Fireworks Traces

There are traces in the heaven and earth, and no matter what has been done, thought, or existed, it will not disappear out of thin air. Su Xun, a pawnshop apprentice in Qingxi Town, has been able to see things that others cannot see since he was a child: the snowstorm and howling wolves on the old knife, the needlework and smoke in the steel needle, the wind, moon and farewell in the broken string harp. Everyone said he was crazy about money and fantasizing about rags. It wasn't until the down-and-out old tracer passed by and left behind a yellowed copy of "Shihen's Notes" that he opened the dusty door. It turns out that in this world, there are not only the relics of great power in the ancient holy sites, but also all kinds of life in the ordinary fireworks. He walked through the long alleys of the market and picked up the tenacity of the butcher who wielded his knife a thousand times, the tenderness of his grandmother who had been sewing for a lifetime, the persistence of the scholar's pen and ink, and the lonely courage of the veteran guarding the border alone. The world pursues the ancients and the saints, takes the legacy of the strong as a model, and regards the remnants of the commonplace as worn-out shoes. Only he knows that the purest power is always hidden in the most ordinary fireworks. Later, the traceless catastrophe came, and the traces of the eternal sages were annihilated one by one, and the world was about to return to chaos. The young man who walked out of the pawn shop, with all the traces of mortal traces in the world, stood in the sky. He said: "The path traveled by sages is just a road, but the life lived by a mortal is not considered a trace?" This is a story of secular enlightenment. It is also a hymn to all ordinary people. Wherever you walk, you will leave traces.