The sundries warehouse of the Needlework Bureau is located in the northeast corner of the Forbidden City, sandwiched between the shadow wall of the Cold Palace and the abandoned flower room. It rarely sees the sun all year round.
Deshun has been in charge here for twelve years. He is in charge of the most useless things in the palace: waste lamp wicks, bald dusters, and charcoal residue that cannot be burned through. He walked silently, with a slightly hunched back and no color on his face. But the neatly trimmed nails are the only part of the body that still retains some rules.
Sister Wan is the little maid who looks after the stove in the dessert room. Seventeen years old, few words and slow hands. After being beaten, he was punished with three pounds of old cotton. He pulled out a ball of yellow cotton wool and handed it over. She thanked her, but he didn't respond. Two silent people met in the quietest corner of the palace wall.
Later she came often. He roasted ginger slices, and she brought sugary dregs. After the sugar melted and wrapped around the ginger, he handed her the first piece. Take a bite, it's sweet and spicy, and the heat rushes from the base of your tongue to your stomach.
It rained for more than ten days that autumn. She huddled in his duty room, shivering from the cold. He put the old cloak on her shoulders, she leaned over and put her ear against his chest - flat, without any fluctuation. But she heard her heartbeat, slow and heavy, like the sound of a clapper beating in the distance. His hand fell on her hair, not stroking it, just resting it.
Later he left the palace. She is still in the palace. Make sugar alone, walk alone, and look at the moon alone.
But she didn't wait. She just tried her best to walk outside the palace wall step by step.
Concept: In the rain all our lives, we are the eaves of each other.