From Red Brick Alley to CBD

1992, Red Brick Alley. The day my father was laid off, there was only porridge made from 17 grains of rice left in the house. The textbook was trampled into the mud, and the teacher advised him not to worry about it. The eight yuan for the books was paid by his mother who rummaged through the drawers and borrowed it from a neighbor. But he drew a ball of fire on the corner of the draft paper. Ranking first in the school, winning the competition, being recommended - at every step there are people who want to push him back. Step on his books, find connections to squeeze his quota, and the secret door of rules will always be open to others. He didn't make any noise, he just used his grades to knock on the door. Gray tiles can suppress the smoke, but they cannot suppress the fire in my heart. This is the story of a poor boy who walked all the way from the Red Brick Alley to the CBD.