Advertising art director Xu Zhixia met Jiang Linchuan, an architect in the terminal stage of gastric cancer, at a convenience store. A box of fresh milk, which was about to expire, started a countdown collision between two lonely souls. The hospitalization bracelet on his wrist formed a cruel reflection with the church drawings in the sketchbook, the late-night painkiller instruction was mixed with the coolness of mint candies, and the starry fantasy of stained glass floated on the top of the unfinished skyscraper. When chemotherapy took away Jiang Linchuan's ability to write, Xu Zhixia began to collect his leftover hair, pill box tin foil and trembling sketches, casting every trace of illness into a hidden load-bearing part of the church's design. The heavy snowfall on Christmas Eve wiped out the seventh high chair that was always sitting in the convenience store, leaving only the unpaid milk cartons and organ donation cards. In the spring of the following year, the little girl who received a cornea transplant pointed to the glass dome painted in crayon: "In the dream, my uncle said that light will turn into stars when it passes through pain." In the distance, the unfinished church spire pierced the rain curtain, and all the unspeakable 23:59 was sealed in the nine thousand pieces of stained glass.
Intention: To pour eternal starlight on the ruins of life