Yuzhou, located at the intersection of the Jialing River and the Yangtze River, has rolling mountains and rivers and simple folk customs. Chen Ma, who lives in the southeast of Yuzhou, likes to forget about the turmoil of the dust in his hotpot restaurant, even though his restaurant is the hottest in the hotpot street. After eating, he often likes to climb to the top of a certain mountain, among the sparse shadows of apricot blossoms, and blow the leaves until dawn.
Unlike the bustling hotpot street, Ye Tang in the northeast of Yuzhou not only takes care of the family, but also regularly prepares healthy duck that has been simmered for six hours, and sends some to the neighbors before it gets cold. It is only near midnight that they start to prick their buttocks under the shadow of the shaky lights.
Fire and ice cannot be tolerated, and the lights of Yuzhou cannot illuminate the road from north to south. The turbulent water flows towards the sea, and the only thing that embraces and helps each other is the endless river. In early spring, the shouts of the sesame soup vendors gradually penetrated the mud walls of every house in Yuzhou, and the chirping of cicadas shook the branches of the yellow jujube trees.
In the turbulent rivers and lakes of Yuzhou, Chen Ma gradually tore a hole in the flash of bright clothes, angry horses, boiling wine and splashing tea, as if with every step he took, the abyss was one foot closer to the horizon. The justice in his bones taught him to never look back...