In the autumn of 1934, the azaleas in western Fujian faded very early.
On the night when Lin Yinghong, a female normal school student, and her family were murdered, she remembered three things: the bloody light from the militia's torch, her mother's last words, "The flowers are going to bleed," and the man who rushed out of the fire with a bullet mark on his left eyebrow - Chen Tieshan.
He is the Red Army company commander who was ordered to stay behind. He is as silent as a mountain and is familiar with every way of survival in these rolling mountains.
She became his warrior, his student, and later his beloved. They learned to read under the moonlight between guns, and shared a bowl of bitter wild vegetables in the cold winter when food was scarce. In the mountain col where azalea bloomed, he polished an unexploded bullet shell for three days and three nights to make a unique "azalea hairpin."
"When the azalea blooms all over the mountain again, we want to see each other alive."
This was their oath and the most extravagant wish in that cruel era.
On the cliff, he used his body as a radio antenna; on the execution ground, she used folk songs to convey the final message. From the mountains of western Fujian to the front line of southern Anhui, from three years of guerrilla warfare to the raging war, their love was tempered in the flames of war and eternal in sacrifice.
When the spring breeze of 1950 blew back to the old mountain, the azaleas bloomed all over the mountains again.
Lin Yinghong returned here with her children and found the rusty hairpin among the flowers. Seventy years later, with gray hair, she sat in front of the monument, with the mountains of flowers swaying in the wind, like a silent answer.
The grandson asked: "Grandma, which azalea is it?"
She looked towards the mountains, her eyes passing through the smoke of time:
"Every piece."
This is a movie made with blood and freshness
