This is an affectionate look back at the threshold of thirty, a lonely soul's persistent pursuit of "roots" and "home" in a wandering world.
With almost cruel honesty, the author opens up his life of less than thirty years: a broken childhood (his parents divorced and he became a left-behind child), deep-seated poverty, the successive deaths of close relatives (especially his lame grandmother who gave him infinite love), the ruthless betrayal of his lover, and the life-and-death crisis he experienced... These superimposed sufferings made him taste the coldness of the world prematurely, and he felt "indifferent" and "disappointed" in his heart, lamenting that he "never had it, but he has been losing it."
However, what triggered this memoir was the heartstrings trembling when a train passed through "Dazhou Station" - that is grandma's hometown. The floodgates of memory suddenly opened, and every detail of childhood and grandma's dependence on each other came flooding back: grandma limped around the village looking for her playful grandson; her cracked but extremely dexterous hands sewed cloth shoes, floral cotton-padded jackets, and schoolbags embroidered with little mice for him; her frail back was the most stable boat for her sick grandson; her strong Qu County accent was her grandson's. The first "foreign language" that a child learned; her gentle lies about "Mom will come back soon" are the fragile pillars that support his childhood; her longing for heaven in her devout prayers, and the huge void caused by the cold touch when she left... These details, with the smell of earth and the warmth of old times, are revived by the author one by one with line drawing-like strokes.
