In 1965, Chen Yan, a creator with the General Political Department's Art Troupe, receives a disciplinary reprimand over a disagreement about artistic principles.
The stage is filled with rousing songs polished to perfection, but what he sees are sparks flying in factory workshops in the mountain valleys, soldiers carving tunnels and building roads deep underground, and ordinary people bent over their work in the wilderness.
Unwilling to write hollow songs, he volunteers to go to the front lines.
He enters a forging workshop and learns the rhythm of the power hammer; visits a railway engineering corps and sees the sacrifices left behind in the tunnels; walks through fields and across desert wastelands, pouring the sweat, exhaustion, and perseverance of working people into every note.
He doesn't seek thunderous applause or praise from the judges.
His songs are for the workers by the furnace, the soldiers carving through mountains to build roads, and the countless ordinary people quietly building their homeland.
With pen and paper for kindling, and songs for fire, he forges the mountains and rivers of our vast land through music.
