When the Wind Fell, I Waited for You in Dali

[Contemporary romance + safeguarding intangible cultural heritage + slice-of-life in Dali + realistic]

The wind in Longkan Village, Dali, always carries the bitter scent of indigo plants. As Shu Qiuyue crouches beside the dye vat, tying threads, Zhang Zehai gathers the flakes of plaster knocked off the wall by the construction crew into a plastic bag.

No one knows that He Hongbing's business plan marks the street-facing wall of the tie-dye workshop as the “entrance to the cultural tourism complex.” No one notices that, in the crack of the old dye vat beneath Chen Xiangjun's surveying instrument, the fingernail marks left by Grandma Duan's father-in-law are still embedded.

Adults hide their budding feelings even more finely than the crackle patterns in tie-dye: in the warmth of his fingertips brushing the back of her hand as he fishes a piece of cloth from the vat, and in her discovery that his phone wallpaper is a sunset over the workshop, while he lies and says, “I just took a random picture.”

But when the rumble of a bulldozer really rolls into the lane, Shu Qiuyue clutches the old dye recipe passed down by Grandma Duan and realizes that some things matter more than a fluttering heart: the old walls must not be demolished, the old vats must not be moved, and someone must protect Dali's blue until the wind dies down.