Love and Death Under the Pine Tree

In the hut under the pine forest, there are two cups of morning tea that never get cold and a carving knife that has been sharpened for many years. Catkin fell ill and passed away, leaving the fragments of her life to Lin Kai: a stack of yellowed notes, a commonly used apron and a few ubiquitous little habits. Lin Kai did not hide these fragments in a drawer, nor did he choose to escape. He carved them one by one into wooden pieces, designed them as detachable leaves, and installed them on the "Tree of Memory" in the square, allowing everyone to touch, say, and put their own little things in it. This is a story of loss, craftsmanship and community. The main line revolves around Lin Kai's process of transforming private grief into public objects: from the routine of cooking in the morning, repairing neighbor's old chairs, going to the hospital to stay vigil, to being forced to ask about the land value by the city's development plan, to mobilizing neighbors, building a tree of memory, and burying the ring in the root of the tree - every step is not only a memory ceremony for his wife, but also a recreation of life. The novel has a quiet pace but advances step by step. It not only describes the meticulous manual operations (planing, sandpaper, and painting), but also pays attention to the value trade-offs of villages and towns under the impact of modernization (cultural preservation vs. Economic compensation). The characters are mainly ordinary people, and the emotions are carried by daily details: your tears may come from an action at dinner, an old photo, or an old man's careless words. If you hate exaggerated sensationalism and like real emotions and prickly tenderness, this work will bring you closer to a real rural town at a slow pace, where small kindnesses and institutional games are equally worthy of being explained clearly.