A south wind blows across the river and sea, blowing out the lamps and lighting them up. The old-style families in Wuchou Town are ebbing amid the turbulence of the abolition of the imperial examination and the new trend of Westernization. Shen Yiheng walked from his study to the Shanghai Art Museum, carrying with him the worries and hesitations of his youth. He wrote names one by one between banners and advertisements, respectability and hunger. Lu Yuncen was the only daughter of an old trading company and opened a bookstore on the edge of the French Concession, swaying in the neon light that smelled of wood and gasoline; Gu Huaijin was a slender hand in the textile factory, her stitches and sweat constituted her world, and then she was seduced by light and shadow and walked into the set of the film company; Liang Fusheng stepped into the cotton factory from the river port, carrying iron on his shoulders, gritting his teeth and looking for an exit amidst the hum of the machines. For ten years, the pages of newspapers are turned, the street signs are changed, and the wave of the times hits everyone in different ways. The story unfolds between the fog in Jiangnan and the neon lights in Shanghai, describing their choices, mistakes, encounters and separations, as well as the wrinkles and pain caused by social changes in ordinary bodies. Some people put out lamps secretly, some people go against the wind, some people lose things and pick up others. Late at night, the past receded like a tide, leaving only footprints on the sand. Looking at each other, we both knew in our hearts: Someone must keep the light.
