Chronicles of Mafushan

A long song of time and land. My hometown, Mafushan, is a small village nestled among the mountains, where countless legendary tales have flowed and my entire childhood and youth lie hidden. Many years ago, the villagers were desperately poor, suffering hardship after hardship, yet they lived on with stubborn determination and raised their families. In the 1970s, life in Mafushan was like the old well at Dragon King Terrace, deep and still. Whenever we heard the old brigade leader's wooden clapper, the adults would set off for another day of toil in the fields. After school, my friends and I would often sling our handmade bamboo baskets over our backs and climb the hills to cut grass for the cattle. Crossing ditches and ridges, we grew close to every blade of grass and every tree around us.

The spring breeze of reform and opening up reached Mafushan, and everything began to change quietly. Roads were built, electric lights replaced the dim kerosene lamps, and we moved from old wooden houses into bright, spacious classrooms. I left the mountains to study and work in the city, then returned to live in the village, witnessing Mafushan's rise and decline. The figures who toiled from dawn till dusk, and the days spent striving to change our fate, became the most precious treasures and memories of my life.

This is not only Mafushan's story, but also a glimpse of how countless Chinese villages transformed amid the tides of a changing era, filled with sweat, hope, and an indomitable spirit.