In the Twelfth Lunar Month of That Year, We Married a Veteran

In the twelfth lunar month of 1993, Ji Wangbei, a retired cook, returned to his hometown. His mother's grave was covered with weeds, and his four-year-old nephew was beaten with bruises all over his body. He snatched the child back and was so poor that he could barely make a bowl of hot porridge. In the same winter, He Qiuhe was sold to a cripple by his father in exchange for a bride price. She escaped during the night and fell into a blizzard. Two desperate people collided in the snow. "You can cook, and I can settle the accounts. You take care of the children, and I'll take care of the money. It's better to work together than to do it alone." A marriage certificate worth nine yuan, two woven bags of all the belongings, and three hard-seat tickets to the south. They piled into a green truck and set up their first pot in a tin house in a village in the middle of Guangzhou City. From the box lunch stall in front of the factory to your own restaurant, from hiding from the urban management to buying a front house - no one is born to be a boss, they are just willing to work harder than anyone else. This is a story about living together as a couple, but turning their lives into a real home.