From Field Hard to Neon

The story begins in the 1980s. There is no golden finger of good luck or the thrill of a comeback. This is just the half-life trajectory of an ordinary person. From a rural girl with her trousers rolled up in the fields to the proprietress of a Sichuan restaurant, she spent 20 years cooking pots of spicy and fragrant human fireworks, creating her own Sichuan flavor. The old stove at the entrance of the alley has seen her running around in a hurry at four in the morning, and has also witnessed her transformation from a helper to Chuan Lai Pavilion. The years pass by with the flip of a spoon: the dirt road becomes a commercial street, bicycles are replaced by cars, and the numbers in the bankbook add a few more zeros. However, when the days finally changed from food and clothing to wealth, the hands that once kept each other warm in the cold night quietly let go after they had accumulated enough warmth. Have we lost life itself in our desperate pursuit of a "better life"? Twenty years of being in the same boat through thick and thin is no match for the relative silence after the calm. Two people who once slept together under a leaky roof. Now in a house of 200 square meters, each of them is guarding half of the empty bed. When the mortgage and car loan replace the love talk, when socializing and working overtime crowds out the breakfast time, when the tuition fees for the children become a more important issue than the anniversary. Have those sincerities that once shone brightly in poverty become dusty unknowingly? The times push us to run forward, but does anyone tell us how to hold each other's hands and run together?