Under the Sophora Japonica

In the summer of 1968, in the courtyard of the state-owned machinery factory in Northern Heavy Industry City, the seventh daughter of the Chen family was born. Under the old locust tree, seven branches stretch toward the sky and toward their own unknown fates. His father, Chen Shouye, was an eighth-level technician, and his mother, Su Guilan, had seven daughters in a row. They struggled to survive under the guidance of "extreme households". The eldest sister, Xiulan, dropped out of school at the age of fourteen to take care of the family, supporting the whole family with a pair of calloused hands; Xiuzhu, wearing old glasses with tape on her legs, studied hard under a kerosene lamp and became the first college student in the hospital after the college entrance examination was resumed; Xiuling was bold and lively. Xiuqiao resigned and went to work at the beginning of the reform and opening up, and had several ups and downs; Xiuqiao went to the south alone at the age of seventeen, and has heard little from her since then; Xiuyuan is timid and tolerant, Xiuran is delicate and willful - seven sisters, seven personalities, seven completely different life trajectories. From 1968 to 2010, forty-two years of ups and downs, Laohuaishu witnessed the joys and sorrows of this family: his father passed away due to a work-related injury, his mother took care of the crisis alone, the sisters got married, struggled in the wave of layoffs, went bankrupt and turned around in the business world, and the sisters broke up and reunited before the old home was demolished. The torrent of the times washes away everyone, family affection sways in the face of interests, and resentment ferments in the depths of the years, but the old locust tree always stands in place, waiting for the return of the scattered daughters. This is a family epic of ordinary Chinese women and a microcosm of an era.