145 Yuan.
The pension of Aunt Wang, a rural elderly person. For this money, she took three buses from the village and traveled dozens of kilometers.
2800 Yuan.
Tong Guozhong's own retirement salary. Thirty-eight years of service, from workshop apprentice to technical backbone.
11,500 Yuan.
Someone's monthly salary. The day he retired, the man didn't even raise an eyelid.
Tong Guozhong stood on the roadside for two hours holding this sign.
The black car slid past him—without stopping.
When he was knocked away, his last thought was:
I forgot to return that sweet potato to aunt.
When he woke up, he was lying in the warehouse in 1993.
There were five more money orders for half a million dollars in his pocket.
There is a piece of paper taped to the wall:
"This time, don't stop the traffic. Build the road."
The first person to come and have his fingerprints pressed was a dock worker.
"I don't believe in you, I believe in my hands."
Later, someone offered 20 million to buy this piece of paper, but Tong Guozhong said, "I won't sell it."
Later, the first man died in Africa.
His son came to have his fingerprints pressed. He was in his early twenties.
"My dad said: Tell Master Tong that I will return that sweet potato to Auntie for him."
Tong Guozhong stands on the bank of the Yangtze River.
There are ten items in the pocket. That's all the memories of fifteen years.
Three steps behind him, stood a woman who never spoke.
A contract between 3.87 Billion people.
The path of an ordinary person.
From 1993, he cultivated to the end of the world.
