Her Violin, His Autumn

When she was told she had only four months to live, the gifted violinist Ye Yunrou chose to set out with her violin and a heart no longer afraid, bound for five cities she had never visited. She wanted to leave her final melodies in every place she passed through that autumn.

A mournful yet passionate violin melody struck the dejected young Fan Zhendong as he sat on a park bench. The player was a girl who looked far too pale. When the music ended and the crowd dispersed, he couldn't help chasing after her to ask, “Where will you play next?” The girl packed away her violin and smiled. “Yuncheng.”

One impulsive journey, a companionship with no return date. From early autumn to the depths of winter, from strangers to inseparable companions, Fan Zhendong became her sole audience, her temporary assistant, and a witness to her final journey.

Her unspoken pain lived in the music; his unexpected growth unfolded along the way. Some music is played for just one person. Some encounters are meant to teach us how to say goodbye properly.