During the more than ten years of the Republic of China, the river transport gradually receded, and the railway tracks rattled the bones of the city. The wind of Tianjin Wei blows over the flags of the concessions of various countries, bringing with it the whistles from the sea, the oil smoke from the alleys, the paper and ink from the newspapers, and the powder from the dance halls. Lin Shuyu runs the photo studio left by his father at the end of the alley. In the camera lens are the faces of officers, workers, dancers and new students. Outside the camera lens are the ties under the eaves of the family and the sound of the times. Zhao Liangchen is a young engineer born in Beiyang. He believes that railways can carry the new world, but he constantly calibrates his ideals in the mud in the countryside and the gunfire in the city. Duan Yufu came from a background of warlords, with rough habits and a tendency to read poetry. He clung to his gun and face between power and desire. Journalist Wen Hao balances the truth and livelihood in his writing, and singer Xu Yun sings about human affairs in the light and shadow. On a July night, after the gunshots were fired by the bridge, the people in the city were pushed forward. Some people choose to compromise, some learn to remain silent, and some keep their dignity in a weak way. From the northern wilderness to the corner of the concession, from the railway tracks buried in dust to the feasting stage, they illuminate each other and hurt each other, looking for a voice that will not disappear in the tide. This book uses delicate and realistic writing to describe the extraordinary fate of a group of ordinary people from the Republic of China to the early years of liberation. Rails and rouge, respectively hard and soft, are both the stamp and body temperature of the times.
