Eight-year-old Lin Mosheng has a pair of eyes that can see colors and a paintbrush that is eager to depict the world. He does not know that he will become the only memory container of his family - in the next thirty years, he will witness the collapse of his ancestors' beliefs, the collapse of his father's ideals, and the demise of his peers' dreams. From the collective years of material scarcity in the 1960s, to the undercurrent of change in the 1970s, to the pain of transformation in the 1980s when values were torn apart, the Lin family was like rusty gears, breaking and falling off one by one under the wheel of the times. What my grandfather lost in front of the blast furnace was not only an arm, but also his lifelong faith; what my father jumped into was not only a blast furnace for melting iron, but also an ideal cemetery; what my mother lost when she fell from the teaching building was not only her body, but also her entire warmth as a teacher and mother. My cousin was shot during severe beatings, my cousin threw herself into a river after awakening, and my uncle set himself on fire after returning to the city... Every death is not the end, but another scar that rusts on the soul of the survivor.
