Farming and Weaving Mountains and Seas

The earth beneath our feet is alive with two faces. One picture shows the human world with carriages and horses passing by and smoke from cooking stoves; the other picture shows the "spiritual realm of mountains and seas" condensed by thousands of years of civilization. It is the plow mark on the palm of the old farmer, the half-broken poem where the thread of the loom is broken, and the unsent home letter from the garrison soldier in the cracks in the bricks of the Great Wall. When the spiritual realm is darkened, the human world is forgotten. When the celadon mark cracks, the old master forgets the glaze formula; when the mark of loyalty becomes dusty, the soldier becomes confused as to why he is fighting. Until the cultivators by the Yellow River met the weavers from the south of the Yangtze River. Jiang Huaizhou's hands could feel the pain of the earth, and his method of communication was denounced as heresy; Gu Jinglun's fingertips could hear the sighs of ancient objects, and he was repairing a musical figurine, and was almost drowned by the carnival of the prosperous Tang Dynasty. One wanted to save people's livelihood first, and the other wanted to consolidate the foundation first. In countless disputes, they realized that civilization has always been a combination of farming and weaving. When the memory-devouring "Seal Eaters" swept in, they discovered that it was never the heroes who saved civilization. It is Lao Lizheng who carved a mark on the locust tree at the entrance of the village in the year of disaster, a poor student who copied the Book of Songs late at night, and an old craftsman who handed over his unique skills to his apprentices. It is hundreds of millions of mortals who catch and pass on the spark of civilization in the simplest way. These glimmers of light will eventually travel across dimensions and merge into a galaxy that illuminates the long night. This is a story about planting flowers on the scars of civilization. Let's see how calluses and silk threads, soil and sparks weave another spring on this land.