Farmer girl Lin Wandao and her younger brother Lin Qisu established themselves in a barren mountain village based on the farmer's proverbs handwritten notes left by their grandmother. She improved farm tools, experimented with growing new grains, built water conservancy projects, united her neighbors to resist natural and man-made disasters, and turned wasteland into fertile farmland. During this period, he met a down-and-out scholar who helped him, introduced new technologies, opened a school, and was also involved in land disputes. In the daily life of fireworks, he writes down the wisdom of survival and the warmth and warmth of people's hearts, and finally breaks the ground with new shoots and leaves infinite reverie.
Reader comments
This book is like a warm-toned picture of life, full of pyrotechnic tenderness. From the chirping of cicadas in the wheat field to the warmth of the stove on a snowy night, from the sweet smell of sugar in the kitchen to the clear and refreshing taste of mung bean soup, there is a solid sense of ordinary life in every word. Shen Yanzhi's clumsy guardianship, the gentleness and tenacity of late rice, and the exciting growth of autumn millet are like the lights under the eaves, not dazzling but heart-warming. There is no ups and downs in the plot, but the details are touching - the locust petals falling on the shoulders, the lines of the wheat straw baskets, the smiles at each other when the fetuses are moving. The family affection and love are kneaded into the firewood, rice, oil and salt. Reading it is like drinking warm tea, with a long aftertaste.
The truest warmth is hidden in the details: Shen Yanzhi clumsily learns to braid rope, Wan Dao secretly warms up the cold soup, Qiu Su secretly stuffs candy wrappers. The days slowly simmered in the smell of porridge, the chirping of cicadas, and the falling snow, creating fireworks in the world that are sweeter than honey.
This book is like a warm-toned picture of life, full of pyrotechnic tenderness. From the chirping of cicadas in the wheat field to the warmth of the stove on a snowy night, from the sweet smell of sugar in the kitchen to the clear and refreshing taste of mung bean soup, there is a solid sense of ordinary life in every word. Shen Yanzhi's clumsy guardianship, the gentleness and tenacity of late rice, and the exciting growth of autumn millet are like the lights under the eaves, not dazzling but heart-warming. There is no ups and downs in the plot, but the details are touching - the locust petals falling on the shoulders, the lines of the wheat straw baskets, the smiles at each other when the fetuses are moving. The family affection and love are kneaded into the firewood, rice, oil and salt. Reading it is like drinking warm tea, with a long aftertaste. The truest warmth is hidden in the details: Shen Yanzhi clumsily learns to braid rope, Wan Dao secretly warms up the cold soup, Qiu Su secretly stuffs candy wrappers. The days slowly simmered in the smell of porridge, the chirping of cicadas, and the falling snow, creating fireworks in the world that are sweeter than honey.