that such nostalgic memories were a very 'private' matter, but it seems I was wrong. Perhaps the past experiences of many people in this world are similar, and when I scribble down my memories, my readers will also unintentionally see their own shadows.

  Later, the editor-in-chief of Qingyun Book House Wen Rou, the person in charge of NetEase Cultural Channel Chao Xiao, the editor of Shenjiang Service Guide Jin Yi, Yan Qing Sheng from Beijing Kai Dian Culture Company, and many first draft readers from all over the country gave me a lot of encouragement. It was their joint efforts that made this manuscript possible to be published.

  Here is the translation:

  At this point, I would like to extend my sincere gratitude to these enthusiastic friends.

  In the last decade of the last century, I spent four years of undergraduate life at Peking University.

  At that time, six robust men were squeezed into a small dormitory. The room had a desk, a wardrobe and three double-decker beds. In winter when it snowed, we had to use transparent adhesive tape to stick together the shattered glass. On hot summer nights, everyone opened six white paper fans and chatted till deep in the night. At that time, we counted our living expenses every month, but could still throw out the last twenty yuan to buy two people's beer and roasted peanuts at the night market. At that time, we used chicken legs from the cafeteria as a bet, and the chicken legs replaced currency circulating in the dormitory's betting circle.

  At that time, there were still many things, I thought I would never experience in my life again.

  It's precisely this imperfect life that someone misses. After going abroad, I had a beer with an older Peking University alumnus who looked up at the ceiling and said, "Back then we didn't have any money..." in a very nostalgic tone.

  It is precisely the same nostalgia that drives me to record those past events and use these stories to sketch a rough outline of time already lost.

  In "This Interval", the names used are all from Mr. Jin Yong's 15 martial arts novels, which has been a point of contention among readers of the first draft. Some friends love this kind of character displacement, while others question whether this type of doujin-style work from Japan has enough originality. There are also friends who think that the surface of the story is not important, and everyone is just truly moved in a virtual world. As for me, I didn't have much thought when using these special names, I just really love Mr. Jin Yong's martial arts novels and thank them for accompanying me through my long student career. I also often think about whether the friends around me are like certain people in the Jianghu, so I naturally inherited the idea used in "Wang Yu Yan".

  I would like to thank that unknown 'girl' here, it was her wonderful idea that led me to take the first step.

  But no matter what the characters in this story are called, they are no longer the familiar heroes and heroines of the Jianghu, but rather closer to the young friends who once appeared by my side. And "This Interval" is also a brand new story.

  Most of the stories in "This Interval" are not made up, but rather based on my personal experiences and those I've heard from friends. Most of the stories take place at Peking University, with a few coming from other universities. The personalities of the main characters were distilled from my countless friends. Some friends have asked me which character I play in this story, and I can only regretfully say that there is a shadow of myself here, but not the real me.

  I once had the good fortune to meet "Qiao Feng", but that was already after I went abroad. A senior fellow student told me this story, and later at a meeting I had a chance encounter with "Qiao Feng". At the time I really wanted to ask him how much of the story was true, but seeing him just smile faintly, I ultimately gave up on the idea. At that time, the senior fellow student who was the prototype for "Qiao Feng" was already married, and I don't know where his "Kang Min" is in this world.

  Recalling myself in student days, I was indeed arrogant and naive, many friends were the same, including our "Qiao Feng". So losing something, it's always not easy to make up for.

  Some friends have compared "This Space" and "The Besieged City", thinking that compared to the mature writing and sharp tone of "The Besieged City", "This Space" seems too naive and casual. I cannot deny this shortcoming, Mr. Qian's erudition and incisiveness leave me only a small margin for maneuvering. However, in fact, this shortcoming is also my intention, I did not intend to review the rights and wrongs of those years with a calm eye, "This Space" is just a light-hearted dance of my youth. Before I forget, I used the emotions of that time to copy the past, leaving it for friends and myself to see many years later.

  I remember the early summer night of our university's fourth year, chatting with classmates in front of the window and talking about nostalgia. The bush warblers outside the window were chirping non-stop. I wonder if there was a 'female' student holding a textbook passing by under our window at that time.

  The bright moon was there at the time, and had once shone on colorful clouds returning home. Everything has already become a silhouette in memory.

  I dedicate this article to commemorate an unknown friend.

  South of the Yangtze River