Xuan Mingyi only believed in two things in his life: the musical notation would not lie, and silk strings would outlive humans.
Xi Zhiwei only does one thing in his life: turn paper into roads, turn roads into nets, and use the nets to support those who have nowhere to go.
They first worked together in the warehouse of a defunct newspaper in Hong Kong. He handed over a manuscript paper full of secret music, and she used the printing machine to cut out three copies and sent them to three different addresses.
Then he went west and she stayed south. For the next seven years, they never spoke face to face again.
——
But every time, when the Japanese army chased him to the Miao village where he was hiding, when the secret transmission was interrupted in the mountain pass in western Hunan, when his strings broke on the way to escape -
There will always be a piece of paper with half a sentence written on it, passed to his hand from a corner where there should not be a letter.
