In Shanghai in 1925, the smoke on the river was like mist, and the whistling of the wharf and the roar of the printing press intertwined into the background noise of the times. Xu Yansheng, a young typesetter, came to the metropolis from rural Anhui with typeface between his fingers and confusion about the future; Lin Qiu, a female student, ran between the classroom and the streets, using her pen to record the world she thought she could see clearly; Duan Shaochen, who was born in a warlord family, changed from military uniforms to suits, carrying the pass of the new regime and the shadow of the old forces, wandering in banks, factories and social circles. Mother Qin, a woman who made a living from an old-fashioned brothel, learned to protect others and herself in the turmoil.
They met on the same riverside, and were pulled by the tide: the May 30th gunfire, the April 12th Party Purge, the fire in the cotton spinning mill, the hunger and lights of the isolated island years, the roar of the Anti-Japanese War, the cheers and aphasia of liberation, the trial and silence after liberation. Every time the social beat falls, it is a shock in the heart. Their love and hate, cowardice and bravery are all forced to come to the table. The gray light on the river shines from before dawn until night, shining on everyone's face and revealing the uncut wrinkles in human nature.
