The Whole People Have Forgotten, I Alone Keep the Firewood

Have you ever seen old things glow? When the sickle cut through the giant monster, the sky was filled with waves of golden rice. When the hook reaches into the void, what it catches back is living hope. When the pen cuts through the chaos, it is calculating the survival path of all mankind. Ordinary old things, carrying the burning will of millions of nameless people, turn into little glimmers of light in the apocalypse. Every time it burns out, the world becomes less warm. Only the young man holding a lighter saved all the dissipated light. The fire is endless and the spirit never dies.