An exceptional admission led Lin Weiran, a 23-year-old newcomer to restoration of cultural relics, to meet Su Yan, a 38-year-old industry leader.
When we first met, she was an intern with enthusiasm but raw skills. She faced a cold and strict senior who cherished his words like gold. The celadon of the Song Dynasty and the silver ornaments of the Republic of China on the restoration table are their common language; the lines between the remaining pages of the ancient scrolls are the tacit understanding carved by time. Su Yan's concern was hidden under the cold and hard shell - it was the warmth on her hands when she corrected her technique, a black umbrella handed to her on a rainy night, and a cup of hot coffee left overtime at night. The age difference of fifteen years is a gap between the two people, and it is also a unique attraction accumulated over time.
Lin Weiran's gaze slowly changed from the initial awe to following and excitement. She understood the loneliness and persistence in Su Yan's eyes, and also understood the tenderness hidden behind the professional guidance. And Su Yan, in this young girl, saw what he looked like when he was young, and saw the enthusiasm and light that had been worn away by the years.
When the lines of tired silver ornaments take shape on the fingertips, when the thoughts on the rainy night are exposed under the warm light, the boundary between master and disciple quietly blurs, and the heartbeat that spans the years breaks out. They were in the cultural relic restoration room, repairing the cracks in the antiquities and filling the vacancies in each other's hearts.
But worldly vision, identity barriers, and other people's comments were like invisible nets, tightly entwining the two of them. They must not only protect those cultural relics that have been sleeping for thousands of years, but also protect this undefined love.
