He had waited for her for twenty-three years, starting from his first dream when he was seven years old.
In the dream, there was a woman, wearing a blue cloth shirt, lowering her head and fixing books. The face cannot be seen clearly, only the hands can be seen - the joints are distinct and the fingertips are calloused.
Later he saw a book at an auction in London and his heart beat as fast as it would explode. After three years of chasing, I finally got it.
He brought the book to her. She sat in front of the repair table, and the moment she lowered her head, it was exactly the same as in her dream.
But she looked up at him and asked: "What do you want to do when you come here every day?"
He didn't know how to explain it - what he was waiting for was not the book, but the person who repaired it.
I have been waiting for twenty-three years for someone whose name I don't even know.
But she didn't know that there was a bloody handprint hidden in the middle of the book. DNA testing showed it was related to him.
Blood from one hundred and twenty years ago.
A secret from a hundred years ago.
And the man in old military uniform that she dreams about every night——
Has the same face as him.
Concept: Every crack on the page of the book hides a story.