Exterior city street dusk
The setting sun dyes the glass walls amber. Traffic flows like a slow-moving galaxy.
On the sidewalk, 45-year-old Li Ming and 42-year-old Wang Li were walking side by side. They kept a polite distance between them—just enough to pass a third person.
Li Ming wore a well-tailored dark gray suit, and the wedding ring on his left ring finger reflected slightly in the twilight. His steps were precise, each step measured with a ruler.
The hem of Wang Limi's white knitted cardigan swings gently with her steps. Her right hand subconsciously protected the handbag, half of the painting tube was exposed inside.
The two stopped at a red light.
Li Ming glanced at his watch - this was the seventh time today.
Wang Li's gaze swept across her husband's face and stopped at his slightly frowned eyebrows. Her lips moved, but in the end she said nothing.
The green light comes on.
Li Ming took steps. Wang Li was half a beat late. The "third person" distance between them appears again.
A sprinkler truck slowly drove by, playing a modified version of "Für Elise." The water mist reflects a small rainbow in the sunset.
Wang Li stopped, took out her mobile phone from her handbag, and took pictures of the rainbow.
Li Ming took five steps and realized that his wife had not followed. He turned around, his expression unclear in the backlight.
Li Ming's voice-over (middle-aged, calm but tired):
"They say marriage has the seven-year itch. We've had six seven-year itch, so we should be immune."
Wang Li's voice-over (gentle, like frayed silk):
"It's not your skin that's itching, it's a place in your heart that's just out of reach. You know that
