Year After Year, We Cross the River, Then Meet with a Glance

I used to be an ordinary mortal. You call me a corporate drone? Whatever. But after I’m reborn, what should you call me?

After an accident sends Mu Cheng back to the past, the old warehouse’s pinball machine still bears fresh cracks. A blue glass marble is wedged in a crevice, like a tear that never fell.

He does everything he can to make up for his regrets, trying to reclaim the things he let slip away without realizing it.

Fragments of time gradually pile up in the old warehouse: a storybook with missing pages, a lamp covered in photos, a cookie tin where they used to hide homework.

But the lantern still has a hole in it, the cactus withers in the corner, and she is still missing from the group photo crowded with people.

Only at the very last moment, when he opens his eyes, does he realize:

Going back wasn’t about making everything perfect. The cracks that can never be filled are what youth looks like. In the end, they must walk toward an autumn without pinball machines, glass marbles filling their pockets.