Wang Shilan's late-night bookstore is located on a not-so-busy street in Qichuan City. It lights up at eight in the evening and closes at eight in the morning. The account book was more chilling than the winter night. He calculated that the lamp could last up to five months. On New Year's Eve, a woman passed out drunk in front of the store. Jiang Shan, an algorithm engineer at Dachang, has a calm and sharp face on her job badge, but now she is curled up in the snow, like a fish thrown ashore by the waves. The two breathless people began to awkwardly observe each other in this bookstore. One cannot learn to live, and one cannot stop running. Between them lie broken childhoods, absent relatives, betrayal of friendships, and silent spiritual diseases in their respective blood. Is the light in the bookstore illuminating scars, or is it a possibility that we can sink together without suffocating? The dim light may not be the answer, but it is on.
Concept: Injury and pain, tears and songs in the context of the times