The day the rent in Beijing rose, Chen Jianchuan lost his client, his job, and almost lost Qiao Ran, who had been with him for five years.
My father was hospitalized and his front road was severed. A 37-second recording that failed to be withdrawn pushed him onto the high-speed train bound for Wuxi.
North of Taihu Lake, a trial job, several failed projects, and a group of strangers with their own agendas made him and Chu Zhixue meet at their most embarrassing age. Some people stayed in Beijing to wait for him to return, and some people stood side by side with him through the fog; and the phrase "don't write it on the bright side" was slowly pushing the past accounts and their fate to the shore of the lake.
The fog will clear and people will meet again.
They will eventually understand that leaving is not to escape, but to reach the person who is willing to bear tomorrow together.
