In the twenty-second year of the Republic, Shanghai is a floating city. The Shen family’s mighty enterprise is drowning in debt, with only Jincheng Bank left as a lifeline. As osmanthus blossoms rain down, their dying father’s words, “Whoever wins gets the Shen family,” tear away the siblings’ masks.
The iron-blooded eldest son, Shen Xiaochuan, has lived by the blade and hopes to turn things around with foreign capital.
The silk-clad second daughter, Shen Wanyi, wields her charm like a knife, with secret accounts and old allies in hand.
The black-clad youngest son, Shen Ziche, hides a serpent’s cunning behind his smile and vows to overturn the board and rebuild the floating city.
Power is a snare, love and hate are blades, and osmanthus is both fragrance and blood.
The scent of a 4.5-yuan egg pancake conceals the chill of a gun barrel.
An autumn-equinox shower of osmanthus blossoms drives the siblings toward the abyss.
The floating city has no shore, and the victor has no roots. Only heartbeats echo on.
They are the Shen family’s last warmth, and the rhythm that begins their love and hate.
