Luwan Love and Hatred

In the plains of central Henan in 1946, spring was in full swing. The wheat fields in Lushui Bay are like a green ocean. The breeze blows and the wheat waves roll, making a rustling sound. The old locust tree at the entrance of the village was smoking new buds. Under the tree squatted a few old men smoking dry cigarettes. The sparks in the cigarette pot flickered on and off, accompanied by the clicking sound, which seemed to tell the story of the years. A few roosters crowed in the distance, breaking the tranquility of the morning, and a new day began.