"On May 8th, the sky was hazy. How many people's thoughts rose to the sky and turned into continuous drizzle, like transparent spider threads, floating in the wind and covering the city. And whose memories were stepped on by hurried strangers, causing little ripples."
A painting and a promise, the pace of time will not stop, and the siege of memory can never escape, apples and oranges, a simple story about them...
"Now, Orange, you know, I actually don't like sunny days, because sunny days are so beautiful and people have a lot of time to do a lot of things. But on rainy days, I become like ordinary people."