"Children of Jianghu" is a Chinese magic cube, with latitude, breadth and depth.
The latitude is the love between children, and the breadth is the historical volume.
A love between children grows in the torrent of the times.
Which young man has never thought of the world, but most of them or us will suddenly wake up one day, and the failure of his life is just because of his incompetence. Binbin's decades of wandering, in exchange for hemiplegia, the last bit of stubbornness can only be rolled to the ground.
When Binbin, accompanied by others, returned to Datong, Qiaoqiao stood quietly behind him, and the next shot gave Qiaoqiao a wonderful close-up, you can see the traces of the years written on his face, blowing in the wind. The messy hair is her surging and complicated heart at the moment, in front of the torrent of history. She quietly insisted on the moral feelings of the rivers and lakes.
It is such a huge background of the times that flows truly in the love-hate story of Qiaoqiao and Binbin.
On the banks of the Three Gorges, on the radio, "The beginning of the fourth immigration..." is so calm and true, telling the traces of countless ordinary people's lives that have been erased in the quiet years.
And depth is cosmology.
No matter how you understand Jia Dao's cosmology, the predicament and insignificance of being born as a human being, everyone who is as insignificant as you and me can deeply understand it.
Breadth, latitude and depth are intertwined and mirror each other, real and penetrating.
In the vast universe, what is the Tao, and what is the human being as a prisoner.
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