The book tells the story: Every August 16th, at the same time, she would repeat this journey, take the same ferry, arrive at the same island, visit the same flower stall, and come to the same place under the same scorching sun. In the dilapidated cemetery, a fresh bunch of gladioli was placed in front of the mother's grave. The lonely and free man on the island used all his strength to hold the hand of fate that night, as if he was on the edge of a cliff.
本书讲述：每年八月十六日同一时刻，她都要重复这趟旅程，乘坐同一班渡轮，抵达同一座岛上，光顾同一家花摊，顶着同样的似火烈日，来到同一处破败的墓地，将一束新鲜的剑兰放到母亲的坟前。在岛上孤独而自由的人，这一晚用尽全身力气紧紧握住命运的手，就好像自己身处悬崖的边缘。
本书讲述：每年八月十六日同一时刻，她都要重复这趟旅程，乘坐同一班渡轮，抵达同一座岛上，光顾同一家花摊，顶着同样的似火烈日，来到同一处破败的墓地，将一束新鲜的剑兰放到母亲的坟前。在岛上孤独而自由的人，这一晚用尽全身力气紧紧握住命运的手，就好像自己身处悬崖的边缘。
