"Look, the distant wonderland is lush and verdant."

At the beginning of February, it was another chilly and overcast day in Vancouver, with the outside world filled with hunger and cold. Damn, this year's Valentine's Day is really lonely, walking alone on that dimly lit street. Looking up at midnight, he smiles slightly, takes out a set of keys, and opens the door to his heart. When did he become so heartless, spending each day through self-blame and alcohol; thinking of her every day since they parted, falling into confusion over and over again; each memory piercing his heart like needles, silently staring into space until dawn. He is a devil, born in an era marked by Chinese anxiety, a time belonging to the return of the zeitgeist, the year Hong Kong fell. I remember when he arrived, the king of hell was still reigning on the other side of the earth, but little did he know, he was the father of the king of hell, and the king trembled at the birth of his father. Because, on the day he was born, he descended from the sky, silently like a UFO, just as he left this world so desolately. Perhaps, next year the world will become a community with a shared future for mankind, he said. I still remember those times in Vancouver, soaking wet in the rain without an umbrella, like a drowned rat, in a verdant wonderland, as broad and nurturing as the great leader's bosom. Walking alone in the rain, he became a puppet of the era, pondering when he had become a slave? When had he become a devil of life? And there, in the rain, he danced the waltz with a stranger he had a crush on, dancing and dancing until he flew away. His life was destined to be a mess, but he was fascinated by a distant wonderland, whether that wonderland was a trap or perhaps he was a love demon. The next day dawned, and the people there awoke. He said, "Look, the distant wonderland is lush and verdant."

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