Xiaomei is like an inconspicuous dandelion in the folds of the barren mountains. Her world originally consisted of rolling green hills, heavy farm work, and her mother Li Xiuying, who was seriously ill and coughed up blood. Fifteen-year-old Wang Chunmei was forced to grow up overnight. She took her young sister Xiaolan, like an uprooted dandelion, to the cold and unfamiliar county. In front of me are the bills from the hospital ICU, behind me is my father's silent vegetative body, and under my feet is the bottomless road full of thorns to defend my rights. She was isolated and helpless, bruised and bleeding under the huge shadow of the indifferent bureaucracy and grand buildings, and tasted the harshness of the world. Xiaomei, the dandelion seed blown away by the hurricane of fate, was forced to burst out with amazing resilience in the tempering of blood and fire. This is a life-and-death struggle for survival and dignity. It tells the awakening and struggle of a low-class girl in a desperate situation. It is a song dedicated to the sadness of all lives that fly unyieldingly in the storm of fate.
