Dimensional Bookstore

After a brief period of darkness, the picture on the big screen brightened.

The enlarged and handsome face of the young man appeared on the screen. The camera finally stabilized after a brief vibration. It was obvious that he was taking a selfie on a DV.

"Hello everyone, I'm Lejing."

This brief self-introduction immediately made everyone present let out a soft cry.

Huo Siqian opened his eyes wide and stared at the familiar face on the screen. He had seen this face in many old videos, but now that he saw it again, he still couldn't control his excitement.

"When you see this video, our era should be coming to an end." Le Jing in the video raised his head slightly, his eyes sparkling, and a proud smile appeared at the corner of his mouth: "I want to tell you that I will now participate in A great literary salon where you will meet the greatest artists of our time.”

Huo Siqian took a deep breath, his heart pounding.

As soon as the video went dark, and when it turned on again, an elegant and quiet woman suddenly appeared in the camera. Her eyes were full of surprise when she looked at the camera. Le Jing's voice came from outside the screen: "Miao Miao, please say a few words to future audiences."

The woman was stunned for a moment, then showed a helpless smile: "My name is Lu Miaomiao, a writer. Over... what? Dream?"

The woman tilted her head and thought for a moment, then a mischievous smile suddenly flashed in her eyes: "My dream is to live to be a hundred years old."

Huo Siqian's shocked eyes wandered back and forth between the young and beautiful woman in the camera and the wizened old man with wrinkles on the stage. It was hard to imagine that they were the same person.

Ever since he saw Lu Miaomiao's photo in the textbook, she was a kind old lady with a wrinkled face. It might be strange to say this, but he had never thought that Lu Miaomiao had been young and looked so beautiful.

Lu Miaomiao looked at her young self on the screen with nostalgia. 65 years have passed in the blink of an eye. Time flies so fast.

She has almost forgotten what she looked like when she was young. She also didn't expect that she would tell her dream so hastily. And such a hasty dream actually came true.

She really lived to be a hundred years old.

If she had known that her dream would come true, she would have told Le Jing another dream.

——As long as I live, I only hope that you and I will meet each other forever.

Today is the sixtieth anniversary of his departure. The old man lowered his eyes, covering his tears.

And the video continues.

"My name is Xin Yuen. I am a painter." The thin man always has a nervous and manic look in his eyes: "Dream? My dream is to spread my paintings all over the world."

"My name is Francis David Fitzgerald. You should have read my work "Heaven on Earth". I am a writer." The handsome man with blond hair and blue eyes said in unskilled Mandarin: "My dream ?" He put his hands on his hips and showed a bright smile: "My dream is to travel around the world."

"My name is Sang Qing. I seem to be a very famous writer. What a dream..." The black-haired woman raised her eyebrows and thought for a moment, with a careless and lazy look in her expression, and then raised her glass to the camera: "My My dream is to get my bastard dad to apologize to me!"

"My name is Colin Dunn." The young man smiled shyly at the camera and replied in English with a heavy accent: "My dream is to one day win the Muse Literature Award."

"My name is Nakamura Yusora, and my pen name is Osamu Dazai. I am not a famous writer." Even though the pale and thin young man was smiling, his eyes were so dark that he couldn't escape the melancholy: "My dream is to be a happy person."

"My name is Zhou Mu, a writer, whose masterpiece is "Diary of a Madman". My dream is..."

"My name is Li Liang, an abstract painter. My dream is..."

"My name is Augustine..."

"My name is..."

Young faces appear on the screen one after another and disappear quickly, and young dreams one after another sparkle in the time.

They were still so young, so ambitious, so high-spirited, so brave and naive.

In the years to come, they turned into gods and shone brightly in the human galaxy.

Huo Siqian stared at the smiling and crying old man on the stage, feeling a huge sadness in his heart.

She is now a shriveled fruit, but she once bloomed in the spring.

After the last master introduced himself, the screen video perspective changed and Le Jing appeared in the camera again.

"My name is Le Jing, agent." The young man smiled brightly, and his eyes were like the rising sun: "My dream is to witness the golden age with my own eyes."

The picture finally settled on the young man's smile, and then slowly became stained with the shabby old times, turning into a yellowed old photo. Then the old photos were opened, and one photo after another appeared on the big screen.

The white-haired Lu Miaomiao smiled peacefully while sitting at his 100th birthday banquet; the aging Xin Yuen held his final painting exhibition in Antarctica; the rumpled Fitzgerald and the Marseilles drank and sang wildly in front of the bonfire. ; Sang Qing, wearing a leather jacket, calmly attended his father's funeral; middle-aged Colin Dunne held up the Muse Award statue with a smile that vaguely showed the shyness of his youth...

Photos flashed on the screen one after another. The owners of the photos were old or young, male or female, and they all had a famous name.

There were faint sounds of sobbing in the silent square, and even Huo Siqian couldn't help but have red eyes.

Although they had more or less realized their dreams, he couldn't help but feel sad. This emotion came inexplicably, and even he didn't know why.

Finally, the last photo disappeared from the big screen, and the big screen returned to the darkness it was at the beginning.

...is it over?

Huo Siqian looked at the dark screen in despair, with indescribable emotions surging in his heart.

Lu Miaomiao also stared blankly at the darkened big screen. Those dream-like times and memories seemed to be covered with a veil in her memories. She even couldn't believe that she had already lived so unknowingly. It’s been a long time.

...Why did it take so long?

For some reason, she suddenly remembered a Buddhist scripture she had read when she was young: All conditioned phenomena are like bubbles in a dream. It is like dew and electricity, so it should be viewed as such.

Like bubbles in dreams, like dew and like lightning...

The old man on the stage turned his head and stared at the dark screen, his expression showing the sluggishness that the elderly suffer from. Only through those twinkling eyes could Huo Siqian understand that her heart was far from as calm as she showed.

Just when the crowd in the audience began to faintly commotion, the darkened big screen suddenly lit up again.

The gentle and elegant Le Jing stood on the stage, followed by reporters carrying long guns and short cannons.

This scene looks strangely familiar. Huo Siqian was startled, and immediately remembered what scene this was!

It is a video of Lejing resigning at a press conference on the occasion of the 10th anniversary of the Golden Era.

"I announce that I will resign as CEO of Golden Age and transfer the shares in my name to all the writers and artists contracted by the company."

Facing the uproar of reporters in the audience, young Le Jing smiled wantonly and cheerfully, with eyes as proud as a teenager: "This is our golden age, and a few years from now there will be a crown of justice reserved for us."

"Will there be a golden age in the future? Of course there will be. Human civilization has always developed in an upward spiral. History is a spiral, and there will definitely be more golden ages in the future." The young man raised his eyes and looked at the camera, his sharp edge suddenly revealed. His eyes were as wild as a lion's: "But no matter which golden age it is, it can't erase the glory of our time."

…

"Being able to witness the golden age with my own eyes is my dream, and now it has come true. So, goodbye." The young man put away his body and looked at the camera with warm encouragement and expectation: "This world is Ours, but ultimately yours. I will wait for you to create the next golden era, and I will definitely come to participate in the event."

Huo Siqian could only hear the sound of hot blood whizzing through the arteries throughout his body. His heart was like a powerful motor, tirelessly supplying boiling blood to his whole body.

The next golden age...

The young man stared blankly at the big screen that had stopped playing the video. Suddenly, in his mind, a weak little bud broke through the confinement of his thoughts, twisting the bud leaves to look at this new world seriously and freshly.

This tender little bud will bear fruit and grow into a giant tree in the future.

Huo Siqian, the future great writer, was fortunate enough to witness the glorious afterimage of the previous era at the age of seventeen, which determined his life's path.

And that will be another story.

At this time, he was just an ignorant child who had just been awakened by his seniors.

His time will have to wait many, many years.

…

Lu Miaomiao's eyes once again passed over the faces of everyone in the audience, but she still didn't find that familiar face among them.

She sighed inwardly, gathered her energy and told the audience her final purpose: "After our common mentor, Bole, best friend, and brother, Mr. Le, passed away, we once thought about writing a memoir for him. . Everyone writes down the details between them and Le Jing, and then the last person organizes them into a book. "

"I made an agreement with my friends. Whoever survives to the end will be the one who cleans the scene and organizes the memoirs."

The smile on the old man's face showed the calmness of seeing through the world: "Since the year before last, Sang Qing and I have started compiling our memoirs. Sang Qing also went there a few days ago, and I am the only one left among us old guys. ”

"Before, I didn't dare to die because I didn't finish compiling my memoirs. Yesterday, I finally finished compiling my memoirs, and I can die with peace of mind." Lu Miaomiao relaxed her shoulders, with a relieved smile on her face, she joked: " To be too old to die is to be a thief, and the God of Death has forgotten me for too long.”

Huo Siqian looked at the old man with an elegant smile on the stage, and suddenly understood the reason for his inexplicable sadness before.

He was mourning the end of a great era. Great masters have this kind of magic power. They are the anchors of the times. Their departure will bring lasting shock to society and make people panic as if they have lost a guiding light.

…

In the afternoon, Lu Miaomiao lay on the lounge chair in the corridor and fell asleep. The speech in the morning seemed to have consumed all her energy, and now she just wanted to have a good sleep.

The breeze blows, and the leaves in the courtyard rustle, like a sudden rain, like rolling waves, like countless people laughing and clapping their hands.

In the hazy state, she seemed to feel someone pushing open the courtyard door and walking to stand in front of her. She struggled to open her eyes, and what came into view was the handsome young man's face, as if it were the first time she saw him.

"Is it...you?" She whispered in surprise, raised her head with difficulty, and looked at his face greedily: "You are back."

Le Jing knelt down, held the old man's rough bark-like hands, and responded softly: "Well, I'm back, and I'm here to see you."

"I have lived a good life these years." Lu Miaomiao said.

"Yeah, I know."

"I have a harmonious marriage, full of children and grandchildren, and a happy life," Lu Miaomiao said.

"Yeah, I know."

"I wrote a lot of books and went to many places." Lu Miaomiao's voice became lower and lower.

"Yeah, I know."

"But...I have always, always, never stopped thinking about you."

"...Well, I know."

Lu Miaomiao's vision became blurrier and blurred, and the young man's face slowly faded away, until finally only his eyes were left, as cold as cold stars.

She suddenly laughed.

I have become accustomed to this life, and I will never see you again.

Only the love in my heart will last until my death.

All things are difficult to exist, and impermanence is like the last flower.

The empty cicada is like this in this world, and its disillusionment is like the morning glow. ①

That’s all.

Meeting this person in this life is a miracle that cannot be replicated.

"Finally, I can see you..." Lu Miaomiao closed her eyes and said in a low voice, "It's already... very good..."

At three o'clock in the afternoon on October 12, 2083, legendary writer Lu Miaomiao, winner of the Muse Literature Award, died at home at the age of 100.

In December of the same year, Mr. Lu Miaomiao's last posthumous work - "The Man Who Discovered Gold", a memoir about the legendary agent Le Jing, was published.

…

When Le Jing walked out of the bookstore, it was snowing outside.

This is the first snow of the year.

He held the book in his arms and exhaled a white mist.

Snow-white snowflakes fell on the brand-new book cover, spreading a layer of water stains and slightly blurring the large bold characters "The Man Who Discovered Gold" on the cover.

"I think Lu Miaomiao likes you." Victor flicked his tail and raised his feet to stamp plum blossom prints one after another in the snow.

"...I don't really like it." The young man looked up at the gray sky with a slightly sad smile: "It's just the longing of youth."

"Because I can't get it, I miss you more and more." The young man walked towards Keynes who was waiting at the corner of the street. His clear voice floated in the north wind: "I have become accustomed to it in this life, and we will never see you again."

The wind and snow were blowing, completely covering up the footprints left by Le Jing.

There is nothing else between heaven and earth except the biting wind and snow.

The author has something to say:

①I have become accustomed to this life, and I will never see you again.

Only the love in my heart will last until my death.

All things are difficult to exist, and impermanence is like the last flower.

The empty cicada is like this in this world, and its disillusionment is like the morning glow.

This is a poem by Ono Komachi, a female poet in the early Heian period of Japan. Ono Komachi is a well-known female poet in Japan. She was listed as one of the Six Songs of the Early Heian Period.

Today we took grandma back to our hometown.

Grandma said that she was eighty-five years old and would not live for a few more years. She wanted to go back to her hometown while she was still alive.

On the way, my mother and grandma had such a peaceful conversation.

Mom: Is your mother still there?

Grandma: He was gone a few years ago.

Mom: Where’s Xiao Leng’s family?

Grandma: Not here either.

Mom: Xiaoping’s family must still be there!

Grandma: No, he passed away a few years ago.

When answering these words, grandma's expression was always calm, with a kind of numbness towards death that is unique to the elderly.

It was at that time that I suddenly remembered this poem by Ono Komachi.

I have become accustomed to this life, and I will never see you again.

In the next world, let’s write a story about Le Jing being mistaken for a prehistoric boss in the Dharma-ending era 233333

There is no logic, Su Su Su is happy and happy.