In the villages of the northern plains, life once grew as plainly as weeds on the ridges of the fields. She was an ordinary girl who followed her parents to grow wheat and spin yarn, watching the sun rise and the moon set, hoping for a full harvest. Until artillery fire pierced the sky, gunpowder smoke filled the wheat fields, and the peace was crushed to pieces.
After the fall of her homeland, her parents died tragically. She followed the fleeing crowd southward, carrying only a copper oil lamp left by her mother. On the way, she saw burned-out villages, heard desperate cries, and met soldiers carrying guns, gentlemen practicing medicine, and women secretly delivering news.
From being panicked and cowardly at the beginning, she learned to hide her fear and used her weak shoulders to do what she could: change dressings for the wounded, distribute food to the homeless, and light oil lamps to guide the direction in the dark night. The light of the copper oil lamp is weak, but it can penetrate the wind and sand; her strength is small, but she grows stubbornly in the beacon fire.
In the flames of war, she witnessed the good and evil of human nature, perseverance and betrayal, and gradually understood that the so-called resistance is not only a charge in the hail of bullets, but also the hope that refuses to be extinguished in the darkness, and the warmth of supporting each other in desperate situations. This lamp, this "green ear" standing tall in the wind and sand, will eventually join countless ordinary people in forging a path to dawn in the midst of suffering.
