Ji Zhiheng's tenderness is the warm sugar-free tea, the sweet-scented osmanthus cake that comes along the way, and the heartbeat hidden in the celadon paperweight. He is a bit clumsy and doesn't say anything about love;
Ruan Xingci's joy is like the silhouette in the sketchbook, the bits and pieces in the picture album, the longing for a straightforward thought, the warm heart, and the longing for a response. Her work and rest were inconsistent, and her expressions were misplaced. Her quietness could not blend in with her enthusiasm. The words "I can't blend in anymore" became the coldest parting in the autumn night.
The winter snow has fallen, and the empty city wakes up. It turns out that it's not that the rhythm is out of tune, but that it's because we don't understand that silent love needs to be spoken, and passionate longing needs to be seen in the heart. We reunited in the ancient book library where we first met. The ink brush completed the unsaid feelings, and the brush repainted the time together. This time, the stars were in the same orbit and stayed together year after year.
Intention: The stars are in the same orbit and stay together year after year