A yellowed diary of the Republic of China, a silent confession spanning a century.
Xia Tong, an ancient book restorer, discovered a secret love letter from 1911 in the middle of a moth-eaten Book of Tea. On the unsent letter, the word "Ming Yuan" took root among the veins of the ginkgo leaves. When the same name appears on the borrowing registration form, the ink stains on the wrist of Gu Mingyuan, a senior student in the Department of Archeology, become a tide of repeated copying in her sketchbook.
She secretly drew the small light brown mole on the back of his neck in the cross-school class, hid the bloody wisteria handkerchief in the autumn rain, and added the last touch of gold dust to the broken pages of the century-old marriage certificate. It was not until the engagement ring was unearthed at the archaeological site that she was shocked to realize that all the heartbeats were history repeating themselves.
Five years later, in the art museum, the restored diary was as silent as a coffin in the display case. When the wedding invitation fell from her fingers, the bulletproof glass reflected two overlapping silhouettes: the girl holding a peepshow in 1911, and the girl holding a sketchbook in 2018, simultaneously burying her unspoken name into the rift of time and space.
Concept: Secret love is a trace in the wilderness, only you know it.