When Nan You threw the last resignation report on the director's desk, the other party didn't even raise his eyelids. Thirty-three years old, I have been working in a design institute for seven years, but I can't stand it if I can't get promoted. She dragged her suitcase and boarded the high-speed train back to her hometown. Persimmon forests passed by the window, with dead branches like an old man's open fingers. The persimmon garden in my hometown has been deserted for five years, and no one has taken care of it since my grandfather passed away. She pushed open the rusted iron gate. Wild grass reached her knees. The old persimmon tree stood crookedly, its skin as rough and chapped as a turtle's back. An iron scraper was unearthed from the grass. It was rusty, the blade was curled, and the cloth wrapped around the handle was rotted into flocculation. There was a word engraved on the root of the blade, which was covered in red rust. She dug at it for a long time and recognized it as "". The old man next door passed by and called her: "Nanny, you've come back just in time - that kid from the Jiang family is coming back too."
