(This book may bring you to tears, and it feels very real. Please read with care.)
A scholar who had made his way to the capital once said, "It is easier to fight your way into Chang'an than to pass the exams and get in."
People say, "Poverty never lasts more than three generations." But for children from the mountains, it may take three generations of support to leave the mountains and find their footing in the city: one generation ventures far from home, the next is left behind as children, and the last becomes urban residents in a new city.
The backs bent by our parents became the steps from which we could gaze toward the city. The road they could not finish became a longing in our blood. Carrying the soil of our hometown and the hopes of our childhood, we put down roots in unfamiliar cities, trying to water a new life with our sweat.
Whenever the night grows quiet, looking back at that land cradled by mountains, a sadness too deep for words wells up within us.
It turns out some distances cannot be crossed with a train ticket, and some changes cannot be made in a single generation.
We give everything we have, perhaps only so the next generation can stand at a higher starting point and gaze toward a farther horizon.
This is the opening chapter of our generation's story.
