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The green plums in the small northern town bear sour seeds in June, and Wen Shutao's destiny is soaked in the moist moonlight. When he was two years old, he was introduced to the Zhu brothers by his cousin, and the hourglass of fate had already filtered out three stars - his gentle cousin was the spring mist, Zhu Dichen was burned into midsummer by the scorching sun, and only Zhu Weizheng was the boy immersed in the heavy rain. The amber color of the streetlight was fixed on his brow bone, and his blood-stained knuckles wiped her tears, and he stayed in the folds of her dreams ever since. Time is like a cracked glass bottle: the paper stars stepped on by the six-year-old burst into fragments of the Milky Way, the grooves of the blackboard during the cherry blossom season at the age of ten are covered with fingerprint dust, and the scattered textbooks of the fifteen-year-old are wrapped in tampered star trails. They say she is the Milky Way that leaks light, but they don't know that every crack is embedded with pomegranate seeds stuffed by Zhu Wei, hiding the whirlpools on the dragon and phoenix cakes that were burned by his breath. Frost arrives in 2023, and twenty years of plagiarized trophies are shattered. Wen Shutao stood in front of the gilded word "redemption" on the medical certificate, and finally understood that the falsely accused dusk and the hovering pen tip were actually the needles that buried the thread of fate. And Zhu Weizheng's misty smiling eyes have always been the eternal coordinates in the frozen soil. At her cousin's engagement party, the crispy sound of rosin mixed with peeling sugar filled her ears: "Taotao likes me?" Zhu Weizheng's breath caught the tip of her burning ears, and the words "happy" in dragon and phoenix cakes melted into red marks in the palm prints. The green plums are still fermenting, the moisture of the rainy season climbs up the window lattice, and before the Milky Way pours in, all the stars are waiting to fall into their predetermined orbits.