Designer Lin Mo wears a silver ring on his left hand.
No one asked her why she didn't pick it.
Until she met the piano teacher Jiang Wan.
There is a scar on Jiang Wan's right hand. It is very shallow and turns white when the light shines on it while playing the piano.
The photographer asked her if she wanted to retouch the picture.
She said no, "This is my piano hand."
Lin Mo heard it in the audience.
When she got home that day, she took off the ring.
"Your ring finger is two ounces lighter today." Jiang Wan said.
"What kind of ring were you wearing before?" Lin Mo asked.
"Thin circles." Jiang Wan stretched out her hand, "Where's yours?"
"Plain circle, ordinary style."
The two of them sat side by side at the breakfast table, hands spread out, without touching each other.
The marks were separated by half a centimeter and connected together by the light.
Later the ring was put into the secret compartment of the piano bench.
Later it was put into a coat pocket.
Later, the two rings were lying side by side, the bedside lamp shining on them, and no one was wearing them.
Intention: Two people learn to let go in the same trace.
The scars are evidence of the past, but they do not have to be shackles of the future. Between picking and not picking, the real difficulty is not to let go of your fingers, but to admit that "you can move forward."