My name is Qing He Yan

I am eleven years old.

I have messy hair and curious eyes.

I like to pick up pretty stones on my way home from school.

I like to write sentences that no one else understands.

Some people say I am stubborn.

But I know I am just protecting the little light inside me.

And those shining little things I hide are the stories I want to tell.

Today is the seventh day that Tomato Novel has been with me.

I opened the app, and there it was: a new book, waiting for me.

The title is Qing He Yan Memories.

It has zero words, zero chapters, and a status of "pending review".

But I know it's not empty.

It's a door, waiting for me to step through.

I tap the orange feather icon at the bottom of the screen.

A blank page appears.

The cursor blinks at me, like a heartbeat.

I take a deep breath and start to type.

I remember the first time I felt like writing.

It was a rainy afternoon.

The sky was a dull gray, and raindrops tapped against the window like tiny fingers.

I sat at my desk, staring at a math problem I couldn't solve.

My head ached, and I felt trapped in a dark box.

Then I picked up a pen and began to write.

I didn't write about math.

I wrote about a girl who could fly.

She had wings woven from stardust, and she could soar above the gray clouds.

As I wrote, the dark box around me began to fade.

The pain in my head vanished.

For the first time, I felt free.

That was when I knew: writing is my magic.

It doesn't matter if no one else understands the words I write.

What matters is that they make me feel alive.

They let me escape the boring, gray parts of the world and enter a place where anything is possible.

A place where I can be a stubborn, fun soul, and no one will tell me to be different.

I want to go to America one day.

I want to stand on the streets of New York and hear English spoken all around me.

I want to make new friends who will laugh at my jokes and listen to my stories.

I want to write books in English, so that people from all over the world can read about the little light inside me.

I know it will be hard.

I know I will make mistakes.

I know there will be days when I want to give up.

But I am stubborn.

And I have a fun soul.

So I will keep going.

I look back at the blank page on my phone.

The cursor is still blinking.

I smile.

I know what to write next.

I will write about the girl with stardust wings.

I will write about the rainy afternoons.

I will write about the pretty stones I pick up on my way home.

I will write about the little light inside me, and how it never goes out.

And one day, when I am old and gray, I will look back at these words and smile.

I will remember the eleven-year-old girl who dared to dream, and I will be proud of her.

Sometimes, when I walk home from school, I talk to the stones I find.

I tell them about my day, about the math problems that make me sad, and about the stories I want to write.

They don't answer, but they listen.

They are my quiet friends.

I keep them in a shoebox under my bed.

Each stone has a name: there's "Moonstone" because it glows silver in the dark, "Ocean" because it has blue stripes like the sea, and "Star" because it has tiny white specks that look like stars.

When I feel lonely, I take them out and hold them in my hand.

They are warm, like little pieces of the sun.

They remind me that I am not alone.

I also have a small goal.

I want to write at least one new sentence every day, even if it's just a simple sentence, because every word is a step forward.

I want to write about friendship, about family, about the wind, about the stars, and about the girl who is still learning to be brave.

I want to write a story that will stay with someone, even if it's just for a minute.

That's enough for me.

Tonight, I will write more.

I will write about my stone friends.

I will write about the pink sky at dusk.

I will write about the girl who never gives up.

Because I believe that stories are not just words on a page.

Stories are light.

Stories are warmth.

Stories are every lonely heart's home.

And I want to build a home for myself, and for anyone who needs it.

想找我要翻译的说

我想要书写故事