A brass key, a city where the fog never clears.
Lin Jiumu, editor of the publishing house. Qin Lan, calligraphy teacher at the art museum. They were in a villa to be demolished. There was no struggle, only half a glass of red wine, a copy of the Tao Te Ching, and a key with the word "gilt" engraved on it.
Case closed.
But Lin Jiumu's daughter Lin Xi refused to recognize him.
She flew back to Jiangcheng from Berlin with a question that no one thought needed to be asked: Why did her mother die? She didn't know Qin Lan, she didn't know about the Luoguang Tea House, and her twenty-three-year-old daughter found that she actually didn't know the woman named Lin Jiumu.
She began to trace the origin of the key. No. 17, Cangwu Road, Liuguang Teahouse. Starting from this tea house hidden deep in the old city, the secrets between one woman and another woman emerge from the fog of Jiangcheng inch by inch.
At the same time, two policemen were watching in the fog. Lao Yang, fifty years old, hadn't gone home for three days, pretending to have something he couldn't tell. Lin Mo had just graduated, and life had not yet worn away the habit of asking questions. They closed the case, but they didn't really let it go.
Under the river mist, there is a deep love that everyone ignores.
Some people choose to die in love. Some people choose to find love in death.
Concept: pure love between two middle-aged women