In the winter of 1941, Shanghai became an isolated island. Lin Tieshi, the rugged Eighth Route Army reconnaissance platoon leader, was ordered to sneak into this magical city where neon lights and gunpowder smoke intersect. He took the pseudonym Mosheng, which means "silent survival." His "wife" is Shen Wenjun, a talented girl from the Chinese Language and Literature Department of Yenching University. She is elegant and erudite, and carries the legacy of her late father and a volume of "Yen University Hidden List" that concerns dozens of lives and deaths.
This was a collaboration filled with misunderstandings from the beginning. His hand, which is used to holding a gun, cannot learn the tango in the ballroom; her lips, which are familiar with poetry and books, cannot describe the blood of the battlefield. Underneath the exchange of drinks in the concession is his confusion and anger about the city's rules; in the dim light of the study is her protection and suffering of the secret of the list. They were forced to pretend to be a couple and build a life-and-death transportation line across the Shanghai-Nanjing Railway, surrounded by the Japanese and puppet military police, the Central Command hidden stakes, and the Japanese intelligence officer Kenichi Matsumoto.
In the four years from the outbreak of the Pacific War to the victory of the Anti-Japanese War, they transported medicines, instigated rebellion against puppet officials, intercepted combat plans, and guarded the fire of exile. Roughness and delicacy are sharpened in the collision, and intuition and strategy are complementary to each other to create a natural world. Trust is tempered in doubt, and emotion grows in crisis. When souls with different beliefs face pursuit, betrayal and sacrifice together under the roof of lies, a friendship that transcends tasks quietly sprouts.
This is not only a story about lurking and struggle, but also the tenacity of passing on the fire of civilization under the iron heel. It is the hand holding the pen and the hand holding the gun that clumsily but firmly hold each other in the torrent of history. In the darkest moment, they jointly guard the solitary lamp that never goes out.
