# 150cm kwok hyun ming, standing by the electric car, hiding a generation of youth codes
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When the evening wind was shaving through the corner with orange-flavored sweet chestnuts, i was bowing behind the electric garage and trying to wait until the rain stopped. Three tall boys were suddenly seen walking out of the alley with a shadow -- a man in a bright orange jacket, with a light yellow hair blown up by the wind and a spark of fire under a street light. I lifted up my phone and wanted to film it, but i didn't press the fast door, and i heard my aunt say, "it's kwok hyun ming, right? It looks smaller than on tv, and the three boys next to it must be more than a mile 85!" this suddenly reminds me of the summer of 2003. I was a junior high-school student with a goat's horn, and i was saving up three months for a bookshop to buy a book called "twilight city." the word "kou zingming" on the cover of the hot cover stunned in the sun and the little girl from the cashier looking for a change: "the book was sold crazy, and yesterday a mother bought five copies of it, saying that she was hoarding her daughter for dowry."
** from the 18-year-olds to the 20-year-olds, ** and later in the documentary of the new concept essay competition, i learned that the 18-year-olds, guo hyun ming, were always wearing white-washed school uniforms, written all over the back of the draft paper in the winter, even breathing ink. In his commentary, "if there's no sun tomorrow," the judges wrote, "the text is like broken glass, it hurts, but it sees light." he had just rented a ten-square-metre loft in shanghai on the day of the launch of fantasy city in 2003 and slept for only four hours a day, even eating with a bowl on the table。
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"i wrote 5,000 words a day, and i wrote about eye bleeding." later, when he said that in an interview, the camera swept through his desk a bunch of dirty manuscripts, like " sadness is rivers." the 11 million-volume tax book, with his crooked signature on the front page, i've touched it many times, and the ridges are covered in fur. ** 150cm director how did he shoot 1. 8 billion? ** when the junior times was released in 2013, my best friend and i were in the last row, watching the screen walk 10 centimetres of high heels through luxury shops and suddenly heard the girl in the front row sobbing: "isn't that us?" it became clear to me that guo was waiting for three days with his team in the snow at 5 degrees below each shot to capture “the ice flowers on the eyelashes when guo qian fell”. He always said on the set, "i'm not shooting youth, it's the light in the heart of every human being." he was laughed at for his height, but no one said that he “can't afford the big scene” when his costumes were turned up in the fair. The pictures of the movie, which were spat on "materials," were actually hidden in his paranoia about "americans" — for example, in every part of the film, he ran around suzhou, cinderville, looking for craftsmen. Just like the electric car that is now in front of the restaurant, which is too short to fit into the car seat, it is carrying him through the crowd, and no one knows how many books he has in the car full of notes. ** on the back of the oath, hidden from sight ** on the day of weibo, he responded to wang doo's explosion, and the word "the oath" was so tight. The comment section called him "fearful," but i remember his interview saying, "i wrote ten years of novels and for the first time felt like a transparent person." later, he tanned photos of the studio, covered with various colours of convenience on the wall, and wrote, “don't let mom worry about” the words “not sharp enough” — the one who was always said to be “sweetly”, merely hiding everything in the middle of the line. The door at the restaurant was open, and guo was pointing chopsticks at the head of the fish chopper, laughing at the young man next door, "this is perfect spicy, it's perfect for rice." the yellow light fell on his hair, three tall boys came up to the cup, and the glass collide came out of the window with laughter. The electric car was parked silently on the side of the road, as a silent witness, in a 150-cm image, hiding a world larger than height. Perhaps we should all ask ourselves: when “labels” and “prejudice” are flowing like tides, do we have the courage to turn all voices into silence and hear only the light in our hearts burning? After all, real growth has never been what others expect, but after countless falls, dared to live up to itself as a spark of fire. (concluded)
