All things have animism. When enough emotion is poured into an item, an "object spirit" will be born.
In Mo Alley in 1998, a piece of blank rice paper that had never been written on had been sleeping in a drawer of an old bookstore for twenty-five years. Her name is Bai, she has no memory or story, and will soon turn into dust in the spiritual realm in oblivion.
Until that rainy day, a gust of free wind broke into her world. Feng Lingyao took her to see all the scenery in Mo Lane, and also allowed her to meet Yan Lingjin, who had just woken up in the cigarette paper shop next door.
Jin is a double happiness that has been treasured by the old man for twenty-five years. It carries all the old man's longing for his deceased wife and is destined to be burned out at the funeral.
Three lonely souls became each other's only friends. Bai used a notebook to record the story of Mo Xiang, Jin used smoke to recreate the lost time, and Yao led them through the corridor of the wind.
Love quietly grows between the three of them: the fiery Jin is willing to protect Bai with his life, the gentle Bai is eager to write a complete story for his blank self, and the free and uninhibited Yao wants to stop for someone for the first time.
When the news of the demolition of Moxiang comes, when the old man's funeral approaches, and when the gap of time opens in front of them, the three spirits will face the most difficult choice.
In the end, the smoke turned into a wisp of blue smoke, the paper carried all the memories, and the wind found a harbor where it could stay.
It turns out that the best love is not to be together forever, but that I will always remember you.
Purpose: Using the three extremely opposing yet interdependent images of "smoke, paper, and wind" as the carrier, through the encounter and love of three lonely creatures, we explore the "infinite value of limited life" - when existence is destined to be short-lived and parting is inevitable, love and memory are the only eternity against nothingness and forgetfulness. Real possession is never physical possession, but the engraving of each other deep in the soul.