In Chenjia Village in eastern Henan, a strange and sick old man lived in the old Huaiyuan that had been abandoned for many years.
Fifty-eight years old, leaning on crutches and taking medication, he is taciturn and lives alone. No one knows his past, no one knows his origins, they just think that he is a poor man who has returned to his hometown to retire.
His eyes are as calm as a pool, and he can always notice the subtle clues that others ignore; he is disabled and moves slowly, but the calmness he shows in critical moments is far beyond comparison; he keeps half an old locust wood whistle close to his body, and often rubs it alone under the locust tree without saying a word.
In ordinary rural daily life, there are strange details hidden everywhere that are inconsistent with his identity.
He hid all his past, suppressed all his sharpness, and just wanted to live a peaceful life guarding a courtyard of locust trees.
But those instincts engraved in his bones and blood had already silently revealed his extraordinary half-life.
