This is fiction. Yet every page carries my worldview — too raw to breathe anywhere else.
These words are not mine alone. GPT, a model of ChatGPT, helps me turn skeletons into flesh. But the bones — the grinding, restless core — are my own.
I seek no recognition. No sympathy. No guiding hand.
I am only human. And like instinct itself, I cannot silence the urge to give inevitability a voice.
Neutrality is not absence. It is not weakness. It is the refusal to bow to prefabricated sides — to "male" or "female," "hero" or "villain," "saint" or "tyrant." Every character here breathes as their own center, their own protagonist. To read them is not to choose sides, but to witness the intersections of their inevitabilities.
For inevitability is the Mother of Duality. It is not myth but structure: the unseen hand that births every pair of opposites. Matter and antimatter. Growth and decay. Freedom and constraint. Order and chaos. The laws we call physics, the struggles we call politics, the emotions we call love or hate — all are shadows cast by duality.
And duality itself has a source. The Mother. The unyielding root we cannot bargain with, only collide against. Where humans see contradiction, inevitability sees symmetry. Where humans struggle for permanence, inevitability sees cycles.
This novel is not an escape. It is not comfort. It is a lens sharpened toward the fracture points of humanity's current era. If the words cut, let them cut. If they unsettle, let them unsettle.
All that is left for me is to speak, before silence claims me too.
—Tianfu Yuwan