0. Preface
Table of Contents | 1. Dust Among Dust ≫The number 10 is imbued with a connotation of remembrance. People often celebrate anniversaries and hold memorials on precise multiples of ten. For countries and individuals alike, the multiples of ten are the biggest birthdays. Even class reunions are often held on exact decades after graduation.
It’s 2017, and I thought about my “life’s story”. I particularly remember 1957 because of two significant events: first, in April 1957, I graduated from graduate school, making this year its 60th anniversary; second, in May 1957, I began working at the Chongqing Jianzhu University, hence this year marks my career’s 60th birthday.
I retired in 1996, but I continued to manage a few researchers until 1997, so in actuality I retired in 1997. Thus, this year marks my 20th year of retirement.
After retiring, free time became abundant. In response to the desire to remain productive Originally 老有所为 (pinyin: lǎo yǒu suó weì), which means “remaining productive in old age”. In American culture, old age and retirement is instead described as “the golden years”, and time is meant to be spent enjoying what’s left. It seems Chinese culture views old age quite differently. I initially interpreted this as “restlessness”, though it’s more likely that it’s a sense of obligation or duty. , I reflected on my life’s path, ultimately leading me to write an autobiography 《雪地征鸿》, which was officialy published by the Chongqing Publishing Press Chinese: 重庆出版社, pinyin: chóng qìng chū bǎn shè. in 2006. Subsequently, I received encouragement and inspiration from readers, friends, and family alike.
In the years that followed, I slowly eeked out a second book, 《野草闲云》, which was published in 2015. Based on its content, 《野草闲云》 and 《雪地征鸿》 can be considered complementary to each other.
While writing these two books, I felt that being an author was really difficult, particularly since writing autobiographical content took significant contemplation and introspection. In criticising my own shortcomings, I would feel sad and regretful myself; in lauding my own strengths, readers would find my voice shrill and grating. In the end, my readers’ support overcame some of my anxieties. In addition, relaxing my standards and just writing would allow me to feel a sense of authorship in old age Chinese: 老有所写 (pinyin: lǎo yǒu suó xǐe, a play on 老有所为 (“remaining productive”) from earlier. It is the sense of being productive post-retirement, but specifically in the production of writing. .
Thus, in commemoration of my graduation’s 60th anniversary, of my career’s 60th birthday, and of 20 years of retirement, I’ve decided to supplement my previous two books with a sequel!
However, old age spares none — I’m over eighty years old with clouded eyes, muted ears, and clumsy hands, and my writing continuously worsens. Moreover, the most important experiences have already been told in the previous two books, and those that remain are mundane and inconsequential. In a way, they resemble wisps of dust fluttering about an endless Earth. Thus, I’ve named this book 《大地微尘》, and I suppose it’ll leave behind something to make idle talk over.
Liu Zhonghe
International Workers’ Day, 2017