There is an inconspicuous Weizhuang in the depths of the plains of eastern Henan. There are hundreds of people. Family, love, friendship, and adultery are intertwined. People of all colors appear on the scene. For decades, hundreds of miles in radius, tenderness is mixed with some calculations. The villagers are indispensable for deceit. One after another, big events and small feelings are intertwined with the life, old age, illness, and death of each little person. They come and go, with joy and sorrow.
Full of smoke and smoke in the world, it caresses the hearts of ordinary people.
