A small southern town encountered a once-in-a-century blizzard, freezing the city into an isolated island. In the streets and alleys, the sweet smell of roasted chestnuts is the only stubborn warmth.
Shen Anshu, a girl who saved money to open a small restaurant to protect her grandma's last wish, rescued a strange woman lying in a pool of blood in the middle of a snowy night. She dragged the unconscious woman back to her rental house of less than ten square meters, cleaned her wounds with earthy spirits, and cooked millet porridge in a clay pot to ward off the cold.
When the woman woke up, her eyes were as sharp as knives, with an aloof coldness and an almost harsh sense of order.
Ye Duwei, a forensic doctor from the Municipal Bureau known for his strictness and mysophobia. She refused warmth and chaos, but moved her Adam's apple at the nearly perfect arc of rice grains in the bowl of porridge that Shen Anshu handed her.
One is an orphan girl struggling to survive in the fireworks of the city, carrying an unfinished dream of warmth; the other is a lone wolf walking in the cold order and bloody truth, with unknown scars hidden in her heart. The blizzard has not stopped, and unsolved cases are hidden deep in the old alleys.
When bowls of carefully cooked hot porridge encounter empty bowls that have been quietly hidden again and again; when the smoke of fireworks in the streets collides with the cold equipment of the forensic center; when the obsession of "pens must be lined up in a straight line" encounters the clumsy record of "the hair tie cannot be lost"... Two souls walking alone in the cold are quietly tied together by a bowl of uneaten porridge.
On an isolated island in the wind and snow, they are each other's only light. But does getting closer mean deeper danger? Is that empty bowl that was quietly hidden the beginning of a crack, or the warmth that has never been extinguished?
Concept: A lonely soul realizes two-way redemption