Sunshine at Three Forty-Seven

A riverside art museum that has been losing money all year round hides the quietest tenderness in the city. At 3:47 every afternoon, a precisely measured beam of sunlight will fall on the empty west wall on time. Su Wan designed this light during his lifetime, not for profit or fame, but just to leave a corner where people who are running around in the world can stop and shed tears. Three years after Su Wan passed away, businessman Gu Yanzhi is still trapped in the world of mortals and longing. He is used to using ledgers to measure gains and losses in the world, but he cannot calculate the gap left between life and death. The god Yin Ling, who is in charge of the order of life and death, suddenly appears and brings a three-month bet: if Gu Yanzhi can prove that pain and longing have a value beyond death, he can see his deceased wife for five minutes; if he fails, all the joys, sorrows, and love in the world will be completely wiped out. The bet kicks off, and Yan Fei, who carries a thousand-year iron rope on his back, Kuan Feng, who endures the pain of the world all day long, and the mutant radish who clings to the blueprint of destiny, all appear one after another. They are all prisoners bound by rules, each trapped in their own obsessions. God can only see the cold lifeline, but cannot see the remaining warmth of the human heart. Gu Yanzhi sat and waited quietly, watching the light spot, and slowly realized: fate can be weaved and cut, and it can be remembered, hurt and lingered, and it is never within the established drawing. There is no fate-changing story, nor is there a reunion. The disconnection and reconnection will still leave scars, and the separation will be eternal. Guang still goes to appointments on time, and people learn to accept scars and imperfections. What truly transcends death is never reunion, but the lingering tenderness that remains in the world.