A Locust Leaf Grows in Two Halves

In 1986, a locust leaf fell on the textbook of 13-year-old Lin Yan in the North China Oilfield. In that second, his consciousness was torn apart by time, and at the same time he had his entire life at the age of 53 in 2026. It's not rebirth, it's not time travel. His body is forever trapped in the red-brick bungalow in 1986, but he sees his father's tombstone in advance, the loneliness of the girl Su Wan who he had a crush on for forty years, and the empty and cold home where he became a deputy chief economist. The copper bell of the old locust tree guards the cruel iron law of conservation: if you save your brother once, your father will be injured; if you have a heartache, Su Wan will get sick; the price of changing your life against fate is to lose the most precious person. The college entrance examination results were released, and notices from Peking University and Oilfield Technical School were delivered at the same time. In order to keep his father, he tremblingly locked up the notice from Peking University and signed the name of the technical school. That day, the top price came into effect: Su Wan never married and waited for him alone at the old locust tree for forty years. For the next forty years, he worked hard in the oil fields, supported his family, devoted all his energy to redeem his brothers, and eventually became the new tree keeper. This is not a story about changing fate against fate. There is no perfect option in life. The so-called perfection is just accepting two halves of life - half passionate and half vicissitudes; half regretful and half warm.