The aftermath of the late Qing Dynasty has not yet settled, and the morning fog has not cleared up in the small town in the south of the Yangtze River, when new sounds are heard from afar. Lin Zhuguang, a scholar with an ordinary background, hesitated on the threshold of the abolishment of the imperial examination; Su Xiuying, a woman who grew up among looms, longed to go far in an era when her footsteps were restricted. New Army artillery drills, foreign schools, camera darkrooms, cotton yarn flying catkins, papyrus leaflets, railway tracks and ships, dance halls and gunfire, they meet and miss each other again and again in the gaps of the times, looking for their own place between closeness and alienation. From the sound of lapping at the river port to the neon lights of Shili Foreign Market, from village public discussions to street trends, they saw each other and the folds of society. The novel outlines the characters' choices and costs in a realistic way, showing the delicate intertwining of folk life and the destiny of the country: how a sensitive scholar uses paper, ink and machines to find a way out; how a woman who does not want to be bound by fate breaks through the darkness with the cocoon of her palms and the light of her eyes; and how an officer stationed in a border town wanders between the coldness of the gun and the warmth of nostalgia. Every time the tide surged, they were pushed to the front or to the side, but they never forgot the sound of the river wind and the reeds - that sound reminded people that history is not the fluttering of the flag, but the breath and patience of thousands of people. When the wind blows, the reeds are more flexible than hard, and their sound is small but powerful through the water.
