"Leaves on the edge of the inkstone, dust on the paper"
In the restoration room in the old city, 18-year-old Shen Shuchen always talks to an ancient inkstone.
He is a genius who can revive broken ancient books, and he is also a lonely young man who locks himself in the old time. His parents died young and after his master left, the Duan Inkstone with "Yanqiu" engraved on it was his only thought.
Until one rainy night, the cinnabar on my fingertips rubbed against the scratches, and as soon as I finished a sentence, the inkstone suddenly became hot - and a soft voice exploded: "Ouch! It itches!"
The spirit who called himself Xie Yanqiu emerged from the inkstone.
He mistook electric lamps for night-time pearls and called out to his mobile phone, "There is movement in the little box," but he could casually tell secret recipes from the Song Dynasty that were not even recorded in ancient books. He could not remember modern objects, but he always kept humming out-of-tune Song lyrics when Shen Shuchen frowned.
Shen Shuchen originally thought that old things were the most reliable and would never leave. But this confused soul insisted on using clumsy sincerity to hit the closed door of his heart little by little.
"Book dust, the lipstick fruit in the alley is bunched up"
"The ink smells the best when you are editing books."
The light in the inkstone flickers on and off, like a thousand-year-old secret. One day when Shen Shuchen wiped the ink sticks that had fallen on the ground and put them back next to the inkstone, he suddenly realized that some things seemed harder to part with than old things.
The loquats in the old city are turning yellow, and the voices in the inkstone are jumping for joy. Shen Shuchen lowered his head to rub the ink and said nothing. He only felt that today's ink seemed to be moister than usual.
Intention: From a "little adult" who is forced to mature, he slowly transforms into a boy who can be awkward and excited.