The story of Li Luo and Muchuan begins with a clumsy confession hidden in an MP3 player and ends in a room packed with silent cardboard boxes. They spent seven years answering the oldest question in love: When the initial heat fades, what will we rely on to continue?
This story uses "the last night of moving" as the trial court and seven old objects as evidence to present a calm and affectionate dissection of an intimate relationship.
An MP3, which had recorded all his sincerity and anxiety when he was twenty years old, was her armor against the world; a pair of mugs, once filled with the warmth of her first "home" and the promise of "a lifetime"; a family photo, which once gave her the long-awaited belonging, but also became the shackles that trapped her in the end; a dog toy, which witnessed the frightening night she swore to protect, and also marked her life. The isolation and helplessness when she passed away; a crack on the plate was a medal of her professional value and a proof of mutual harm when the relationship was out of control; a stack of travel plans drew a blueprint for a shared world, but in the end they revealed each other's unsynchronized pace; a cold logo bag was an expensive compensation after his career rejuvenated, but it also became an epitaph for the complete dissipation of love.
"7 Years" is not only an elegy for love, but also a mirror. It reflects the rifts, fatigue and choices that can arise in every long-term relationship. It is written to all modern people who have devoted themselves wholeheartedly and been bruised and bruised, but finally chose to bury the past with their own hands and move towards new life.
Looking back, they were so in love.
But there are some roads that we are destined not to walk together.
These seven years, I certify.
Very real and very immersive.