In a mountain village in western Hunan, Lin Qingshan, the son of a woodcarver, followed his father's knife and learned to recognize the texture of the world from the wood grain. Floods, salt taxes, and ethnic rules are lingering in the old house, while the new school, trains, and newspapers in the distance are like the wind, beating on the wooden door. From the late Qing Dynasty to the Republic of China, from Changsha to Shanghai, he walked between the sword and the pen, being both a bystander and a participant. Editor He Lizhi, female reporter Zhao Yan, radical friend Luo Bai, conservative cousin Lin Cheng, all complex characters are ups and downs, entangled and contradictory in the huge waves of the times. Their choices include enthusiasm, cowardice, and tearful toughness. Before the war, the city's order had been broken; at the first gunfire, the boundaries on paper shrank rapidly. Woodcuts and typefaces complement each other - the former is engraved in the years, the latter is scattered in the wind. This book uses a calm and delicate writing style to describe the fate of people under social changes. Through the eyes of a journalist, it asks about the background of history: In the turmoil, what is true and what is human?
