Peking, Huaishu Hutong. Chang Guier has been pulling a foreign car for half his life, and the car bells are polished. Shuzhen delivered half of Nancheng's babies, and her hands always smelled of mugwort. Dayong repairs old books in Liulichang, and Xiaoqin loves reading new poems under the moonlight.
This is the most ordinary family of four, living a tight life, and a meal of dumplings is a great joy.
But in the autumn of 1948, a paper roll fell on Chang Guier's car seat. Since then, there has been a quiet "Mr." Among the passengers he took. The mooncakes handed out by his wife were filled with other things. Secrets were hidden in the middle of the ancient books repaired by his son. There were notes that should not have been left in the poetry collection borrowed by his daughter.
They don't know what the truth is. They only know: the city is here, and the home is here. Use the stupidest method to guard the most ordinary days. There was a lot of noise in the city of Beiping in those years, but the locust trees in Sophora Alley bloomed every year.
