Shu Yaoyao's hand has been steady for ten years. Where the welding gun fell, the rust hole was closed and the iron sheet was as good as new. She thought that craftsmanship could fix everything, until she met Lin Du in an old factory on the outskirts of the city - the man with whom she once shared a bowl of instant noodles and shared a leaky roof. He stood under the roof she had repaired, pointing to the newly seeped water marks: "The hole you patched is leaking again."
The rust on a tin house can be repaired by welding repeatedly, as long as the iron sheet is still there, the welding gun is hot enough, and the craftsmanship is good enough. But no matter how good your craftsmanship is, the rust underneath the emotional rift cannot be removed. They survived the poverty and cold winter in the tin house, but in the spring when life got a little warmer, they each became rusty.
He wanted stability and a house that did not leak. She was obsessed with craftsmanship and wanted to weld all the broken pieces back to the original state. When the newly welded thin plates rusted through again in the rainy season, and when the hot welding slag burned the plates and accelerated their aging, they finally understood: some holes will not leak unless they are welded; some people will not end after loving them.
