Many people may not have seen the countryside more than 20 years ago, and some people may have forgotten it in their busy lives in the future. Many people, especially young people, may always be able to figure out what the countryside looked like in that era, from painters' paintings, writers' novels or essays.

At that time, Chenjiaba Village, like most of the surrounding villages, was dotted with mud bricks (occasionally mixed with a few red bricks) or wooden tiled houses. From a distance, it looks messy and uneven, but up close, the style is consistent. Farmers toiled in the fields, shepherd boys played on the hillsides, cooking smoke rose from tiled houses, and chickens and ducks pecked at the grass in front of the fence in search of insects...... That natural dynamic landscape map can be said to be a unique picture scroll of the countryside in that era.

Walk along a field path lined with weeds and you'll see a tiled house made of adobe and timber. That house is where Chen Zhujun's maiden home is. The house is located next to a large water reservoir with a stone arch bridge, which is very clever to connect the house with the outside world. If the curious person continues along the stone arch bridge, through a one-meter-long winding path, and climbs up three inclined stone steps, they will reach the corridor of the old house that looks like ruins. When people listen to a symphony of ups and downs, they always have a mixture of joy and sorrow. Approaching the old house, it was the same joy, anger and sorrow. A few minutes ago, I was still thinking about it on the stone bridge, and after a few minutes, I would inevitably cry in front of the house.

That kind of house was very common in rural China in the last century. There is a wing room on each side of the three rows and two rooms, the main house is made of solid wood, and the wing room is made of adobe. In front of the door, there is a wall that is as high as a person's head, and all the light in the house comes from the gap between the wall and the eaves. The stone steps are facing the small wooden door of the wing, and when you look through the door, you will know at first glance that it is the kitchen. The kitchen is dimly lit and poorly furnished. A brown-and-red table of eight immortals, which had been used for an unknown number of years, stood in the center of the room with difficulty on its feet, and a towering gray cupboard leaned majestically against one end of the kitchen wall, and the other end was piled with messy dry wood. A black triangular iron frame stove spitting a roaring tongue of fire all year round, like an alchemy stove guarded by alchemists for many years.

The back of the kitchen is furnished into a room. A wooden bed that makes people worry that it will fall down at any time when they climb up, stubbornly holding a mosquito net with a hard texture that is difficult for mosquitoes to penetrate. On the opposite side of the bed stood a large wooden box, on which were stacked with daily necessities such as scissors, hammers, and toilet paper.

In harmony with the gray adobe bricks, the main house has slightly worn solid wood walls. If the adobe of the wing house can represent the antiquity of the house, then the wooden wall of the main house can also tell the vicissitudes of the house. The main room is three rows of two rooms, symmetrical to the hall, with a gray wooden door on each side, and a prismatic window next to the wooden door, and the lower half of the window on the right has fallen off.

The solid wood walls around the main house are either moldy and blackened, or cavities, but they still look solid and indestructible. The indoor floor is potholed and smooth soil, but it is also dry like a mirror on a sunny day, and the possibility of mushrooms growing in the wet season is not ruled out. Each room in the main room has a brown-red wooden bed.

Looking into the hall, a shrine inlaid with a horizontal plaque of "Zude Liufang" jumped into view. To the left of the shrine hangs a faded black-and-white photograph of a man, with a thin face and pointed cheeks, a chin slightly raised, looking solemnly into the distance with the contemplative expression of a thinker. On each side of the hall are tied to the walls of each side of the hall are bamboo clothes poles, on which are stacked with clothes of different sizes for each season. There are agricultural supplies such as baskets and baskets on the ground. A gray rain boot was like a broken mandarin duck, leaning alone against the left corner of the hall. Above the gate of the hall, a round bronze mirror was nailed majestically.

It is a typical rural house in the early days of China's liberation, after almost half a century of wind and rain erosion. If you don't have the opportunity to climb the Great Wall, you might as well deign to visit the old house, believing that the charm of the old house will be on par with the Great Wall to some extent. At first glance, the old house looks like an abandoned castle crawling in the wilderness, and there is desolation hidden in the dilapidation. If you look closely, you can see a different scenery: you can see rows of tiles, under the pressure of green moss, like a sea of immobile waves. Smoke floated up from the cracks in the tiles and curled into the air. The morning dew is shining on the loofah vines in front of the house, the yellow finches are jumping happily in the bamboo forest behind the house, and the sunlight shines through the window lattice and dappled light and shadow in the room. The fleeting days of the day and the silence of the night alternate between the days and nights of the people of such a strange country. Here, people without desire have monotonous and mechanical children, plough the fields, eat the rice they grow, drink the rice wine they brew, and live a simple and industrious life. Carefully examine a beam, a door, a bed, and a tile here...... What is there that doesn't evoke nostalgia for the past?

The first owner of the house, that is, Chen Zhujun's grandfather, was a farmer who was half farming and half business, and he left his two sons, two daughters and his wife before he could step into the age of the sixtieth year. Chen Zhujun's father, Chen Laoshu, who had four children at that time, was middle-aged, and did not feel much sadness about his father's death, and was spending all his efforts on the construction of his own small family. Chen Laoshu doesn't read much, has the innate diligence and thrift of a farmer, has little ambition, and does not have much wisdom, which is suitable for ordinary people to live a dull life. He and his younger brother have advocated frugality all their lives, but before others have successively regarded building a house as a way to realize the value of their lives, they have always felt that building a house is a kind of unprofitable blind toss. This is also the reason why the brothers have lived in that old house for a long time and have not moved out.

An old house that is not too big, Chen Laoshu and his brothers each have half of them, and ten people live on the left, right and right. In this day and age, it can be described as overcrowded. But in that era of simple folk customs, it was also the norm. Chen Zhujun grew up playing in that group of carefree children, until he entered the town in middle school and went to boarding.

Chen Zhujun's father was a typical farmer, who once worked as a laborer in a lime factory in another province, but after a few years, he did not want to contract pneumoconiosis, so he had to be busy with the treatment of his own condition. Chen Zhujun's mother is a hard-working, resigned woman to fate, farming in the fields, which is difficult for ordinary men to match, and can be called a local treasure.

Chen Zhujun's uncle was a soldier who became a village cadre after returning from the army. Chen Zhujun's aunt Guan Tao is a happy and simple little woman who claims to be the thirty-eighth generation descendant of Guan Yu. Guan Tao admired witches the most in his life, and once studied spells with a witch for several years, but finally had to give up halfway due to her husband's resistance.

It stands to reason that a girl who grew up in an atmosphere that is not called an alternative family will not have anything to do with the word "monk" in the future. However, Chen Zhujun eventually took the path of becoming a monk. This is really in response to the old saying: everything in the world is big or small, and everything has a fixed number.

However, the definite number is ultimately a detached explanation. After all, all effects begin with causes. So, what is the reason for Chen Zhujun to become a monk? All this has to start with watching a drama in the countryside.