Shanghai in 2020 is like a never-ending piano, playing different movements on every street corner. Chen Luolin, who came out of a mountain village in Guizhou, stood under an overpass in Lujiazui with his guitar on his back and felt the hustle and alienation of the city for the first time. He believed that the music contained the morning fog in his hometown, the croaking frogs in the rice fields, and the innocence he was reluctant to abandon. Li Yi's beauty shop is located under the plane trees in the French Concession, and the glass windows reflect the shadows of hurried pedestrians. She uses exquisite bottles and jars to construct her imagination of the future - stable, decent, and traceable.
Two parallel lines intersected in a convenience store on a rainy day. She bought the melody note he wrote casually, and he tasted the sweetness hidden in the hot coffee she handed him. In two years, they used their respective warmth to fill each other's imperfections, but gradually different shapes grew between the mountains of Guizhou and the buildings of Shanghai. When Li Yi put on someone else's wedding dress, Chen Luolin finally finished writing the unfinished song. The song was not about reunion, but about gratitude for being so close to her so seriously. Some loves will eventually go their separate ways, just like two rivers that merge into each other and then merge into the sea.
