When Linxi was sixteen years old, in the dim light of a speakeasy bar (PDT) in New York, she opened up her world with half-baked English and a guitar. She never believed that love required anyone to change for whom - Eric could continue to be the lead singer of his innocent underground band, and she would never stop her flight to and from the Pacific Ocean for anyone. What she loves is never "being loved", but those living, stubborn and uncompromising souls: the male college student studying art in New York, whose canvas is full of unfinished idealism, but stubbornly arguing every night about who is more lonely, Van Gogh or Gauguin;
That old friend who always stood half a step behind her, silently cleaning up the mess every time she ran away willfully, was the first to push her away and say "You should fly further" when she finally looked back;
The Montana rancher, who had rough fingers but could gently tame fierce horses, taught her that some freedom must be rooted in the soil to grow;
The young family leader who controlled a billionaire conglomerate used a pen to destroy the opponents' proposals on the board of directors, but he would play an off-key birthday song for her at three in the morning, and only coldly said "hand slip" afterwards... They did not have to stay for her, and she would not trim her wings for anyone.
Some people accuse her of being sentimental, but she just finds it funny - if every relationship has to have a result, what's the difference between it and bargaining for groceries? What she covets is those electric congenialities, the ecstasy of suddenly falling in time with each other during an impromptu chorus late at night, and the ability to still hold her head high and laugh when she accidentally hears a song composed by an old lover in a record store after many years of separation.
When the last foreign relationship ended at the airport security checkpoint, Eric asked her with red eyes if she wanted to delete all the collaborations, and she threw the USB drive with the demo into the Hudson River. "What's the pity?" She turned her boarding pass and walked towards the customs. "Every note I sang has long since grown into my bones."
This is not a story about separation, but about how a girl lives every love as nourishment, and finally allows herself to bloom confidently.
Concept: She is not anyone's muse, but her own storm
