That day, I signed a love contract with the person I fell in love with over a hundred years.
In the family photo studio that is on the verge of closing down, Su Jingyan has an unspeakable secret - she can see the remnants of the past in the old building. At dusk when Wutong Mansion was about to be demolished, she clearly saw a pair of lovers from the Republic of China in the viewfinder.
Architectural conservator Lu Shiyan found her and got straight to the point: "I can travel through time and space in photos, but I need the coordinates that your eyes can see." He handed over a contract, "Pretend to be my girlfriend, help me save this mansion, and I will keep your photo studio."
At first, it was just a give-and-take kind of deal. He took her through black and white photo paper and witnessed the joys and sorrows of a hundred years ago; she anchored the coordinates of time for him and restored those forgotten oaths of friendship.
It wasn't until that crucial time-travel that he fell into a coma. In his locked diary, she read the unspoken heartbeat: "From the first time I saw her staring through the camera, I knew that these were the eyes I had been waiting for for a hundred years."
And the pocket watch on her chest resonated with half a century-old wedding photo for the first time on a full moon night - the bride in that photo actually had the same face as her.
When the contract countdown reaches zero, we understand:
This encounter was not an accident, but a reunion agreement written by the lovers a hundred years ago using half a photo for the next life.
