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In this book,I intended to write about a certain segment of society and a certain kind of people in modern China.In writing about these people,I did not forget they are human beings,just human beings with the basic nature of hairless,two-legged animals.The characters are of course fictional,so those with a fondness for history need not trouble themselves trying to trace them out.
The writing of this book took two years altogether.It was a time of great grief and disruption,during which I thought several times of giving up.Thanks to Madame Yang Chiang,who continuously urged me on while holding other matters at bay,I was able through the accumulation of many small moments to find the time to finish it.This book should be dedicated to her.But lately it seems to me that dedicating a book is like the fine rhetoric about offering one's life to one's country,or handing the reins of the government back to the people.This is but the vain and empty juggling of language.Despite all the talk about handing it over,the book remains like the flying knife of the magician-released without ever leaving the hand.And when he dedicates his work in whatever maimer he chooses,the work is still the author's own.Since my book is a mere trifle,it does not call for such ingenious disingenuousness.I therefore have not bothered myself about the dedication.
December 25th,1935
