In the winter of 1948, fourteen-year-old He Yuzhu, with a sniffling nose and frostbite on his hands, picked up a basket of steamed buns and ran towards the street. The old lady in the backyard thinks the troupe next door is too noisy, and the elder Yi Zhonghai is in his thirties and has no children. The two courtyards are separated by a wall and are occupied by refugees and craftsmen. In this life, everything has just begun!
