Pingyuan Xiaoxiong

Copywriting Heroes of the Plains, if you are moved, please help the author to like and save it, so that the protagonists in the book know that they are worthy of praise... The grievances and hatreds of three generations in the past hundred years are filled with intense smoke and fire... The jujube flower blooms season after season in the land of blood and fire in North China. The unforgettable red fruit and green pulp stir up all kinds of tenderness in the heart of a bloody man... This story is told by the older generation personally. Please do not compare it with real historical events... I just want to use concise and affectionate words to restore the song-like pride in their hearts... ——This novel is dedicated to the homeland where I was born and raised. Creation Talk The main line of the story is told by my Grandpa An. Of course, the stories he tells are rough. The general idea is that there was a riot in our village, and later it was massacred by the Japanese. Then some of the old and young men in the village became white necks, and some became militiamen, digging tunnels with the Eighth Route Army to fight the Japanese, and then what happened after the liberation of New China. These things are familiar to the older generation living in the North China Plain, and every time my grandfather An talks about them, his eyes always get moist. After all, he has experienced life and death personally. That memory is unforgettable for him, and I can understand it. To this day, our village still retains some historical relics, such as tunnels buried deep underground, and some old houses with cellars. Every year, the Qingming School organizes students to visit the tombs of the Martyrs Cemetery and conduct patriotism education. The endless wheat fields, the faint fragrance of jujube flowers, and under the soft sunshine often appear in front of my eyes. They laugh, make noise, run, walk towards me, and pass by me, as if they have always been on this land and have never left. They are the protagonists of my story. They are a group of ordinary people, exuding a wild atmosphere and the fragrance of youthful grass. They have not even read a book. All their knowledge comes from what they hear and see, but their true inner world is as simple as a jar of sorghum wine. Only if you cherish it with your heart can you understand the bitterness and sweetness in it. Even if you forget about life and death, you can never forget the people you love and love. Because the author's language is poor, the story he writes is inevitably obscure and unsatisfactory. I hope my friends won't worry too much about it. Where there is a heart, there is love, and where there is love, there is intention. The affection is here, three bowls of old sorghum wine are presented to you. One bowl respects the sky, one bowl respects the earth, and one bowl respects the soul of heroes! I would like to write this novel to commemorate the long century in my hometown where I was born and raised... Intention: A man's ambitions are everywhere