In a convenience store drenched by dusk rain, a cup of cold oden fills the air with alienation from the world.
Lin Xia's loneliness was like the undried lead dust on the drawing board, and her social phobia trapped her in a transparent cocoon until Gu Yan pushed open the door with the scent of medicine and the rain——
The handle of the umbrella is engraved with the dull pain of the old year "C&Y", the watch reflects the coughing and wheezing under the cold light, and the translation manuscript hides the cracks between him and the century.
He said that the eyes of cartoon characters should be like unsent letters, and the umbrella in her painting on a rainy night quietly spreads the Prussian blue foreshadowing. The walls of the museum are whispering, the restoration knife scrapes away the paint from 1897, and pre-war love letters and contemporary medical records overlap in the dust to form a prophecy:
**"Pigment will expire, but longing is like cobalt blue, the more it settles, the sharper it becomes."**
The profile of him biting the penholder while translating, the twenty-seven frames of her sleeping face that she drew after staying up late, the IV tube and the pen sharing the same trembling arc. The indigo in the cheongsam dyeing workshop on the Suzhou River, the gold powder leaking from the domes in Paris, and all the unfinished blue are saying——
Love is a stubborn molecule in the spectrum, a ship that travels through medical records and wars, and an eternity that still needs to be written even though it will fade.
——"You restore the letters from the old century, and I translate the poems whose days are numbered."
——"Let me be your last unopened tube of ultramarine."
Purpose: BG, OE