In Shanghai in 1941, cold smoke shrouded the neon lights and smoke of the French Concession. Su Qingran's pearl earrings gleamed coldly in the light and shadow of Paramount, and the cigar on her fingertips burned with a secret fire - she was an all-around material merchant in the eyes of No. 76, And a "nightingale" lurking in the military command. The Browning given to her by her mother when Nanjing fell was hidden in her sleeve, and the mole behind her ear remembered the appointment with her old friend in the flower shop.
Behind the coal stove in the green corridor, Luo Ningshuang smeared her delicate eyebrows with coal ash. She wore a short knife in the slit of her navy blue cheongsam, and the antenna in her hair was connected to Chongqing's radio waves. She stole the arsenal map of the Special High School, and the crescent-shaped scar on her palm ached faintly - it was left to save Shen Qinghe three years ago, and her father's dying words were always in her ears: "Whenever you meet someone wearing a pearl earring, trust her, but also beware of her."
The jasmine scent in the private room on the third floor shattered the disguise. Su Qingran's fingertips traced the scar on the back of Luo Ningshuang's hand, as if deciphering a dusty code; Luo Ningshuang caught a glimpse of the red mark behind the other person's ear, and suddenly understood the forbearance under the pearl earrings. When No. 76'S gun was pointed at the dock warehouse, and when the iron bars of the ventilation vents trembled with the sound of Japanese boots, the fragments of the two photos taken when they were students were finally put together - the "old friends" who were looking for each other had already become the sharpest knife and the warmest shield in the ups and downs of the spy sea.
