A Foggy Night in Shanghai

Shanghai, 1930. Neon lights shimmered across the Huangpu River, and the calls of boats rose one after another. It was a dazzling, chaotic city, where feuding tycoons, business conspiracies, street clamor, and the crimes of dark alleys all intertwined. It was a paradise for adventurers and a battlefield for strategists. Zhang Cunguang wore a dark gray trench coat and a wide-brimmed hat as he stood beneath a dim yellow streetlamp at the Nanshi wharf. He lit a Butterfly-brand cigarette, and smoke drifted slowly upward through the cold, damp air. The river beside him rippled. He narrowed his eyes slightly, his thoughts perfectly clear.