A man, bound to the land by blood, like father and son. He spends his life carrying a heavy fate, digging forward through barrenness, only so that the roots of life can sink deep into the earth. He grips the stick in his hands: it is a shoulder pole, a farming tool, a conduit to the veins of the soil, and a totem of raw, original strength – about standing upright, about dignity. As the years erode the very foundations on which masculinity prides itself, he meets time with bone and muscle, and in the simple act of “remaining upright,” proves the worth of his existence under the weight of destiny.

This lonely wrestling is a modern echo of Kuafu chasing the sun and Yugong moving mountains, a Sisyphean feat against desolation and disappearance. As the years pass, strength wears down, and the body slowly thins away – this is not only the protagonist’s personal epic, but also a deep, resonant chorus for a whole generation of men.

Rooting takes this nameless man as a prism, reflecting all those silent bearers who struggle to live through impoverished years. It is not only a hymn for those who till the earth, but also the most profound tribute to all men who, in the flood of time and the grind of life, still choose to stand tall and meet erasure with the continuation of their own lives – where life takes root, and dignity stands upright.