During the Republic of China, a heavy rain that had never happened in a century caused a bloody murder in a brothel. The old bustard died in the middle of the courtyard, with his seven orifices sewn shut with needles and thread. The case was deeply entangled, and the diaries of several suspects in the secret attic were accidentally discovered, revealing the dusty past of the eight women in the brothel. They were born in troubled times and trapped in the dust, but they each had their own pride, struggling, resisting, sinking and redeeming themselves in the quagmire. Those nameless souls will eventually receive a belated echo in the spring lake breeze.
Intention: I admit women's frankness or hypocrisy, noble selfishness