When the mountain wind blows up the dead leaves in front of the ruined temple, the ancient book hidden in the cracks of the stone is quietly waiting for a pair of rough hands to pick it up.
Deep in the mountains, Chen Geng stepped on the muddy field ridge with his bare feet, and the corners of his coarse cloth were stained with loess. He didn't know that the gears of fate were slowly turning under his feet. Poverty was like a beast that had been entrenched for many years, gnawing at the lives of him and his fellow villagers; Zhao Mazi's fist followed him like a shadow, oppressing every spine that refused to bow. And he could only fight against all this with his hands, his heart, and the stubbornness that grew out of the soil.
An accident, an ancient book, like a grain of fire falling into dry wood. He began to fumble for words in the night and recite chapters before dawn. Knowledge seeped into the dry land like spring rain, quietly changing the trajectory of his life. Wang Dazhuang always stood behind him, like a silent old tree, guarding this destined to be extraordinary journey.
But the road to light is always paved with blood and tears. Walking out of the mountains means saying goodbye to the familiar soil and relatives; establishing a foothold in the city requires him to tear apart his past again and again; and when he finally owns a piece of world, he finds that the most difficult choice has just begun - should he be alone, or should he turn around and hold the hands of those who are still struggling in the quagmire?
When a person's destiny is rewritten, can the destiny of a village also be lit up? When the boy of the past becomes a being that everyone looks up to, how should he face his former self?
