Amid the flames of war, she ran with blood-written evidence in her arms, laid an ambush with a straw figure, and pushed the hope of survival toward a child by the reefs, while she herself sank beneath the raging waters.
Everyone thought she had become a monument on the riverbed. Only Xiao Zhang, who learned to organize files just as she had, waited half a lifetime, guarding half a notebook ruined by water.
Then, in a hospital room in peacetime, two hands that had once held the same fountain pen clasped together again. She had transmigrated through time, and the sparks from those years of war had long since grown into the countless lights of home today.
One notebook, two eras, and an “To Be Continued” written with a life.
