Zhi An, Never to Burn Out

In the 1920s, Jiangcheng's streets were warm and peaceful, and Zhian Tavern held the everyday lives of people caught in turbulent times. Shen Zhian had spent half her life tending the little tavern, believing her remaining years would pass quietly amid the rhythms of daily life, until Lu Jinbai arrived through the rain in a black suit and hat. He was an underground revolutionary hidden among ordinary folk, a merchant's clothes concealing the flames of rebellion. For half his life, he had endured in silence, bearing the burden of his country and family. She was bright and strong-willed, raised in the ordinary world. A plum-blossom birthmark on her left ear marked her fate, and her gentleness hid a blade. Two generations of grievances had lain buried for fifteen years. One wrongful case involving their fathers, and three interlocking chains of cause and effect. The previous generation: love unreturned, a scapegoat scraping by, power and vengeance devouring lives, and passionate souls giving their lives for a cause. This generation: meeting to settle old debts, a love that brings them into conflict, falling for each other amid chaos, and parting at the end. Gu Changchuan wove the web himself, bringing death to two generations of the Lu and Shen families. Lin Qiuyue feigned docility, but in a world at war she was a pawn with no control over her fate. Zhou Mingyuan offered a heart full of tenderness, but died heroically protecting someone he could never have. Gu Manli had shone brightly for half her life, only to become a pawn in her father's game of power. They fell in love on the blades of war. They were the only warmth in a chaotic age, and the greatest sin of fate. At the end of the uprising, Lu Jinbai followed in his father's footsteps. Betrayed by someone he trusted, he fell on a blood-soaked battlefield. When the chaos ended, a great fire in Jiangcheng consumed the tavern and all its warmth. Shen Zhian survived among the ashes. She carried his child, but in the end lost the little one, her only kin. She rebuilt the tavern and lived alone for half her life, never again giving her heart to romance. Decades later, her hair white and falling to her shoulders, she sat amid the fragrance of tea and told the younger generations the story of cause and consequence that had spanned three generations. When the flames of war died, all living things suffered. Only she found a measure of peace in the years she had left.