Word Visionary

Lin Yan, a senior high school student, has an old pen inherited from his ancestors. When the pen tip is lowered, he can write words with "feeling". Write "morning light" and a real warmth will appear on the page; write "clear spring" and a hint of coolness seems to flow in the air. This is not magic, but a faint echo of the ancient "literary heart" - when the writer's thoughts are pure and sincere, the pen and ink can resonate with the remaining emotional images between heaven and earth, turning words into bridges and connecting perceptions. For the first time, the ink marks under the pen are subject to scrutiny, comparison and even covetation. At the same time, deep in the old street, retired Chinese teacher Gu Mo stirred the syrup that had been boiling forever and told him the truth: "The way of writing has existed since ancient times. Cangjie created characters, the sky rains millet, and the ghosts cry at night. What your pen eats is not the ink, but the state of mind." Facing the coming storm, Lin Yan must answer: Is the pen in his hand dancing for comparison and proof, or is it writing to protect the warmth and connection in those ordinary morning lights? In the youth filled with stacks of test papers, watch how they use pen and ink as a boat to sail through the fog of reality and sail towards the "mountain river" in their hearts.