"Get out of the ancestral hall! Daughters from other families are not worthy of sharing the land!" With the words of the patriarch, the three Luo Xiaoman siblings were kicked out. The dilapidated house is leaking, the rice jar is bottomed out, the younger brother is so hungry that he is chewing tree bark, and the younger sister has a fever and has no money to take medicine. In despair, the memory of handicrafts suddenly came to my mind - the ancient methods of silkworm rearing, brocade weaving and embroidery in Sichuan, as if carved into my bones and blood. She gritted her teeth and borrowed silkworm seeds, and started by collecting mulberry to feed the silkworms. In the middle of the night, I was guarding the silkworm babies for fear of freezing to death, and my fingers were pricked with blood blisters by spinning needles. The first piece of coarse cloth sold for 20 cents, and the first embroidery was noticed by the shopkeeper of the cloth shop in the town... As soon as her life started to improve, tribesmen who coveted her craftsmanship and jealous rivals of the cloth shop came to her door one after another. What's even stranger is that the ancestral silk always has a better luster than others - is it the earth's aura quietly repaying her integrity? Luo Xiaoman didn't know, she only knew: the land and the creatures never let down every drop of sweat.
