Shanghai in the 26th year of the Republic of China was like organs soaked in formalin, both fresh and rotten. The tram tracks in the French Concession suddenly oozed light green slime, and everyone who touched it began to dream about the giant bronze eye every night. Zhou Mingxuan, a biologist who returned from studying abroad, clutched the brass gear his father gave him before he died, and discovered something even more horrifying on the dissecting table - the microorganisms in the mucus were actually imitating the growth trajectory of human synapses. When the patrol room's gun was pointed at him, countless glowing scales were floating on the Huangpu River outside the window, like stars crushed into pieces and sinking into the water. There seems to be a rusty machine hidden under the skin of this city, and they are all parts that need to be repaired.
