Shanghai: A City of Sin and Mystery

Shanghai in 1929 was a city of glittering lights and lavish indulgence. It was like a beautiful yet dangerous woman, embracing countless souls who yearned for wealth and power, while devouring their consciences and spirits.

The bustling foreign concessions stretched for miles. Traffic streamed along the streets, and cargo ships plied the Huangpu River. Everywhere, old and new cultures collided. High-rises stood beside traditional longtang alleyways, while capitalists in suits brushed past scholars in long gowns. Beneath the city’s glittering surface, countless secrets festered in its dark corners. Lies, desire, greed, and crime spread like a plague.

In one corner of the city stood an old-fashioned teahouse called Tianqiao Teahouse. It looked unremarkable, but Long Zaiye was a regular there. He was a tall, lean man in his early thirties, with a resolute face and an inconspicuous Sun Yat-sen suit. An old pair of glasses perched on his nose. But look closely into his eyes, and you would catch the sharp glint hidden in their depths, as if he could see right through people.