On a rainy night in Kunming, I just helped a Laotian girl out of trouble. Unexpectedly, the borrowed umbrella became the most expensive bet in my life. Her name is A Ni, she is soft on the outside but hard on the inside, with both light and thorns in her eyes; my name is Zhou Ye, I don't believe in love, but I hold a bunch of bad debts and a shameful past in my hands. Exes turned back, love rivals set up traps, cousins misunderstood, families from the two countries faced off, and even cross-border projects were blocked. She blocked me time and time again, and I chased her to the airport, to Vientiane, and to the door of her house. In the past, I would flirt, run away, and leave a way out for myself; later I realized that real love is not about being lively for a while, but about burning all the ways out and making promises one by one. What separates Kunming from Vientiane is not only the national border, but also prejudice, reality and the deepest uneasiness of people's hearts. This time, I don't want to win her, I just want to be worthy of her.
