In the late autumn of 1998, the overturned ultramarine paint in the art classroom started the bad relationship between A Dong and Katie. The son of a poor mechanic and the daughter of a wealthy businessman built a secret universe in an abandoned observatory. The gears of a bronze pocket watch meshed with the young man's heartbeat. French love poems and copies of "Water Lilies" were wrapped in taboos and palpitations. On a rainy night, the family's iron fist tore apart the nascent love. The flight to Paris that Katie was escorted to pierced the starry sky of Purple Mountain, leaving only the check stained with paint in his pocket to burn through A Dong for the rest of his life.
Eighteen years later, under the crimson lights of the nightclub, sales director Kevin was obsessed with the mysterious mother Sang Hong. The crescent birthmark on her shoulder blade coincides with the earlobe scar in her memory. Berlin Girl's perfume hides the top note of orphan resentment. The broken pocket watch chain burns the truth under the emerald necklace. When the scar of uterine removal cut off the hope of childbearing, Sister Hong dissipated into the mist before dawn, leaving only the pages of "The Little Prince" reflected on the subway glass.
In their twilight years, Lao Wang and Ms. Zhang reunited in a pile of oranges in the supermarket, and Monet's album and the Suzhou River Evening Bell weaved their last moments together. When the secret of terminal cancer falls with the ginkgo leaves from the urn, Sister Hong's face is revealed on the stone tablet in the cemetery, engraved with a French poem that spans sixty years - three time and space collapse in quantum entanglement, it turns out that all the unlovable moments are star trajectories that will never intersect in parallel worlds.
Intention: Love without getting it