Residual Temperature

Li Changhe was born in an adobe house in southwestern Shandong in 1962. He almost didn't survive the birth. He has been a farmer, moved bricks, and opened a canteen. He has never left the bottom level in his life. He sent his father away - he was dug out of the ditch in a landslide. The first son was sent away - buried under the jujube tree in the yard. I sent my wife away - I just wanted to take a look at winter tomatoes before I died. Destiny is like a dull knife, cutting you one after another. It will not let you die happily, nor will it let you live comfortably. But the river did not fall. He found a faint warmth in every place where the wound healed - the remaining fire in the stove, the certificate of merit posted by his daughter on the wall, the loud cry when his grandson was born. Yu Hua's line drawing technique unfolds the joys and sorrows of sixty years of life and death in silence. This book does not praise suffering, it just says: What do people want in this life? Try to live.