In the seventeenth year of the Republic of China, Lu Yan left his hometown and went to Shanghai with a handful of his hometown. Among the steel and concrete in the bustling city, he found an abandoned garden on the outskirts of the city. Using a hoe as a pen and soil as paper, he regained the farming skills of his ancestors. In the next three years, the ruler became a bridge. He wrote down the morning dew in the field ridges, the new green in the vegetable patch, the anxiety when expelling insects, and the joy during harvest, one by one, into letters and sent them to relatives, friends and old acquaintances in distant places. The letter contains not only the details of farming, but also the collision between city and countryside, and also hides the persistence of the authenticity of life. Those replies across mountains and seas, some conveying experience, some concern, or expressing emotion, are intertwined into a pastoral scroll in the modern city, with fireworks and sincerity filling every line.
