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Seventeen years ago, by Jinghu Lake, behind the rain of parasol trees, she asked him, how long will we be together? He said, three years, five years, with good luck, or a lifetime. Crying with him, making him laugh, watching his tall buildings rise from the ground, but she fell heavily into the Mariana Trench and was hard to find again. She lit up his world like a ray of light. She is confused, petty and bad-tempered. She is like his hands, she has become an inseparable part of him. However, because she loves her most, she is used to using these hands to resist harm. When he saw her again, the girl who once smashed plates at him was polite but distant. When it comes to the autumn rain in the phoenix trees again, the waiting year after year finally turns into overwhelming anger. But there was a Nunuo voice, uncle, give me half of the house, and I will share my mother with you. . . .