The rain on Pingjiang Road in Suzhou has been falling for three years and three years. Mu Ran guards the small courtyard called "Qie Ting Xuan", sets up a street stall to sell calligraphy and paintings, and takes her son Xiaotian, who has mild autism, alone. He always laughed and joked about life, and the centipede-like burn scar on his left wrist was always hidden in his sleeve. No one knew that he was abandoned by his parents at a train station when he was 9 years old and grew up eating a lot of food; no one knew that he had a flash marriage and divorced at the age of 23 in order to find a "family", and that he had been prepared to "lose everything at any time" in his life. All his optimism is just a bulletproof vest he has worn for more than ten years.
The wind in Shenyang has been blowing for five years and five years. Huajiu locked herself in an apartment on the 32nd floor. The girl who once amazed the literary world with her first book could not even write a complete sentence. Her husband's mental violence was like an airtight net, crushing her spirit little by little. Only at twelve o'clock in the evening, while reading in front of an empty live broadcast room, can she be herself temporarily. That room with only 0 spectators is her only refuge.
