In the third year of the Republic of China, Linchuan Town was hazy with mist and rain, and the gas lights of the celebration class were as dim as beans. Li Yunting, the stage pillar, died mysteriously on the dressing table. Song Shiyin, the anonymous former executioner of the dynasty, sneaked into the theater troupe under the name of a handyman. In the sweet smell of powder and oil paint, he caught a glimpse of the troupe leader Zhao Sihai's hesitation, the make-up girl Liu Mei'er's frightened dodge, and the wandering expression of the gong drummer Chen Daluo. He used the stage as his game and his psychology as his blade. In the haze of the Republic of China, he uncovered the serial truth behind this "stage execution ground" like a cocoon.
