Chapter 70

The spring and autumn scenes in “The Two of Us” together amount to barely over twenty minutes, less than a single winter scene.

Although shooting without snow would be considerably easier, his shooting order was reversed: he started with late autumn, then early autumn, and finally shot the spring scenes normally.

Since late autumn and winter are closest in timing, preparatory work had to be done in advance—like turning all the fallen leaves in the courtyard a withered yellow. Then, he hung stonecrop vines on the walls; these stay green year-round and wouldn’t look out of place. By adjusting the lighting and color during filming, the autumn effect was largely achieved.

Withered yellow leaves covered the courtyard, creating a sense of decline and decay.

The old woman wrapped herself in a coat without even fastening it, leaned on her cane, and shuffled toward Xiao Ma’s room—no longer the composed figure of before, but consumed by urgency.

In contrast, Zhou Xun squatted motionless on the ground, lowering her head only as the old woman passed by, then glancing once at her retreating back.

For this exchange, Zhou Xun was filmed with a static shot, while the old woman was captured with a handheld camera to convey her inner turmoil.

The old woman glanced inside the room—all belongings were gone, empty and hollow—and her eyes seemed to grow empty too.

She turned around, took Zhou Xun’s hand, and fixed her cloudy eyes on her.

The camera immediately zoomed in for close-ups of their faces.

The old woman’s gray eyes widened, filled with reluctance, her face creased with deep wrinkles:

“Really moved out? Really emptied out? Really emptied out?”

Her questioning voice, almost like self-muttering, grew fainter; her grip on Zhou Xun’s hand trembled, then she raised her voice one last time: “Really emptied out?”

In the frame, the old woman hunched over, looking up at Zhou Xun, who stood straight—her urgency, reluctance, and dependence now completely reversed the power dynamic from their first meeting.

Each question struck deep into Zhou Xun’s heart, stirring guilt; her former boldness and energy vanished, replaced by a stunned reply: “Yeah, we found a new place.”

The old woman said nothing, her face quickly sinking into sorrow, her gaze fixed on Zhou Xun—helpless, reluctant, her inner fragility laid bare.

“Cut! Perfect!”

This scene was a crucial emotional climax and turning point in the entire film. Wu Yuchen didn’t spare film, shooting it over and over until he finally captured the perfect take.

Wu Yuchen was genuinely pleased—not just because of this key scene, but because since everyone on set learned he’d won the Berlin Golden Bear, their entire energy had surged, their enthusiasm elevated a notch.

The whole crew was in great form, so efficiency naturally soared: he shot the autumn scenes in five days, the spring scenes in a week, finishing the entire segment in under two weeks. The next shoot wouldn’t be until June or July, when everyone could wear shorts.

In the meantime, he could develop and begin editing the footage he’d already shot.

That night, Wu Yuchen and the crew had another impromptu farewell dinner; after seeing everyone off, he wandered the street to digest his meal when his phone suddenly rang.

He picked it up and heard a weak voice:

“Wu Yuchen, I—I can’t make it…”

“You’re… Li Zi? What happened?” Wu Yuchen frowned instantly; the voice on the other end was barely recognizable.

“I just had violent vomiting and diarrhea—went on for nearly two hours, my stomach’s still killing me, and now I’m dizzy and seeing spots…” Ceng Li struggled to speak.

“Are you at the guesthouse?”

“Yeah…”

“Wait there—I’m coming right now!”

Wu Yuchen immediately flagged down a taxi on the street, gave the driver the address, and urged him to hurry.

At the front desk, unsure if Ceng Li could open the door, he asked the receptionist to come with him.

When Wu Yuchen entered the room, he saw Ceng Li lying on her side, clutching her stomach, curled into a tight ball, her face pale as paper, lips stripped of all color.

He didn’t ask further; he scooped her up and carried her out, placing her in the waiting taxi, then headed straight for the hospital.

In the car, Wu Yuchen called home:

“Mom, I’ve got a friend—might be food poisoning or acute gastroenteritis—we’re on our way to your hospital.”

On the other end, Zhou Shulan didn’t waste time:

“I’ll call right away. A nurse will meet you at the hospital entrance—follow her to Uncle Wang Li on duty.”

Wu Yuchen memorized the details, murmured thanks, and hung up. He saw Ceng Li’s eyes half-open, squinting at him. He squeezed her hand: “It’s okay—I’m here. We’re almost at the hospital.”

Feeling the warmth of his hand and the solid warmth of his chest against her, Ceng Li no longer felt lost and helpless—she had a refuge. A faint smile appeared on her face.

“Food poisoning from broad beans—nothing serious. I’ll start an IV, prescribe some medicine, and she should recover in a few days with regular doses.”

“Thank you, Uncle Wang!”

After seeing the doctor off, Wu Yuchen returned to the bedside. Ceng Li had one arm hooked with an IV, the other pressed against her stomach, her brow still tightly furrowed.

“Still in pain?”

“Yes.” Ceng Li nodded weakly.

Wu Yuchen turned to the nurse who had met him:

“Nurse, she—”

“Her stomach is spasming from the vomiting and diarrhea. She’s taken the medicine, but it’ll take a while to ease up.”

The nurse smiled at Wu Yuchen:

“Your girlfriend, right? Rub your hands together to warm them, then massage her stomach—she’ll feel better.”

Wu Yuchen looked at Ceng Li. She gazed at him pitifully, saying nothing.

He exhaled into his palms, rubbed them vigorously, then sat beside the bed, slipped his hand under her shirt, and through her thin undergarment, felt the warmth of her skin clearly.

“Here?” Wu Yuchen asked.

“A little… lower,” Ceng Li whispered, guiding his hand downward with her own.

Wu Yuchen’s hand settled on her lower abdomen and began gently massaging. Ceng Li’s hand remained on top of his, unmoving.

The IV drip fell drop by drop; the entire ward fell silent.

After a while, whether from the medicine or the massage, Ceng Li’s brow gradually relaxed, her complexion slowly returning to pink.

Ceng Li lay on her side, her gaze fixed on the boy still massaging her stomach—she was utterly spellbound.