On a rainy afternoon, the boy opened the door of the cafe. The sound of the piano came from the corner, intermittent, like a piece of music that could never be finished.
He taught him music, he gave him courage; he restrained his love, and he insisted on getting closer.
Until rumors spread, until the college entrance examination is approaching, until the unfinished song "Rain Lane" will always stop at the most painful note——
Some love is born written on the rest.
The package sent from Switzerland only contained a copy of Chopin's music scores. On page 23, there was an electrocardiogram, with wavy lines stopping at a position that looked very much like a rest.
Intent: Tragedy is not the failure of love, but the impossibility of love becoming eternal.