In a port city filled with sea breeze, paper dust floats in the early morning sky accompanied by the smell of ink, and steel rails stretch on the muddy ground toward the unknown. The young typesetter Zhou Yuncheng, a silk-making boy who fell out of his family, fell into the world of typeface in the printing shop; the young girl Shen Yuzhu, an apprentice who sang ditty in the teahouse, used sounds and words to create a way out for herself. From 1911 to 1937, trends changed, with the military and police intertwined with chambers of commerce, workers and students, foreign businessmen and local businesses. Selfishness and righteousness collide in the corner of the alley, and the marriage certificate and the sound of gunshots are separated by the sheets of paper where the ink is still wet. The clicking sound of the printing press is like a heartbeat, and like the hard sound at the joints of the railway rails, beating constantly in their fate. The story spans revolution, warlords, strikes and artillery fire, describing how they recognized, fell in love and lost each other in the cracks, and how they found a glimmer of light to settle down between the paper ashes and the railway tracks.
