In the late autumn of 1957, when the sound of stone grinding in the Yimeng Mountains of Shandong Province was crushing the morning fog, Du Qiu clutched half a sweet potato stuffed by his mother and folded the last piece of textbook paper into his brother's schoolbag. As the eldest daughter, she walked barefoot on the muddy mountain road and peeked at the school window lattice while cutting pig grass. However, because of her father's words, "It is useless for a girl to read," she forever missed the opportunity to study. Her rough palm supported the family's livelihood. She put her desire for words into the stove fire and turned it into a kerosene lamp for her younger siblings' textbooks.
When snow particles hit his face in 1974, Tian Yuhong from Heilongjiang broke into the world of autumn wearing a red armband. This educated youth, who was once the young master of a landlord's family, wrote revolutionary slogans on wall posters with beautiful handwriting. He taught Qiu to recognize the words "Dongfanghong" and read to her the news in the newspaper under the kerosene lamp. Those words with the fragrance of ink were like sparks, igniting Qiu's long-dried soul.
The red rope of fate was tied hastily. In the cold winter of 1977, Qiu followed Tian Yuhong on the green train bound for the Northeast despite the cold faces of her husband's family. The coldness of the black earth froze through her cotton shoes, and also froze through the once-hot promise. When Tian Yuhong discovered that there was no possibility of turning around because of his background as a landlord, he turned his anger towards the times into wine bottles and fists. Qiu clutched the family letter she couldn't understand, and only after the beating did she realize that the man who once taught her how to read has now become a prison that she can't escape from. She stood on the bank of the Songhua River, looking at the frozen river. She was illiterate and couldn't even buy a ticket to go home. Moreover, Tian Yuhong was holding on to her food stamps and household registration. The long night seemed to have no end in sight...
