When the ceiling lights of the Coliseum suddenly went out, He Li heard the soft sound of a colorful rope breaking from the auditorium. The SARS-era mask blocked the raised corners of her mouth, but it couldn't block the stars flowing in her eyes. When a cappella fishing song sounded in the darkness, someone in the shadows of the last row was pressing the stump of a stuffed bear into his chest. The moment the big screen on the stage accidentally lit up, the court photos from twenty years ago overlapped with the concert photos that night: the phoenix flower when his mother set the fire bloomed on the buckle of He Li's cheongsam tonight.
Concept: Bi Ling stood in the backlight, with half a psychiatric prescription sheet exposed from his suit pocket, and his eyes were staring at the faded colorful rope on her wrist.