At the Jixiang Theater in early autumn, Yu Qinghuan, with her sleeves fluttering on the stage, had a startling glance at Jiang Mingchen in the box. Xiafeilu came to the rescue and stayed together late at night at the Carlton Ballroom. The two souls gradually came closer to each other amid the sound of sandalwood and records. However, the identity of an actor cannot be tolerated in the Jiang family ancestral hall, and the flames of war sweep across even more mercilessly - when the shells fall, the morphine injection on the dressing table trembles with the air-raid sirens.
Amidst family resistance and the torrent of the times, Yu Qinghuan described Farewell My Concubine's face as she encountered an accident, and her temples were stained with blood. In the autumn rain of 1946, Jiang Mingchen picked up half a piece of green leaves from the ruins. The three characters "Yu Qinghuan" newly engraved on the merit stele of Fahua Temple were gradually stained with fragrant ashes. In the jazz sound of Paramount, the melodies of Mei Lanfang and Beethoven blend in the dust, like a footnote to this deep and shallow love - not only the joys and sorrows of personal destiny, but also a true portrayal of countless small lives in the great era.
