When twenty-three-year-old Ren Qiyang pushed open the heavy wooden door of the Provincial Party Committee General Office, he carried all the pride of his four years at Xijing University. He thought that the pen in his hand could rebuke Fang Qiu, but he encountered a slap in the face on the first document - the fifteen-page research report was returned eleven times, and the punctuation had to be changed again. "You are not writing an article," Director Liming said, "you are constructing construction drawings."
From the punctuation of a document to the undercurrent of a storm, Ren Qiyang learns to swim in the sea of rules. He has seen the Qingshui River in Dongshan being polluted black, seen the hunched backs of old miners in front of the subsidence area, and seen Yunling tea growers carrying forty pounds of tea on their backs for four hours on a mountain road. He had also seen the light in Chen Dayou's eyes when he turned from a laid-off worker to a technical supervisor, Xiaofang's straight back when he sold his hometown's mountain products to the whole country, and the trembling hands of the old party secretary as he checked the account book one stroke at a time.
This is the quenching record of a generation. About how ideals take root in reality, about the temperature and weight behind power, and about how we still choose to raise the glass of wine to toast the years after recognizing the truth of life. From the scholarly spirit of "carrying morality and justice on his iron shoulders" to the practical responsibility of "keeping soil on his hands and a clear heart", Ren Qiyang carved a meandering river for his original intention in the regular canyon.
Every year the sun rises, respecting the mountains and rivers.
Respect to everyone who shines a light in ordinary positions,
Respect every inch of land that gives birth to new life in labor pains,
Respect every difficult turn of this ancient country,
I also respect those who still believe in spring and keep walking for it during the long night.
