Shen Du used to be a draftsman for a construction company. My younger sister, Shen Mian, disappeared after taking a taxi late at night three years ago - surveillance cameras captured her getting into the car, but not her getting off. He quit his job, bought a second-hand Sylphy, and started running online ride-hailing services. Every night from 7pm to 5am, I circle between the university town and my sister's apartment. At the same time, he was doing a live broadcast on a supernatural platform—not because he believed in it, but because he wanted to collide with it. If the collision is real, you can at least ask: Have you ever seen a girl who looks like this?
On the day of the crash, the passenger disappeared from the back seat. The only thing left in the back seat was a cell phone - active on a call. He picked up. It was his own voice on the other end of the phone: "Don't stop the car."
From that day on, his eyes began to see things that shouldn't be there - cracks in the rules. Every crack is a twisted chain of cause and effect: an alarm clock that traps people in a time loop at 3:17 in the morning, an unknown corpse that appears in the morgue every day, and residents of a residential building who forget the name of a relative every day. They are anomalies - the product of bugs in the rules of reality. And the "containment game" he was pulled into, while containing abnormal bodies, was also operating its own rules in a certain way.
From the ruins of a fire in an abandoned textile factory to non-existent platforms on the subway network, from the "other self" reflected in the mirrored office to the tree growing upside down deep underground in the city - what Shen Du needs to do is no longer just looking for his sister. He needs to identify the cracks in every rule - which ones are loopholes, which ones are traps, and which ones are the marks left by Mian Mian three years ago.
