We are used to identifying ourselves in the mirror.
But have you ever thought that the reflection on the other side of the mirror may not be a reflection of nothingness? When overtime becomes the norm, and when the pressure of reality blurs the boundaries between sobriety and exhaustion, some "existence" that is shielded by daily logic may quietly penetrate.
This is not a distant legend, it lies dormant in an empty office at two o'clock in the morning, lurks at the end of a dimly lit corridor, and hides in that mirror that you never noticed but was "always there". It imitates you, observes you, learns from you... Until a certain critical point, it may wonder, why does it have to stay there?
When your reflection begins to have a will of its own, are you still the only "you"?
Please follow Li Xiang and step into this nightmare that started with an old mirror. There are no cheap jump scares here, just slow-growing, cold fear soaked in realistic details. It's about exhaustion, about stress, about the gradual disintegration of self-perception in the persistence of loneliness. Be careful with every shadow you cast - it might be waiting to trade places with you.
Can. . . .