In the four-season folds of Beijing's Hutongs in the 1990s, two young people from a foreign land measured their friendship with the temperature of a kerosene stove. The fingertips that were rubbed when borrowing briquettes, the celadon bowl shared on New Year's Eve, the ice flowers formed on the leaky window lattice, the undeclared affection turned into aged rice wine. When the aftertaste of Suzhou Pingtan hits the northern wind, those gazes hidden in the veins of cabbage leaves and the concerns among the green dill vines will eventually settle in the long river of time into a koi carp at the bottom of a celadon bowl. It cannot swim through the worldly dragon gate, but will stay forever in the pyrotechnic dust intertwined between the morning and evening lines.
Purpose: In the folds of the times and the barriers of the world, explore another way of existence of hidden emotions - using the folds of life as a container to brew a deep affection in the daily life of fireworks.