We are the third generation of a blacksmith family in the 1960s. My grandfather took the whole family to store grain in the back mountains. There were spies in the past and there were famines in the future. I improved farm tools based on my memories of my previous life. The whole village stared at my blacksmith shop, and I took out a new sickle. The commune secretary came to the door personally: Comrade, this craft must be promoted. From today on, I have the final say on farm tools within a hundred miles radius.