Zhong Ling thought he would never see Shen Yan again in this life.
That summer when he was seventeen, he carved "Zhong Ling Yu Xiu, Inkstone Dye San Sheng" on the beam of her dyeing shop, and then disappeared completely. When we meet again eight years later, he is wearing a suit and leather tie, holding a multi-million dollar cultural tourism project, and talking about "business efficiency" and "return on investment."
And she is the last fool in Dyefang Street who is still dyeing cloth using ancient methods. The roof leaked, Grandpa couldn't remember her, and the orders were very few.
Shen Yan said, let me help you. Zhong Ling said, you go.
But the half-washed impatiens tattoo behind his left ear was as red as an unhealed wound. She recognized the color she dyed.
When the "atonement pattern" on the fragments of the Ming Dynasty sachet was deciphered, when the yellowed letter beside the dye vat said "Wait for me for three years", when the black hands of capital reached into this century-old street - Zhong Ling discovered that some people had not left, but had carried all the wind and rain for you, and then came back pretending to be nonchalant.
Plants and trees have their own heart, so why ask for beauty? But this time, she wanted to show him what it meant to "dye a piece of cloth for a lifetime".
