The place where the story begins is not special from most rural areas in China. If there is anything different, it would be the people. But the same thing is that they are all composed of all living beings. They live quietly in a corner of the world, one crop after another, and then they are forgotten by history, repeated, and forgotten again. In this world, we often express our hatred vividly, but ignore love. This may be our greatest sorrow, and it is also the reason why I wrote this story. What have three generations of a family and their obsession accomplished? Only we outside the story know it.