When Zhang Yanyun walked out of Qingshiao, all he owned was an old pen left by his mother and a sentence: "The pen is lighter than the hoe, but the pen can also grow crops."
He broke into the provincial capital university with an earthy smell all over his body, and wrote an article "Morning on the Field Ridge" in the corner of the cafeteria. Shen Qingyi, the editor of the school newspaper, cried in the office for a long time after reading the sentence "The fog will disperse and the sun will come out." His manuscripts began to be seen, and he encountered rejection letters plastered all over the wall. Carrying rice bags at the wholesale market, washing dishes late at night, and letting rain leak in the rental house - he planted his own seedlings one by one in the roughest ground floor of the city. And she was the one who understood that his cuff was missing a button.
By the moat, Zhang Yanyun put the pen into Shen Qingyi's hand. "My mother said this pen can grow crops. I have grown a lot of things. Now I want you to help me plant them." She gripped the pen tightly, stood up on tiptoes, and kissed him gently on the forehead.
Others say his writing is "too vulgar". Shen Qingyi said that good things grow from the soil. But can the crops grown in the soil wait until the day of harvest in this reinforced concrete city?
