Winter, seventeenth year of the Republic of China.
The snow in Shanghai is thin and cold, falling on the spiers of the Western buildings on the Bund, on the whistles on the Huangpu River, and on the gray tile eaves along the Suzhou River, like a layer of unresolved sorrow.
Some people say that the sentiments of the Republic of China were stained with blood and fire.
To love someone, you should love someone before the guns are fired, before the mountains and rivers are shattered, before the eyebrows are clear, and before the rest of your life lasts.
But unfortunately, they met in the most chaotic years, fell in love in the most dangerous situation, and stayed together in the most impossible world.
The water in the south of the Yangtze River can nurture the softest people; the wind in Shanghai can break the truest feelings.
Her name is Su Qinghuan, and she is a famous embroiderer in the city of Suzhou. With one hand of Su embroidery, she can embroider the spring river, flowers and moon, and also embroider half the joys and sorrows of a lifetime.
His name is Lu Yanchen. He is the youngest marshal of the Beiyang Department. He has been overseas for three years. He is dressed in military uniform, holds military power, and has cold eyebrows. He is a person that everyone in Shanghai respects, but no one dares to approach.
An escape from disaster, a chance encounter, a surprising glimpse in troubled times.
From then on, Su Qinghuan's embroidered clothes had a tall and straight figure; Lu Yanchen's military career had a soft fragrance from the south of the Yangtze River.
It's just that they didn't understand at that time that love in the Republic of China could never be controlled by others.
The body cannot be controlled by oneself, the emotions cannot be controlled by oneself, and the life cannot be controlled by oneself.
