There are many women in Yangcun, they are all different, but generally similar.
Fate rotates on these women, driving them towards their destination.
One by one, they fell under the wheels of time, disappearing easily like black and white bubbles. One day, no one would remember that they had been there.
Someone once said that true death is complete forgetfulness. I want to record them here and keep them alive.
Even if one day I fall under the wheel, there is still this place to remember them for me.
On her deathbed, Qilan inevitably recalled the time when she was twenty, when she had nothing but strength and time.
In the dream, the miserable Jiuying handed her granddaughter a can of lychees, Baige's husband pushed his paralyzed son out for a walk every morning and evening, and Xu Feng still used that pen to write and draw.
Qilan left, and her children held a funeral ceremony. The white dove with red eyes placed a whip beside the funeral road.
Intention: When they leave, we have to go on for them.