Lin Jianwei has been dreaming about a long corridor repeatedly since he was nine years old. It was always raining outside the window, and at the other end of the corridor, a man whose face could not be seen clearly walked towards her.
When she was twenty-eight years old, she accidentally picked up the wrong box and finally met the person in her dream in reality.
But he looked at her and just said: "We have never met."
As the two trace the origin of the items in the box and the dream, the light in the old house that has been silent for nearly a hundred years is slowly lighting up again in the depths of the rainy night.
The flood disaster eighty-nine years ago was not over. Someone erased the names of the victims and left them forever in a rainy night with no dawn.
Purpose: The sacrifice of erasure should not be the price of stability for the majority of people; remembering the truth is the responsibility that those who come after us must bear.
