In Shanghai in 1936, the music and singing continued, and the undercurrent surged.
On the streets of the French Concession, neon lights and mist intertwined. The night air was filled with the smell of tobacco, gasoline and alcohol, mixed with the occasional whisper coming from the alley. This is a city where prosperity and corruption coexist, and the cracks in human nature are hidden under the light and shadow of drunkenness and dreams.
A secret private detective agency is located at the end of an inconspicuous alley. The door sign reads: Qin Tianjing Detective Agency. Qin Tianjing, in his early thirties, has a slender figure and wears a well-tailored gray gown. His eyes were as deep as the night, as if he could see through people's hearts, but they always had a cold sense of distance.
Qin Tianjing never thought that this night would be the starting point for changing his destiny.
There was a quick knock on the office door. Qin Tianjing opened the door and saw a luxuriously dressed woman standing outside. She looked to be in her early thirties, with slightly messy black hair, and the makeup on her face was blurred by tears. Trembling, she handed over a gold-edged business card.
"Mr. Qin, I am Meng Wanqiu. Please save my husband, he... He died in mysterious circumstances."
