Remember the Wind of That Year

In the morning mist in the countryside on the seventh day of the eighth lunar month, Chen Nian's cry of "born cross-legged" suddenly broke into the tense days of the Chen family - the eldest son Goudan's difficulty in walking has not been resolved, and neighborhood rumors have wrapped her up in criticism like a tide. Fortunately, Lin Hui and Zhang Na were always side by side. The footprints of the three of them were connected from the field to the middle school classroom, forming a warm shield to help her carry through the entire youth period of being tutored. Her encounter with Li Yuan was as unexpected as a tidal wave: her ears turned red when she handed over her English notes, the tacit understanding of picking up plastic stars together, and even her morning jogging in tune. But this young heartbeat was disconnected under the cold scrutiny of Li's mother, and it became a scar for the two of them that has not healed for many years. Until they met again, they overcame family obstacles and set up a B&B. The birth of their daughter Li tide made this relationship the prelude to a legacy. When Li tide grew up, he went to Shanghai with his paintbrush and Zhao Yu. In his luggage were Uncle Wang's mini fishing net and Grandma Li's dried sea vegetables. They listened to the sound of bells crashing into the tide on the Bund, and used shell wind chimes to send the sounds of rural waves into the city windows. The footsteps of the two generations are rooted in their local roots and toward the mountains and seas farther away. This is a story soaked in sea salt and fireworks: Chen Nian's tenacity to break ground from rumors, Li Yuan's warmth found across the years, and the sincerity of two generations to support local culture with love. Every stroke is a long and affectionate song that spans mountains and seas.