1937, Nanjing.
When Lu Huaichen left with the last box of cultural relics, he buried a gilt clock under the bell tower of Jinling Women's College of Arts and Sciences.
He said that when the war is over, I will come and get it.
He didn't come back.
2024, Nanjing.
Su Wanqing, a cultural relic restorer, dug up the clock while renovating the old campus.
At ten o'clock that night, the bell rang.
She opened her eyes and found herself standing in Nanjing in 1937 - war was approaching and the city was desolate.
And Lu Huaichen was standing in front of her.
"Who are you?"
Eighty-seven years apart, they lived in the same dormitory and shared a clock.
At ten o'clock every night, the bell rang, and she came through time.
At six o'clock in the morning, the bell rang again and she had to leave.
Lu Huaichen wrote in his diary: "She is like a letter sent from the future, which will be taken back at dawn."
Su Wanqing wanted to tell him: The batch of cultural relics you escorted arrived in Sichuan safely.
But she couldn't say it. Because once history is changed, he may never see her again.
And the time left to them by history is only eighty-seven nights.
