When architect Su Wan meets Jiang Ci, a heart surgeon covered in blood, in the hospital, the orange candy that rolled into the sewer ten years ago suddenly turns into a blood-stained scalpel. He pushed her away with lies, but he planted forget-me-nots in the flower field; she sowed seeds in front of the tombstone, only to understand that the flower language of "never fade" hides the fatal jet lag.
He is a life-saving doctor, but he remains silent about his diagnosis of hereditary heart disease; she wraps her scars with reason, but falls into his "misplaced tenderness" step by step. In the flower field under the starry sky, he said "the flowering period is short but can freeze the dusk", but the petals on his chest were soaked with coughed up blood; under the light of the operating table, he heard the current sound of the monitor as her heartbeat, and used his last strength to press out the unfinished word "late".
When the little girl with a heart transplant hummed the melody of his love while wearing a star pendant, and when the building's glass curtain wall reflected the star map he drew, this love that began with candy and ended with a heartbeat would eventually carve regrets into the bones and blood - it turns out that some proximity is like a moth flying towards the light that burns the body, and the ultimate romance is a guardian poem written with death.
