"Some words cannot be spoken, so just write them down; some letters have no address, but they will always be opened."
In the old city in the south of the city, No. 7 Qingwuli, a six-story old residential building is about to be demolished.
There is an old green mailbox on the rooftop that I don't know who put it there. Residents of the building posted anonymous letters - writing down their worries, confusions, and things they were afraid to say. No one signed, no one asked, the letter was put in, and it would be opened by another person in a few days.
The picture book writer on the sixth floor can't draw a work, so he puts the painting into the mailbox, pretending that someone can understand it; the divorce lawyer on the fifth floor helps others break up decently, but can't write a letter of his own; the girl on the fourth floor resists her mother with a failed test paper, and the only outlet is the same sentence written repeatedly in the mailbox; the shoe repairman on the third floor never writes letters, only opens them, because reading other people's stories can temporarily forget the son he has waited for ten years; the community doctor on the second floor takes care of everyone, but hides his own illness from everyone.
Five people live in the same building, but they are like five closed windows.
Until one day, a letter addressed to "all residents" appeared in the mailbox——
Those unspeakable words were finally heard.
This is a story about anonymity, letter opening and replying. About how a building becomes a home, about how strangers become each other's light, about letters without addresses that eventually find their way to where they should go.
Purpose: Healing
