Twenty-four-year-old Su Qingyan, when she was at her lowest, inherited an old teahouse left by her grandmother whom she had never met.
The tea house is located deep in the alley, without sunlight all year round, and there is a lantern that never goes out in front of the door.
There was only one sentence in my grandmother's last letter: "After midnight, the show begins."
She thought it was just a joke, until the clock struck, and the dusty wooden door was pushed open from the outside by a cold, transparent hand.
——Welcome to Wangchuan Teahouse.
The guests here are not people.
They are dead souls lingering in the world with obsession and unwillingness.
What Su Qingyan has to do is to brew them a cup of "past life tea" that can wash their souls, listen to their stories, and exchange their last obsessions as tea supplies.
The infatuated singer who couldn't play the general's homecoming song, the young lady from the Republic of China who couldn't find the bones of her heartbroken person, the boy who was trapped in the fire and couldn't leave on the day of the fire...
A cup of tea, a story, a journey of forgetfulness.
Su Qingyan thought this was all her job, until she discovered that some "guests" would disappear quietly while waiting for tea.
A deeper and hungrier malice stared at her small teahouse and all the "collections" in it.
The dangerous balance is broken, and the rules that have been silent for hundreds of years begin to collapse.
In order to survive and to abide by the agreement with his grandmother, Su Qingyan must find the "poacher" lurking in the shadows.
She gradually understood that this teahouse was the end of the dead soul, but it was only the starting point of her destiny.
