On the wheat field ridges in Dongguang County, Cangzhou, life is as bumpy as a dirt road, but human kindness is thicker than old wine.
Wang Xiaojun, the son of an oil mill, fell in love with Li Hongxia, the party secretary's daughter, and a marriage broke out thirty-year-old debts: Widow Liu had old love letters under her cabinet, Sun Laohan's son almost dropped out of school for 5,000 yuan for surgery, teacher Zhao Wenbin's salary was always late, and the party secretary's poverty alleviation fund was actually pierced by his own son...
There are no saints here, they are all ordinary people who are breathing heavily - the greedy ones are generous, the lustful ones repent, and the vengeful ones extend their hands to help. In the sound of firecrackers of weddings and weddings, there is hidden calculation and warmth; under the impermanence of life, old age, illness and death, what cannot be crushed is the energy of "you have to push forward while you are alive".
"Red Head Rope Under the Wheat Waves" is not a pastoral song, but a real life stained with soil, mixed with wheat awns, and filled with the fragrance of oil mills. Look at how these men and women who are busy in life take root deeply in the curses and heat up their love in the laughter and laughter.
When I open this book, I smell the smell of the stove in my hometown, hear the foul-mouthed jokes from my neighbors, and think of the hometown I once wanted to escape from, but now I can't go back to.
Folks from Dongguang, here are your father's drunken mantras, your mother's iron spoon cooking fumes, your petty embarrassments, and the homesickness you even dare not admit.
