As a child, I was well aware of the towering reputation of the Four Great Classical Novels. Out of curiosity, I tried to read them, but the dense thicket of characters was impenetrable. The TV adaptation of [The Story of Stone 紅樓夢], however, left a haunting impression. Everyone’s face looked the same, their names sounded similar, and I had no idea who was who. To show off to my classmates, I forced myself through a few episodes. The only scene I remember is a man lying in bed staring into a bronze mirror; he was warned not to flip it over, but he did, only to see a skeleton. That image became a profound shadow over my childhood. I couldn't understand: 'What is so "great" about this?'

Back then, classics like [The Red and the Black] or [Pride and Prejudice] seemed like nothing more than tedious romances. I couldn't fathom the weight of their grievances. I much preferred the directness of Hans Christian Andersen or Disney cartoons.

Years later, while watching a Disney animation, I suddenly glimpsed the darkness wrapped within the vibrant colors. It felt like staring at a 3D stereogram, suddenly, you are pulled into a hidden layer of the image. This "hidden edition" only reveals itself when your eyes focus at a specific angle. It’s like the Eason Chan songs I loved in my youth 'Under the Fuji Mountain 富士山下‘, ’Tourbillon 陀飛輪‘, ’Exaggerated 浮誇‘. I used to sing them at KTV just for the melody, but now, laying out the lyrics, every line pierces the heart.

To understand some things too early is not a blessing.

When our life experience is shallow, what we understand are merely "sentences," not responsibility, not helplessness, not compromise, and certainly not weight. Reading then stays on the literal surface: a story is just a story, a moral just a moral. The fates of characters feel like scripts that have nothing to do with us. But after being battered by social rules, hitting walls in reality, and tasting the frustration of powerlessness, the same book, when reopened, reveals a different dimension.

The book hasn't grown deeper; my life has grown thicker. I have finally reached the depth required to "catch" its meaning.

I am grateful I didn't read them too early, nor did I learn "how" to read them too soon. In my childhood, I enjoyed the beauty I deserved, shielded from the premature destruction of reality. I didn't encounter the cruel outlines of the world during my era of fairy-tale fantasies. The audacity of youth eventually gives way to the helplessness of middle age, crushed by the weight of daily trivialities. Time grinds down our sharp edges; exhaustion blurs our goals. When we finally "understand," what remains is often a regret for history and the past.

Time has slowly filled in the gaps of understanding I thought I had missed. Now, holding a ticket woven by time, I am moved to tears by words at the very moment of comprehension. This resonance makes us feel "acquainted," allowing us to recognize that we are all reincarnating along the same ancient paths.



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