Xu Qingan has known since he was a child: crying is useless. It's no use being thrown away by my mother, it's no use when grandma coughs up blood, and it's no use being called a "bastard". She lives her life like a scalpel - sharp, cold, and never shaking.
Wen Xu has also known since he was a child: some things are gone once they are burned. My father died in the fire, and my mother was guarding the flower shop and refused to move. He put on the khaki fire-proof suit and rushed into the fire without fear of death - he was only afraid that she would cry.
They made noises from the library to the operating table, and from the campus to the fire scene. When she was working the night shift, he climbed over the wall to deliver fried noodles, and a layer of skin burned off the back of his hands; he lost contact with the police for three hours, and she hugged him after calling him loudly and cursing him. She said, "If you dare to die, I will not save you first." He said, "Okay."
Later he actually lay on her operating table.
She cut open his chest and saw that the lungs were as black as her grandmother's - the cotton wool from the textile factory, the smoke from the gas tank, the smoke from the fire, the lungs of three generations, no one escaped.
The beep from the monitor lasted longer than the success of all her surgeries.
She sewed the fragments of his fireproof suit into the left breast pocket of her white coat, close to his heart. Later, before each operation, the piece of burnt cloth was beating - not the heartbeat, but the life that was not burned out.
Concept: The lungs of three generations have not escaped the smoke and dust. When she cut open his chest, the lungs she saw were as black as grandma. He was a firefighter and touched his left breast pocket before rushing into the fire - there was a photo of her there; she was a surgeon and sewed fragments of his fire-proof suit into the left breast pocket of her white coat - her heart beat against the scorch marks. This is not a love story, it is a story about one person sewing another person's life into his own clothes.