Ju Fufu, she is not a hero who charges into battle, nor is she a gifted genius. She is just an ordinary soldier, holding a seemingly ordinary popcorn pot in her hand. The rolling flames and popcorn in the pot cannot cover up the deep struggle and unwillingness behind her.
Her attack is not like those bright and beautiful swords and guns, without gorgeous moves. The four-stage combo is plain and powerful, just like a series of unspeakable pains and persistence in life. The first three stages of the attack are compact, and the fourth stage is a finishing blow, just like the meal that a family can barely put together for life, without much seasoning, but it can fill the stomach. Her movements are unhurried, and every hammer hits others, but it is also polishing herself.
Dodging and sprinting are her ways to survive. The rotating spatula chops out flames, which is not only a weapon, but also an outflow of her loneliness and anxiety. The flame is sometimes warm and sometimes destructive. Her heart is like the flame, sometimes hot and sometimes cold. She is like a woman walking through the ruins in the dark. Despite the pain, she grits her teeth and persists, never giving up.
The “opening the pot” trick is the most meaningful. She lit the flame and brought the pot to the center of the battlefield. At that moment, the battlefield was no longer a cold killing ground, but the only place she could use to keep warm. The “crackling” sound of popcorn is the call of her lonely soul and her hope for life. Teammates sit around the pot and support each other, just like those family members who still hold each other tightly in suffering. The steam from the hot pot is like a thin layer of hope, separating the cold outside.
Her wound system in the skill design is cruel but real. After being injured, Ju Fufu becomes stronger. This is not only the setting of the game mechanism, but also the cruel truth in life that “wounds are medals of growth.” The wound made her attack more fierce, but it also reminded her that every time she was knocked down, she had to get up and continue fighting with pain.
Her support skills are her heart. Quick support, parry support, additional attack, every action is her doing her best to protect the people around her. She is not as high-profile as those hot-blooded heroes, but silently protects her teammates with her own temperature. This pot is both her weapon and her shield.
When she finally released the finishing move, the flames rose instantly and the popcorn exploded, like an explosion in her life. All the accumulated pain, grievances, and strength bloomed completely at this moment. The blazing flames are her roar against fate and her love for life.
After she left the battlefield, the pot was still burning and popcorn continued to splash. Her figure disappeared, but the power she left behind continued. This is like those ordinary people in life, even if they disappear in the vast sea of people, they will affect the surroundings in some way and leave traces.
The story of Ju Fufu is not as gorgeous as a legend, nor is it romantic. Her strength and warmth, forbearance and outburst, are hidden in that pot of popcorn and the dancing flames. She makes us understand that life is actually a pot, constantly lighting fires, bursting out pain and happiness, interweaving into the truest form of life.
The flame in this pot is not dazzling, but it can burn the warmest light. Ju Fufu’s ordinariness is the most profound heroic epic of life.