Shanghai, 1930.
Shen Duyin, a female detective in the French Concession, is assigned a bizarre case: the victim wears a smile, and beside her ear lies a withered flower that died fifty years ago.
There is no murderer, only a copper bell and a chime that rings punctually at three in the morning.
She believes in neither ghosts nor gods, only evidence. Then, the instant she touches the withered flower, flames rise from her fingertips.
Antique dealer Xie Wujiao tells her this is no murder, but karma: a debt from three hundred years ago, to be repaid in this life.
Shen Duyin thinks he’s talking nonsense, until she realizes that every glimpse of the truth costs her a memory.
Until she realizes that the man who is always grinning has an old scar on his left wrist, and has shielded her far too many times.
Until she realizes that every clue points to her mother, who disappeared fifteen years ago.
“You owe me a life. From our last life.”
“Then I’ll repay you in this one.”
“My hand remembers you. It doesn’t want to let go.”
