1970, Summer.
The adobe house was so stuffy that I couldn't breathe, and the cicadas were so noisy that my head hurt.
Zhang Yu, who was in his early twenties, clutched a crumpled work-point ticket and worked exhaustingly in the production team, earning less than 30 cents a day.
Her parents died early, and the family was destitute. She finally got engaged to Liu Ruyan, but the betrothal gift was difficult to come by, and she was about to lose it.
Poverty.
Too poor to raise one's head.
As soon as he sighed, a harsh voice burst out from outside the courtyard door: "Zhang Yu, I'm not getting married!"
You are so poor that if I follow you, I will only drink the northwest wind? "
