Nan Zhuo is a dull gourd, twenty-eight years old, who has been cutting rosin in the forest farm for five years. The palms of my hands are covered with calluses, and the gaps between my fingers are filled with a pine scent that cannot be washed away. He goes into the mountains every morning, cuts a V-shaped opening in the bark of the pine tree with a knife, and lets the resin drip into the collection cup. If it is too shallow, the resin will not come out, but if it is too deep, the tree will die. This craft relies entirely on the feel of the hand.
Shen Mu is a painter. She is twenty-six years old and cannot stay in the city. The doctor asked her to "temporarily live in the mountains and forests." She carried her suitcase and medicine bottles and moved into the old dormitory of the forest farm. She cried secretly at night and painted rosin blocks in the resin drying shed during the day. Her father is a retired forestry worker, and her mother said she "went to pick pine cones" when she was six years old and never came back - the smell of this mountain was too familiar to her.
One teaches trees how to hurt, and one teaches people how to love. The pine wood has been cut deep and dripping with grease, and the human heart has become hard and hard-shelled. They used their respective wounds to test the healing potion formula on each other. But Nanzhuo's roots are rooted in the cuts in the forest, and Shenmu's return journey is through the lights of the city. Rosin can drift through fire barriers, and people cannot live on temporary residence permits forever.
The two injured people who healed themselves eventually learned that love does not necessarily mean tying each other to the same tree trunk. It can also be two adjacent trees. The roots quietly touch in the soil, and then continue to grow their own leaves.
