Huaixia Knows What I Mean

Seventeen-year-old Shen Yi mistakenly boiled her youth into an expired fruit candy. The locust petals scattered when the electric car suddenly stopped, the band-aids in the pockets of the military training uniforms carrying the residual temperature of the laboratory, the steps paved by the moonlight in the classroom on Christmas Eve, the sugar residue that I thought were buried by fate, in the end became the leftovers of other people's stories. In this grand yet silent one-man show, all the heart-pounding moments are misplaced montages. "It turns out that some people's gentleness is born like a prism. What you think is refracted is a rainbow, but it's actually just the broken light that splashes down when they look at the sun."