There was only one sentence in Zhou Yanli's will: "Please donate my body to Dr. Shen for research - she always said she couldn't see through my heart." He returned from the refugee camp where shrapnel was flying, clutching the blood-stained photos of his parents' remains in his hands. His family scolded him for his self-destruction, but for him, every time he saved a child, he was filling the hole left by no one to save his parents when they were in a plane crash.
"I remember you, Shen Zhiwei. I know everything about you and my sister joining forces back then."
"Zhou Yanli, the shrapnel can be removed, but the bullet in your heart called 'guilt' - it's stuck at the place where your parents stopped breathing. Doesn't it hurt?"
The smiling grandfather took his place behind the surveillance camera, waiting for the next turn of events.
Zhou Yanli returned to the field hospital, and Shen Zhiwei suddenly put a stethoscope on his ear, "Listen to this wasteland - our hate lies underground, and our love dances on the ground."
Purpose: On the ruins of blood, fire and machinations, only love and professionalism can sew up the bullet holes in the soul.