In the summer of 1997, five-year-old Wang Yiming tiptoed and knocked over the bottle of sesame oil on the top of the cupboard. The golden liquid flowed freely across the pitted mud floor, and the strong sesame aroma instantly swallowed up the dim stove room. Grandma's broom knot, mother's pale face, grandpa's sigh at the sunbathing area, and his father's silent cleaning after returning—that afternoon, he vaguely touched the heavy and fragile texture of life for the first time.
He is Wang Jianguo's youngest son. Wang Jianguo is the respected "Master Wang" at the country banquet, the omnipotent eldest brother in the eyes of his brothers, and the "good guy" who always puts outsiders before his family in the hearts of his wife and children. He used his skills as a chef to bring his family back from the brink of poverty, but he used every bit of dignity he earned to pave the way to the outside world, leaving years of quarrels and deprivation under his own roof. He believes that fists and silence are the language of his father, and his love is like the choking fumes when he cooks. It is everywhere but suffocating.
Wang Yiming grew up under this roof mixed with the fragrance of oil, sighs and the shadow of sticks. He inherited his father's intelligence and "generousness" in his bones, but he vowed never to become a father. As a child, he exchanged stolen fruit candies for the support of his playmates; as a teenager, when the brief glimmer of "studying hard" was ruthlessly snuffed out by reality, he turned around and poured his pocket money and excess energy into fame and loyalty in the campus "ganghu", becoming a "pseudo gangster" with the lowest grades but excellent popularity. Adolescent love comes quickly and bitterly, like a play that hastily ended without preview.
Intention: growth