The previous edition of Fulong had no preface, only an afterword. Now, eight years ter, I am giving this new edition a preface.

  Although Fulong exists as a side story within the Tales of Floating Life series, it is actually the very first story in the entire series. The innkeeper's timeless opening line—“I am a tree yaokai, born amidst swirling snow in December, atop Fulong Mountain”—comes from this very story.

  Whenever Fulong is mentioned, I always think of an old memory.

  Some of you may not know this, but the first half of this story was written long ago, before I became a professional writer. Back then, it was just an independent novel posted online for fun. Unfortunately, I never finished it there.

  A few years ter, I completed the full story, and an editor from a magazine took an interest in it. I was thrilled. But after reviewing it, the editor told me that, due to space constraints, my nearly 50,000-word novel would have to be cut in half to be published. She said that if I couldn't bear to do it, she would handle the edits herself.

  I thought about it and told her to just withdraw the submission.

  To outsiders, this might have seemed incomprehensible. For an unknown writer like me at the time, getting published in a print magazine was a huge opportunity—why would I turn it down? And yes, I was struggling financially then. Giving up publication meant giving up a rather substantial payment. It hurt—after all, the innkeeper loves gold so much!

  But I have no regrets, nor do I think I was reckless. I hold onto one belief: every story I write has a sense of wholeness that I recognize and stand by. I can revise the details, but I will never mutite it at its core, turning it into something I no longer recognize.

  So I chose not to publish it, even if it meant the story would be forgotten forever.

  After withdrawing it, this tale of a tree yaokai and a cursed dragon sat in solitude on my hard drive for years—until Novel Illustration was founded. The editor, Shouzi, asked me for a novel, and I casually handed this one over, telling him, “Use it if you can. If not, give it back.”

  Of course, he never gave it back.

  You all know what happened next. This prequel was well received, and from it, a new series—Tales of Floating Life—was born.

  And so, the innkeeper's business has been running for a full decade now. From a na?ve little tree yaokai atop Fulong Mountain to the worldly and perceptive Sa; from the unruly and rebellious cursed dragon Ao Chi to a devoted husband and father who can both py with a robotic vacuum and shoulder great responsibilities—yaokais have come and gone, stories have risen and fallen, and it all feels as though it never truly stopped.

  Sometimes, I wonder: if I hadn't stood my ground back then, what would my writing journey—and my life—look like now? But life doesn't allow for what-ifs or maybes. At the time, I wasn't even sure if what I insisted on truly mattered, but I believed that, no matter where the road led, staying true to myself would at least leave me with fewer regrets.

  This year, with the publication of Tales of Floating Life: Volume Five, Part Two, the series has officially come to an end. Time flies, and all good things must eventually come to a close—every story must be told to its conclusion. Beginning and ending with completeness has always been my goal.

  The Tales of Floating Life series holds immense significance for me. Because of it, my life shifted in the direction I had long hoped for. We have shaped each other, and we have never let each other down.

  When it comes to writing, I've always been highly independent. I value creative autonomy and freedom, and it's precisely this sense of freedom that has brought me the greatest joy over the years.

  The fictional world of Floating Life is my personal interpretation of good and evil; it reflects both my hopes and disillusionments about the real world. Every character's design, every twist in the story—these are things I insist on, untouched and uninfluenced by any external force. That's why, once a story is complete, how many people end up liking it is something I leave to fate. It's great to find kindred spirits, but if I don't, I don't feel disappointed—after all, everyone has their own preferences, and no one can force another's love.

  Simply put, I'm stubborn when it comes to writing. If I don't like something, I won't write it. That's why the innkeeper, her husband, and all the fascinating yaokais they've encountered are, in a way, my “own children.” Otherwise, I could never have spent ten years on a single project.

  Love is my greatest motivation.

  From the ridiculous little stories I scrawled in my elementary school notebooks to the neatly arranged books now lining my shelves, everything proves this one truth. I don't know how long I'll keep walking this path of writing, but as long as there are things in this world that I love, I will continue to write.

  That's all I'll say for now.

  This story, Fulong, is the prologue to the entire Floating Life series. If this is your first time picking up this book, then welcome—you've just stepped, perhaps accidentally, into a world filled with yokai. But don't worry—it's not dark or despairing. In fact, it just might bring you a bit of comfort.

  I am the birth mother of this series—Shaluo Shuangshu.

  Thank you for this encounter.

  Shaluo ShuangshuChengdu, September 2021