In the early years of the Republic of China, Su Zhilan was born into a family of intellectuals in Shanghai. In this turbulent era, one side of Shanghai is singing and dancing, and the other side is surrounded by enemies. No one knows when this prosperous and glorious world will be awakened by the sound of war guns.
Revolutionary thoughts one after another, waves of worker-student movements, exploded like spring thunder, awakening people's sleeping minds.
To avoid the war, my mother sent me to my hometown for foster care, a quiet small town in the south of the Yangtze River where I could forget about the world. In this small town, I met the man who I will never forget throughout my life. The love-hate entanglement with him that lasted for more than ten years was no match for the erosion of time and the secular world. . .