Reflections on Dream of the Wolf King, an essay for Xinhua Cup;

Dream is a strange thing, you may despise it, you may be motivated by it, and you will be excited for it all your life, even if you have to pay your life. ...

Wolves all over the world have a common habit: in the cold winter, they flock together, usually single and alone. It's pink and green in spring now. Wolves in Xiquka Snow Mountain in southwest China are breaking up into parts, scattered in the vast Gama grassland at the foot of the snow mountain.

Zilan and Black Sang had a dream of a wolf king. The wolf king overthrew Lorca and ascended the throne, but Black Sang died under the fangs of wild boar. Since then, Zilan has devoted all her thoughts to Black Boy, Blue Soul and Double Hair, hoping to shape a new generation of Wolf King.

Unfortunately, the black boy was pecked by the golden eagle for his belly meal; The blue soul was caught by the hunter's wolf. Shuangfa was abused and inferior from childhood. Therefore, the dream of the Wolf King can only be extended to the Wolf Sun.

Dreams are dreams after all. Then there is the king's demeanor. When the wheel of fate turns, the creator flicks his finger, the stars move, everything is shuffled, and all talents are empty talk.

What a grand blueprint, what a beautiful fantasy, what a precise plan. Once we make a wrong step, everything becomes a dream that leaves us.