When I was 28 years old, I met an officer who was like a mountain on a blind date. He would say he missed me late at night when he was drunk, and he would push me away for responsibility when he was sober. Until the compass left by my grandfather cracked inexplicably one rainy night, he said on the phone: "Lan Lan, there are some things that are more important than us being together."
I later learned that the call was from the border post and the signal was intermittent. The "important thing" he was talking about was a months-long silent mission on the southern border with Mexico. What he wrote, "There are trees in the mountains, and the trees have branches," and the landscapes I drew, both became unwitnessed tokens of that long wait.
Three years later, when the city was closed due to the epidemic, he appeared again, and the only distance between us was the glass window of the military guest house. He typed out Morse code with a flashlight, and I understood it. It was...
Concept: fate, love, marriage, the heroine's growth and awakening process