When Ye Fan was dying, what always appeared in front of him was his wife's cold body on the day he fell into the well, and his daughter's helpless eyes when the fever persisted.
Billions of dollars and half a lifetime of glory could not be worth the regret caused by that decision to return to the city.
When he opened his eyes again, the musty smell of the adobe house was mixed with the smoke of fireworks from the stove, and he held in his hand the fate-changing notice of returning to the city.
The village party secretary was urging him outside the door, while the Widow Wang next door was secretly stuffing eggs into his luggage.
This time, he slowly tore the notice into pieces.
When the spring breeze of reform and opening up came to Xiaogang Village, he was the first to contract a brick-burning kiln in the barren hills.
While the educated youths were rushing back to the city, his bricks and tiles were being transported to the county town one by one;
By the time Wan Yuan Hu became a legend, his prefabricated panel factories had spread across three townships and five towns;
When the current wave swept across the country, he pounced on real estate with tens of millions of funds.
Under the old locust tree at the entrance of the village, his wife wore a blue apron to bring him food, and his daughter rushed over holding a perfect test paper.
After resurrecting his life, he finally understood that the real peak was the kerosene lamp that lit up for him when he returned home on a rainy night.
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