In 1929, the Shanghai beach was full of entertainment and entertainment. This city is like a beautiful but dangerous woman, embracing countless souls who yearn for wealth and power, while also devouring their consciences and souls.
The ten-mile foreign market is bustling with traffic, freighters are constantly flowing on the Huangpu River, and the streets and alleys are full of confrontations between old and new cultures. High-rise buildings and old-fashioned lanes stand side by side, and capitalists in suits pass by scholars wrapped in long gowns. There are countless unknown secrets hidden in the dark corners beneath the prosperous surface. Lies, desires, greed and sin spread like plagues.
In the corner of the city, there is an old-style teahouse called "Tianqiao Teahouse". It looks ordinary, but it is a place where Long Zaiye often hangs out. He is a man in his early thirties, with a slender figure and a resolute face. He is wearing an inconspicuous Chinese tunic suit and has a pair of old glasses on the bridge of his nose. But if you look closely at his eyes, you can notice that there is a sharp light hidden deep in those black eyes, which seems to be able to penetrate people's hearts.
