In the classroom of a key high school, the world of science tyrant Lin Weiran was always filled with formulas and incorrect question papers, until Jiang Yi, the "student scumbag" diagonally behind, who always drew little figures on scratch paper, crashed into her regular universe like a star that didn't follow its trajectory. When she was stuck by a difficult problem, he would use the perspective of painting to say "auxiliary lines should be as natural as the composition"; when he was stuck by the test paper, she would fold the notes into stars and stuff them into his pencil case.
From the friction in the classroom in the first year of high school to the side-by-side sprint in the third year of high school, in the interplay of wrong question books and picture books, in the silence of the starry sky observatory, in the worries of parents and the pressure of academic work, they slowly understood: It turns out that the best youth is when the top student is willing to break the rules for him, and when the bad student is willing to chase the stars for her. When the bell of the college entrance examination falls, those loves hidden on the back of the scratch paper, the ginkgo leaves in the sandwich of the notebook, and the unspoken confessions under the star track will finally be signed to the fullest degree under the sunshine of the same city.
