During one argument, fearing that his superior, Vice Minister Ma, upstairs would overhear and affect his career, Hu Hongbo, in a moment of quick thinking, stuffed an eggplant into Guo Yueying's mouth. Unexpectedly, Guo Yueying fainted from the shock. The next day, Guo Yueying called Hu Hongbo's workplace, letting all his colleagues know the curse. Hu Hongbo, humiliated, went home and raged, only to find Guo Yueying dazed and unresponsive—a classic case of mental illness, constantly repeating, "As long as my braid is there, you can't escape!" After that, Guo Yueying was sent to a mental hospital, and Hu Hongbo stayed by his wife's side for six months, but her condition showed no improvement. However, he gained the appreciation of the female minister and was promoted to deputy minister.

At an awards ceremony, Deputy Minister Hu presented an award to Yu Tiantian, a female announcer at the county television station. Yu Tiantian was beautiful and also had a long braid. Unexpectedly, from then on, Hu Hongbo was haunted by her. One evening, Yu Tiantian rushed out on his way home from get off work and said to him, "As long as my braid is there, you can't escape!" Hu Hongbo inwardly groaned. After ambushing Hu Hongbo on the road for several days, Yu Tiantian cut off her braid at the root and threw it to him. He returned home with the braid, his mind reeling, "As long as I have my braid, you won't escape!" Everything about Yu Tiantian highlighted Guo Yueying's wretchedness. He grew increasingly angry, pulling Yu Tiantian's braid and striking Guo Yueying in the face. His mother-in-law misunderstood, thinking he had cut off Guo Yueying's braid. In a fit of rage, he grabbed a pair of scissors, pinned Guo Yueying to the ground, and cut off her braid. Despite her mental instability, Guo Yueying uttered a perfectly normal sentence: "You heartless man, why cut off my braid so violently?" The story ends there.

The title "Braids" refers to the two braids of Guo Yueying and Yu Tiantian. Both braids entangled Hu Hongbo, but neither truly bound him. Guo Yueying's braid entangled Hu Hongbo's stable government job, his college diploma, and his lean, capable demeanor; Yu Tiantian's braid entangled Hu Hongbo as the deputy head of the propaganda department. Hu Hongbo entered into marriage with Guo Yueying because he was attracted to her respectable job as a bookseller and her braids. These things belonged to Guo Yueying, but she was not them.

Unhappy marriages stem from illusions—the illusion that Hu Hongbo could provide her with a stable and happy life, the illusion of the allure of her shiny black braids. Similarly, in Madame Bovary, Emma's marriage to Charles Bovary is like this. Emma's fantasies about love transformed Charles, a quack doctor, into a miracle worker. Only after marriage did she face reality, embarking on a path of no return—a desire to both die and go to Paris. Finally, I'd like to share some sentences from the text. Mo Yan is a genius, and Wang Anyi has also called him a genius on multiple occasions. Some sentences cannot be conceived through mere contemplation; these sentences and concepts require genius and creativity.

"Hu Hongbo is in his early thirties, with a college diploma, good writing skills, and a lean and capable appearance. A considerable number of girls like to marry men like Hu Hongbo, and generally speaking, marrying such a man usually leads to a relatively peaceful, warm, and somewhat artistic life. These men, after spending eight or ten years in government offices, generally manage to rise to a minor official position. Such families often produce a beautiful daughter, who is usually very intelligent, has a sweet tongue, and wears a red ribbon in her hair. Even if she can't play a few notes on an electronic keyboard, she can draw a few decent pictures or dance a few fairly complex dances. The least capable of all..." Reciting a few Tang poems to guests earns a few cheers. The housewives in such families are generally not unattractive, but rather warm, clean, and polite, making people feel comfortable. Most of these women can cook a few signature dishes, which they boast about at the table. Most of these women can drink about an ounce of baijiu (Chinese liquor), and as the family banquet is about to end, they invariably come to the table wearing a white apron, offering toasts to the guests in their dual roles as housewife and chef; most guests feel embarrassed to refuse such toasts. These women are the soul of those dozen or so buildings by the lake. In short, these women, these children, and these men, living in the same building, exude something. This thing is called: happiness.

Mo Yan's Nobel Prize win is largely attributed to his novel, Life and Death Are Wearing Me Out.

He conceived the idea for 43 years, and after receiving inspiration in a temple, his thoughts flowed freely, allowing him to write this 400,000-word novel in just 43 days.

The book tells a story of six realms of reincarnation. The landlord Ximen, after his death, is reincarnated five times as an animal over 50 years before finally being reborn as a human.

The book's writing style bears some resemblance to Gabriel García Márquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude.

When Mo Yan won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2012, the Swedish Academy stated in its acceptance speech that Mo Yan was awarded the prize for his fusion of dreamlike realism with folk tales, history, and contemporary life, using absurd and satirical strokes to expose the darkest side of humanity.

All beings suffer, life and death are weary; with few desires and no actions, the body and mind are at ease.

To live a carefree and easy life, one must reduce desires and let go of attachments to achieve a lighter and more relaxed existence:

01. Letting go of hatred allows the soul to find redemption.

Landlord Ximen Nao believed he had never done anything wrong, having regularly repaired bridges and roads and helped the poor.

However, during the land reform, he was bound and taken to a bridge to be tortured and killed.

He went to the underworld and cried out for justice every day. The King of Hell, annoyed by his constant pleas, agreed to let him be reincarnated.

Before reincarnation, the underworld officials made him drink the Meng Po soup, a soup that erased memories of his past life. He spilled the soup, saying he needed to remember all his hatred, otherwise reincarnation would be meaningless.

Ximen Nao was reincarnated as a donkey in the household of Lan Lian, a long-term worker in the Ximen family.

As a donkey, Ximen Nao quickly discovered that in the two years since his death, his home had been completely transformed. His former land and property had been divided among the common people, and his house had become a village committee.

His second concubine, Yingchun, married Lan Lian and gave birth to a son, Lan Jiefang. His legal wife, Bai, lived as the landlord's wife in the cemetery caretaker's house at the Ximen family's ancestral graveyard. Even his children, Ximen Jinlong and Ximen Baofeng, changed their surname to Lan and lived with Lan Lian (Lan's face).

Although Ximen Nao was a donkey, because of his memories of his past life, he couldn't accept what was happening before him.

Balzac said, "If you can't learn to forget, life can't go on."

Everyone has probably experienced things that are hard to let go of.

However, the more you dwell on them and can't move on, the more painful it becomes.

Only by letting go of resentment can you forgive yourself, allowing your soul to break free of its shackles and gain freedom.

02. Letting go of attachments and going with the flow is a kind of wisdom.

After Ximen Nao died as a donkey, his vengeful spirit lingered, returning to the underworld and beginning a new cycle of reincarnation. This time, he was reborn as a cow.

In the spring of 1965, Lan Lian took his son, Lan Jie, to the market, intending to buy another donkey. However, at the cattle market, a young bull licked his hand, and on a whim, he bought it – this was Ximen Niu.

At this time, society was undergoing tremendous changes, and the village needed to establish a new image of youth who had distanced themselves from the landlords.

Ximen Jinlong saw an opportunity to change his fate. He decisively separated from Lan Lian and joined the cooperative, while Lan Jiefang resolutely followed his father to work independently.

Because of his determination to work independently and refuse to join the cooperative, Lan Lian got paint in his eyes and rolled on the ground in pain. Ximen Niu watched this, feeling helpless and powerless.

Ximen Jinlong demanded that Ximen Niu plow the cooperative's land, but it stubbornly lay still.

Ximen Jinlong and a group of men then began to whip the ox mercilessly, leaving it bloodied and mangled. Not content with this, Ximen Jinlong brought corn stalks and set them on fire, burning Ximen Niu alive.

Mo Yan said: "Life is like a book, page after page turned. People should look forward and avoid dwelling on the past."

The greatest prison in the world is the obsession within one's own heart.

The wheels of time roll ever forward; those who remain stagnant will only be abandoned and crushed.

By keeping pace with the times and adapting to circumstances, one can gain more opportunities and wealth.

03. Letting go of the past is the only way to be reborn.

Ximen Nao's third incarnation was as Pig Sixteen, who drowned while saving several children.

In his fourth incarnation, Ximen Nao was as Dog Xiao Si. He had accepted reality, willingly guarding his master's home and dying peacefully.

In his fifth incarnation, Ximen Nao was reborn as a monkey. He no longer clung to the memories of his past life; the hatred and resentment in his heart vanished with the wind. He and his master performed on the streets to make a living.

In his final incarnation, the King of Hell showed him leniency, allowing him to return to the human world.

Jia Pingwa said: "When people come into this world, each fulfills their own part of life; this is the whole meaning of existence."

Birth and death, gathering and parting, all happen in the blink of an eye. Life is short, only a few years; be free when you should be free, be carefree when you should be carefree.

Life is a process of experience; the past is like fleeting clouds. Only by moving forward can you see the beautiful scenery.

Author: Tagore said: "One night, I burned all my memories, and from then on, my dreams were transparent..."

The "book" was the Xinhua Dictionary. The first difficult time I encountered in my life was dropping out of school in childhood. At that time, children my age were all in school, learning and playing together, while I was all alone herding cattle and cutting grass, feeling very lonely. Fortunately, at this time, I obtained a Xinhua Dictionary. Of course, I also hoped to read many classic works, but books were scarce in rural areas at that time, and any family that owned a book treasured it and rarely lent it out. Only this Xinhua Dictionary belonged to me. Most of the Chinese characters I know were not actually learned in school, but after dropping out of school, through reading this Xinhua Dictionary. In short, in those lonely and impoverished times, it was this reference book that accompanied me through those difficult times, and it laid the foundation for my later ability to pick up a pen and write novels.

"One person" refers to my grandfather. When I was little, I went with my grandfather to cut grass in the wasteland. On the way back, the weather was strange; a rapidly spinning black column approached us, accompanied by a muffled, thunderous roar. I asked my grandfather in surprise, "What is that?" My grandfather said calmly, "The wind. Pull the cart hard, child." The wind grew stronger and stronger, blowing the grass on our cart into the sky. I was blown to the ground by the wind, and I clung tightly to two clumps of deep-rooted goosegrass to avoid being blown away. I saw my grandfather gripping the handlebars, his back taut like a bow, his legs trembling, his jacket torn by the wind, leaving only the two sleeves hanging on his shoulders. My grandfather was fighting against the strong wind; the cart couldn't move forward, but it didn't retreat an inch either. The strong wind passed, but Grandpa remained in that position, like a statue. After a long while, he slowly straightened up, his fingers curled so tightly he couldn't straighten them.

The image of Grandpa confronting the raging wind is forever etched in my mind. So, were we victors or losers? When the wind came, Grandpa didn't seek shelter. Even though the wind blew the grass off our car, leaving only a single stalk, our car remained. We were like nailed to a dam, neither advancing nor retreating. I think, in that sense, we won.

My story is a familiar one, and it may not necessarily interest you, but because it's my personal experience, I'm telling it to you anyway, hoping it might offer some inspiration. As the ancients said, "The road is long and arduous, but perseverance will lead to success." Young friends, when we encounter difficult times, don't lose heart, don't be discouraged. As long as you strive, you will always reap rewards. Hope always arises in times of disappointment or even despair, calling us to regroup and forge ahead. A person can be defeated by life, but not defeated by it.

The concept of "feeling" is passive; it's allowing the natural world to move our senses and soul. This word has a very broad meaning. Seeing colors and hearing sounds are feelings; recognizing beauty in colors and harmony in sounds are also feelings. The same beautiful sight, the same harmonious sound, yet the degree to which each person perceives beauty and harmony varies depending on their natural talents and circumstances.

For example, there's a pine tree by the roadside. You see it and think it can be cut down to build a ship; I see it as a place to cool off; others might say it's picturesque or a symbol of noble character. Or, for instance, there's a beggar on the street. I only see his unkempt appearance and find him repulsive; you see him and feel compassion, giving him a coin; others might see him and immediately vow to overthrow the social order. These people reacted differently because their sensitivity varied.

What makes a genius a genius is not only their great creativity, but also their exceptionally strong sensitivity. For example, poets and artists can see what you cannot see, smell what you cannot smell. Apathetic people, on the other hand, even if you asked Bo Ya to play the zither for them, they would only associate it with a cotton ginner.

Sensation can also be called "appreciation," but appreciation is only one aspect of perception. The happiest people in the world are not only the most active, but also the most appreciative. Appreciation means finding enjoyment in life. For example, a thirsty person gulps down tea, while a connoisseur sips it slowly, appreciating its flavor.

A person who can find enjoyment in everything will never be lonely or bored. Zhu Xi wrote a poem: "A half-acre pond, like a mirror, reflects the sky and clouds; how can it be so clear? Because it has a source of living water." This is a sublime state of being. Close your eyes and contemplate for a moment, imprint this image in your mind, and then imagine that this half-acre pond is your own heart. See how aptly this poem compares the joys and sorrows of life! The lives of ordinary people are dry simply because their "half-acre pond" lacks the light of day and the reflection of clouds, lacks a source of fresh water—this source of fresh water is the appreciation of pleasure.

The ability to appreciate pleasure is certainly half due to talent and half to cultivation.

Pleasure is generally easier to perceive in stillness. There's a law in physics that states: two objects cannot coexist in the same space. This law also applies to psychology. Most people cannot experience pleasure because their minds are too busy; without emptiness, there is no spiritual awareness.

The "stillness" I refer to is the emptiness of the mind, not the silence of the material world. The material world is never silent. The more empty your mind, the less you perceive the silence of the material world; or, I could go further, the more empty your mind, the less you perceive the noise of the material world. Therefore, cultivating stillness doesn't necessarily require entering a secluded valley, nor does it necessarily involve Buddhist meditation.

Stillness is also different from leisure. Many idle people cannot appreciate the pleasure of stillness, and those who can appreciate it don't necessarily need to be idle. In the midst of busyness, amidst the hustle and bustle of the city, if you occasionally set aside everything and let your mind wander freely, a sudden flash of inspiration seems to pierce your heart, and endless profound insights flow forth. This is the pleasure of stillness amidst busyness.

These words are all footnotes to two lines of poetry that everyone knows: "Observing all things in stillness, one finds contentment; the joys of the four seasons are shared by all." Perhaps poets possess a greater capacity for understanding than the average person. Recently, I read Zhou Qimeng's Book of Rainy Days, which quotes a haiku by the Japanese poet Kobayashi Issa: "Don't swat it, the fly is rubbing its hands and feet." I found this scene truly beautiful. If you understand this line of poetry, you understand what I mean by the pleasure of stillness. Many Chinese poets have also reached this level. Now, let me write down a few lines that come to mind for a moment:

"Fish play among the lotus leaves to the east, fish play among the lotus leaves to the west, fish play among the lotus leaves to the south, fish play among the lotus leaves to the north." —Ancient poem, author unknown

"The mountains are cleansed of lingering mist, the sky is warm with a gentle glow. A breeze blows from the south, nurturing the new seedlings." —Tao Yuanming, "The Times"

"Picking chrysanthemums by the eastern fence, I leisurely gaze at the Southern Mountains. The mountain air is beautiful at sunset, and the birds fly back together." —Tao Yuanming, "Drinking Wine"

"Watching the wild geese fly by, I play the five-stringed zither. Content in my own way, my mind wanders in the profound mystery." —Ji Shuye, "Sending a Scholar to the Army"

"Leaning on my staff outside the thatched gate, I listen to the cicadas in the evening breeze. The setting sun lingers at the ferry, and a lone wisp of smoke rises from the village." —Wang Wei, "To Pei Di"

Poems like these, depicting tranquility, are most abundant in Tang Dynasty five-character quatrains. If you savor them carefully, you will see a different kind of universe, one you have never seen before. I've never been afraid of dull people, nor of overly clever ones, but it's truly a struggle to force myself to engage in pleasantries with uninteresting individuals. With interesting people, you don't need much conversation; a silent understanding is enough to experience the supreme joy of friendship. Perhaps you sometimes feel the same way? There's an insurmountable distance between tragedy and life; once you step onto the stage, you must temporarily detach yourself from the world.