Chapter 332: The Final Scene

At the end of July, the *Huang Jinjia* crew filmed their final scene on the Daba Grasslands outside Beiping.

Over 2,000 soldiers in armor were the protagonists; Boss Lu observed the entire process, clicking his tongue in admiration at Zhang Yimou's ability to coordinate such a scale.

If one were to use the exaggerated and *chuunibyou* definition of an "Empire's Hexagonal Warrior" as coined by the Japanese, the young director's shortcoming was clearly in this area of coordination.

The scale of the hundred-person crowd scenes in *Tangshan* was merely a preliminary attempt.

Yet, the crowd scenes in *Sky of History* involved tens of thousands, and the Olympic actors numbered nearly twenty thousand.

On New Year's Eve, Liu Yifei and Lu Kuan had made a ten-year pact.

If this massacre film was an excellent opportunity for a transformation in Liu Yifei's acting career;

Likewise, for Boss Lu, this was also a crucial link in patching up his own shortcomings.

Jiang Zhiqiang stood with Lu Kuan, who had just finished a creative team discussion, smoking and watching the "ten thousand horses hushed" scene on set.

"Wrapping up so early, you should be preparing for the preview screenings for the Oscars, right?"

This "Oscar" referred to the Academy Awards.

Jiang Zhiqiang nodded: "It's already been arranged, in both Beiping and Pengcheng."

"I believe the quality of *The Banquet* is not as good as the *Huang Jinjia* that you helped revise; I am very confident."

*The Banquet* would be submitted to the Venice Film Festival in September and released domestically on September 16th, making it Zhang Yimou's biggest competitor this year.

At the same time, the 2006 Oscar selection rules had undergone major changes; the original shortlist, determined from about 60 films submitted by over 60 countries and regions worldwide, was slashed to just 9 films after the reform.

This brought the number of shortlisted films for Best Foreign Language Film in line with technical awards, both at around 10 films.

Boss Lu laughed: "Don't worry, with Yanda Huayi's energy, *The Banquet* should ultimately represent Xiangjiang as a co-production, and *Huang Jinjia* will represent the mainland."

"Indeed, Yanda Huayi's moves this year have been quite significant. Does Boss Lu feel any sense of urgency?" Jiang Zhiqiang made a moderately sized joke.

News Corporation, represented by Deng Wendi, had acquired a stake in the name of a mainland joint venture;

Two major screen blockbusters: *The Banquet* and *Red Cliff*, produced in cooperation with Cheng Tian;

*Paladin III*, which was currently communicating with the State Administration of Radio, Film, and Television regarding the lifting of the "game restriction order" and intended to land on the Xiang channel;

Most eye-catching of all was the buzz in the industry that Ma Yun, the president of e-commerce giant Ali, intended to acquire a stake in Yanda Huayi, emulating the close cooperation between the internet enterprise Blogchina and Inquiry Realm.

Boss Lu laughed heartily, though he didn't make any grand declarations about "small kings and young masters being uncalculating" or "Ma Yun lacking wisdom," his tone remained modest: "The cake needs to be made bigger by everyone together; Inquiry Realm welcomes the entry of competitors."

"It has to be Boss Lu, what spirit!" Jiang Zhiqiang gave him a thumbs up. The two exchanged commercial flattery for a while before Zhang Dao walked over.

"Li Xiaolu, I've communicated with Zhang Heping; let's give the Olympic creative team a few days off."

"I'll arrange the post-production editing for *Huang Jinjia* and then rush to Jin Ling; you can just use these few days to set up the pre-production work."

Directors understand directors best; the trivial matters before filming start are far more numerous than after wrapping up.

Especially for a historical biographical film like this, the acceptance of sets and restored architecture, basic training for crowd actors, and the preparation of equipment and props all require immense effort.

However, most members of Boss Lu's core crew had come all the way from *Drummer*, and one could see their extreme professionalism from the filming process of *Tangshan*.

This was also the operational guarantee for the smooth progress of each of his films.

Boss Lu checked his watch: "I have to go back."

"Ah? In such a rush? If you aren't eating lunch, you at least have to come and join the fun at the wrap-up banquet tonight!" Jiang Zhiqiang and Zhang Dao tried to persuade him to stay.

"No, I'll go back to Beiping to prepare; see you in Jin Ling."

Zhang Yimou was straightforward: "Alright then, we're all our own people, so I won't stand on ceremony with you. Drive slowly on the road."

Boss Lu smiled and crushed his cigarette butt: "Alright! I'm off."

Beiping Capital International Airport.

The electronic clock at Terminal T3 jumped to 23:17. In the final international arrivals channel, a girl wearing a dark gray hoodie pulled her canvas bag up onto her shoulder, the brim of her baseball cap casting a small shadow under the fluorescent lights.

The crowd waiting to pick up passengers had long since dispersed. The wind rolled in as the automatic doors opened and closed, brushing against the back of her neck, startling her into pulling her mask up another half-inch.

The scene of the number one young actress in domestic entertainment returning like a queen after a year was quite bleak, all because she had emphasized to Yang Siwei not to make a scene or create a big spectacle.

After all, Zhang Chunru was traveling with her, and given the serious subject matter of the massacre film, they tried to avoid such entertainment-style hype as much as possible.

What could Yang Siwei do? Of course, she chose to support her.

What if the little princess got unhappy and quit on the various announcements arranged for later?

Liu Yifei had her mother leave separately with Zhang Chunru and Mia, while she left alone to avoid the itinerary leaking and being surrounded by fans, which would cause inconvenience to Zhang Chunru.

The conveyor belt emitted a dull hum. As the silver suitcase turned the corner, the Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet hidden in Xiao Liu's sleeve accidentally brushed against the metal railing.

The moment she bent over, a round-faced girl who had been "following" her caught a glimpse of the small mole on the right side of her neck.

"Xixi! It's Xixi!"

The scream outside the glass curtain wall pierced the silence of the early morning. The round-faced girl holding a small mobile phone accidentally knocked over a luggage cart.

Security guards on duty twenty meters away had just reached for their walkie-talkies when more curious young faces poured out of the convenience store, the sounds of flip-phone buttons exploding one after another.

The arrivals hall instantly turned into a boiling fish tank.

A boy in a school uniform had his glasses knocked off but still held his Sony Cyber-shot camera high as he lunged forward;

A girl in a duck-billed cap waved a signature pen, the notebook cover plastered with clippings of *Exotic* and *Bad Genius*.

The flight reminders on the broadcast were drowned out by the waves of shouts for "Lan Xiaolong Maiden," "Lu Xueqi," and "Blue Moon." Two ground staff members held hands to build a human wall.

The young girl looked helpless; the itinerary had leaked after all.

She took off her mask: "Hello everyone, don't crowd, pay attention to safety, it's almost twelve o'clock, hurry home!"

How could the fans be willing to disperse just like that? What a great encounter.

"Xixi, you aren't leaving the country again after this trip back, right? Why have you lost so much weight! We missed you so much!"

"Fairy Sister, when are you going to Jin Ling to experience life? I want to go and run into you!"

Not far away, Yang Siwei was transforming into an excavator, leading two assistants as she kept pushing through the crowd toward her.

Liu Yifei answered their questions as she walked, her face showing the fatigue and weariness hard to hide after a long-haul flight, smiling reluctantly as she headed toward the exit to meet up with Yang Siwei.

Until a fan with not-so-high emotional intelligence abruptly said, "Washing Machine said he was chasing you, why didn't he come to pick you up!"

Immediately, she was plunged into a vast ocean of people, subjected to all kinds of verbal attacks.

However, a certain name mentioned in these words was like an injection of adrenaline for the physically and mentally exhausted Liu Yifei. The young girl couldn't help but look around.

This dog thing said he was rushing back from the *Huang Jinjia* set to pick me up, where is he!

She wanted to take out her phone to call, but then thought he must have gone to pick up Zhang Chunru, who was acting separately.

Forget it, don't eat this vinegar.

Suddenly, a man wearing sunglasses forcefully parted the crowd and squeezed over, nodded and smiled at Xiao Liu, grabbed her suitcase, and walked away.

"Hey! Who are you! Is this a robbery?"

"Xixi, be careful! Who is this!"

Liu Yifei's face instantly bloomed with smiles. Following Afei's gesture, she saw a point of orange light behind the security door—a certain Washing Machine was standing in the shadows smoking.

The young girl felt at ease, a joy of an unexpected encounter.

"It's okay, it's okay, I know him, goodbye everyone!"

Liu Yifei waved to the fans, nodded to Yang Siwei and the other three studio staff members who were helping to cover the rear, and went straight to the security exit.

The Bentley rolled over the standing water on the airport expressway. When the headlights swept over the road sign with the three red characters "Dongzhimen," a rustling sound suddenly came from the back seat.

Boss Lu turned his head to look at Xiao Liu pulling her hoodie down to her waist, the red marks from the suitcase strap still visible on her glowing shoulders.

"Phew! It's hot as hell!" Liu Yifei finally managed to take off her mask and duck-billed cap, took off her shoes, and blew hard at the air conditioning vent.

Boss Lu looked at her bright red toenails: "Whoa! You really don't stand on ceremony, don't make the car smell later!"

Liu Yifei had learned to answer back now, taking the initiative to tease him: "Virtue! You got the benefit and are still acting coy!"

The young director gave her a thumbs up speechlessly: "If you're still hot, take off two more pieces."

"Get lost!"

The young girl's face was a bit thin; teased by him like this, she felt embarrassed to stretch her feet out to blow in the wind, intentionally changing the subject.

"Are we going to Jin Ling tomorrow?"

"Yes." Lu Kuan looked her up and down: "You have lost quite a bit of weight, are you afraid I'll say your legs are thick?"

"Lost weight, right? Then take me to eat something, I'm hungry."

Boss Lu laughed: "There's naturally food back at the courtyard; I already ordered Master Qiao to make some late-night snacks before getting in the car, enough to fill your stomach."

The young director saw that her mood was relatively stable, so he didn't mention the grievances Liu Xiaoli had complained to him about for the time being, so as not to bring her mood back into those sorrowful environments.

It's just that he deliberately didn't mention it, but Liu Yifei never forgot her current main mission for a moment.

This short mental rest was just the brain stealing a half-day of leisure from life.

Now, the Washing Machine was her spiritual opium; when the pressure was too great, she would take a puff to refresh her spirit and ease her heart.

"Why didn't you reply to the last few videos I sent you! I asked you to point out the problems for me?"

Boss Lu saw her bringing up the one pot that shouldn't be opened, and was straightforward: "Not bad, but many problems need to be created in specific shots and lighting environments."

"What you designed is just a one-person monologue; its adaptability in specific movie plots remains to be seen."

He hesitated again: "Also, I heard from Liu Ayi that your recent emotional and mental state..."

"Nothing of the sort!" The young girl raised her willow eyebrows, but the lingering gloom on her smooth forehead was clear.

"Lu Kuan, I just want to shape this character well now. I want you to treat my performance with unprecedented strictness, otherwise, my efforts during this period will be in vain."

"You will help me, right?"

Liu Yifei looked at him with a solemn expression; the martial arts heroine who had gone into a demonic state seemed to have already drawn her sharp sword.

If the old demon answered with even half a mistake, she would stab him right between the eyebrows with a single move.

Boss Lu looked at her at this moment, as if he saw Andrew in *Whiplash* who had beaten his hand until it bled, but was determined to hit the 400-beat limit.

It's just that the roles were reversed; now it was the student forcing the teacher.

The young director fell into a contradiction of reason and emotion.

Her spirit was already in a state of high tension at all times. If he continued to push her on set for the sake of a perfect film effect, could the young girl withstand it?

Boss Lu remembered Liu Xiaoli's sobbing on the phone, stating that her daughter was suffering from insomnia, hair loss, and weight loss, and asked him to be sure to help persuade her.

But seeing her today, it seemed that his words might not necessarily work anymore?

Lu Kuan beat around the bush: "I will be responsible for the film; you need to pay attention to the balance of tension and relaxation, which is also beneficial for the performance."

The young girl stared at him with burning eyes for a few seconds, her slender legs folded to the left on the seat, her kneecaps slightly protruding under the denim fabric, like two stubborn seashells embedded.

She suddenly shifted her tight little hips, tilted her head, and rested it gently on the man's shoulder.

When the center of gravity tilted to the right, the citrus scent of the girl's hair tips brushed past the young director's nose, and the man felt her cool, tender arms pass through again.

"Don't move, let me borrow your shoulder for a moment."

Liu Yifei said softly, then murmured like a mosquito: "You are afraid that I will collapse under heavy pressure, I know."

"But since I became an actress, I have really waited four years for such a role to make me... infatuated."

"But when I was truly immersed, I realized the focus and enthusiasm you had when you were editing the film until your eyes were sore and teary."

"When I was dancing as a child, my teacher told me a sentence—pain is your body applauding."

"And that sentence from Whitman in *Dead Poets Society*, I surrender myself to the soil."

The young girl crunched the peppermint candy in her mouth: "Sharpening a sword for four years, I have practiced the basic skills for four years, and now I want to surrender myself to this character."

"I know this is also your expectation of me; you won't deprive me of this right, right?"

Liu Yifei looked up, her eyes crystal clear, the appeal for support from the bottom of her heart made her wrap her arms around the man beside her even tighter.

Boss Lu's side profile intertwined with her gaze, his eyes complex and unclear.

He suddenly pulled his arm out and wrapped it around her waist, using a little force to make Xiao Liu fall into his arms, just like that day on New Year's Eve at the bottom of the Fox Radio building, facing the media of the whole world.

The man's broad chest completely wrapped around this warm, fragrant, and soft body, and the temporarily paranoid soul inside.

A beautiful feeling suddenly arose, the muscles around the girl's waist tensed involuntarily, tight and impenetrable.

"You... what are you doing..."

The temperature from Boss Lu's palm passed through her slightly thin silk shirt in the summer, the sudden intimacy made her feel a little shy and coy.

The young director smiled: "I said, I will be responsible for the film, but I will also be responsible for you."

"Art is not a one-way ticket; finishing an odyssey also requires a complete soul."

"You have no experience and cannot judge what stage you are at now; you must have me, the director, to supervise you."

"Don't think too much, just listen to me."

Liu Yifei struggled to speak, looked up, and caught a glimpse of his firm side profile, but didn't know what to say.

However, thinking of his seriousness and enthusiasm for the film, the young girl felt slightly relieved.

Their goals were always the same, right?

She squirmed twice in the man's arms, intentionally ignoring this intimacy that was not quite right, reluctant to leave such warmth and lingering affection.

She had to find a clumsy excuse: "Got it, I... I'm sleepy, I'll sleep for a while, call me when we arrive."

"Hmm."

Xiao Liu feigned sleep, the neon lights outside the car window illuminated her slightly thin side profile, and the young director finally smelled a dangerous fragrance from Liu Yifei's hair.

It was not the elegant citrus base note perfume on her, nor the peppermint candy scent she habitually kept in her mouth, imitating Zhang Chunru.

That was the incense she burned in the temple of performance, mixed with the bloody scent of the sacrificer. The blazing fire burning in Liu Yifei's eyes just now was both the magnesium light illuminating the screen and the karmic fire burning herself out.

Boss Lu sighed leisurely in his heart.

This fire was lit by him; it seems that in the end, it will have to be extinguished by him.

End of July, Jin Ling Hotel, Su Province.

"Xixi, shall Mom accompany you?"

"No need! Mia, don't follow me either, what danger can there be in the country?"

Zhang Chunru was also not very reassured: "Your popularity in the country is much higher than abroad, how can Mia not follow you?"

Xiao Liu in front of the dressing table had no time to look back, letting the crew's professional makeup artist operate: "I'll make myself up to look like you, Sister Chunru, then wear 90s clothes, bring a hat and mask, nothing will happen."

Liu Xiaoli was relentless: "Mom won't walk with you, can't I follow you from a distance?"

"No, you are so beautiful, the head-turning rate on the road is too high! The exposure risk is too great!"

"Go, this child!"

Zhang Chunru and Liu Xiaoli looked at each other. Seeing that she could still joke in a relaxed manner, their worries were slightly relieved, thinking it was the result of the young director's efforts to enlighten her.

How did they know that the martial arts heroine's intermittent "illness" was serious, and Boss Lu also had a headache about how to guide her.

After all, as Xiao Liu herself said, no one has the right to deprive her of this excellent opportunity for progress at will.

"Knock knock!"

Liu Xiaoli opened the door: "Afei, why are you here?"

The cold-faced bodyguard stood at the door without entering: "Boss told me to accompany Miss Liu today."

Xiao Liu finished her makeup and stood up helplessly: "Why is everyone so worried, as if I'm still some child."

Everyone saw that she had indeed completely changed her outfit, from hairstyle to clothing style, it had nothing to do with Liu Yifei at all.

Liu Yifei picked up her bag and was about to go out, the paper she shook in her hand still recording the target locations for these days.

"I'm leaving!"

"Xixi! Xixi!" Liu Xiaoli went out and called twice, then returned to the room helplessly.

After pacing for a long time, the old mother was still worried and dialed the young director's phone.

Boss Lu was at the restoration site of Jin Ling Women's University: "Liu Ayi?"

"Li Xiaolu, Xixi went out alone, she..."

"Don't worry, it's fine. The colors of the scenes in Jin Ling in the movie are relatively warm, I believe it will be a healing for her."

"I also chatted with her briefly yesterday, I will find a way to guide her."

Liu Xiaoli sighed: "Alright, then I'll leave it to you, Li Xiaolu."

"You're welcome."

The last bit of effort before filming, Xiao Liu's Jin Ling experience series blog was about to be updated again.

It's just that this time it was in the more lively country, and in the same city, there was Boss Lu who was inspecting the pre-production work of the crew.

The young girl's psychological sense of security was stronger, and that stubbornness faded a little.

Liu Yifei sat in a taxi, the locations for life experience were all the routes Zhang Chunru had walked back then in the script.

There were also a few survivors and descendants she had interviewed, all of whom had been contacted in advance by the crew as consultants, and given some financial help in the name of consultant fees.

Pingshi Street old house, the morning light just climbed onto the gray tiles of the old city south, Liu Yifei stepped on the bluestone slab and pushed open the courtyard door.

Mrs. Zhang had just bought breakfast and returned, her words full of smiles: "Miss Liu, you are learning from Miss Zhang and wearing a blue cloth shirt?"

"Can't tell who I am, right?"

Xiao Liu responded with a smile, looking down at the cotton-linen shirt newly tailored by the crew she was wearing—

This was the material chosen by comparing Zhang Chunru's 1995 inspection photos, and the same dragonfly brooch was pinned to the collar.

Mrs. Zhang looked at the big star signing for her and beamed: "Can't recognize, can't recognize, you are too much like Miss Zhang."

She led Liu Yifei into the old house, gesturing with hands and feet: "More than ten years ago, it was right here that Miss Zhang interviewed my aunt, and when she left, she left her more than one hundred yuan."

"At that time, I was sitting next to her watching Miss Zhang, and I felt her eyes were really bright!"

"The crew came yesterday and told me clearly that you were coming, oh my, it made me so happy!"

Xiao Liu nodded with a smile, took off her disguise in the house, and looked around.

On the Eight Immortals table in the old house were enamel mugs and bamboo-shell thermos bottles bought from the second-hand market, and floral pillowcases washed last night were drying on the windowsill.

Mrs. Zhang took out sweet fermented rice balls with osmanthus and placed them on the dining table: "At that time, Miss Zhang also lived in this room, the typewriter clicked in the middle of the night, making me play the wrong tiles in mahjong!"

"Miss Liu, shall we eat a little together?"

"No, no, thank you! I ate in the morning before coming."

Mrs. Zhang was very enthusiastic, immediately invited her to sit down, and without rushing to eat herself, chattered about the live situation of Zhang Chunru's interview with comfort women survivors here back then.

Liu Yifei adjusted her black-rimmed glasses and began to record stroke by stroke.

From this summer morning smelling the fragrance of fermented rice balls, she officially walked into this city of wind and rain.

In front of the Jin Ling Library where the morning mist had not yet dispersed, the light spots filtered by the plane tree leaves jumped on the stone steps.

Xiao Liu stepped into the special collection room with the dew, her plain shirt cut into zebra patterns by the window lattice.

The administrator, Old Zhou, pushed over a mobile ladder, the sound of metal rollers crushing the teak floor waking up the sleeping dust.

"Hello Miss Liu, the crew has already greeted us, you can stay until noon, no one will come for now."

He pointed to the elm table by the window: "This is roughly the seat of Ms. Zhang back then, she checked information here for a week."

"Thank you, sorry for the trouble."

Old Zhou smiled and brought a cup of Rain Flower tea: "You're welcome, I am a Jin Ling person, I must support whatever it takes."

Liu Yifei sat down quietly, the microfilm machine hummed and spat out the 1937 *New York Times*.

She took off half of her mask, and when the headline of December 13, 1937, emerged, her fingertips hovered three inches above the victim's photo, as if paying tribute to the old days.

Noon, Memorial Hall for the Victims.

Liu Yifei squatted in front of the mass grave site to copy the survivor's testimony, the pebble path grinding light green marks on the knees of her denim fabric.

She was experiencing Zhang Chunru's state of mind back then, and unconsciously, tears stained the small regular script on the notebook into ink marks.

The white walls of the memorial hall refracted the sunlight into a pearl color, sprinkling on the notebook where she was copying the testimony.

Suddenly, an old gentleman in a Zhongshan suit stood with a cane: "Girl, the character 'thirty' should be written like this—."

His withered branch-like hands gestured the old-fashioned stroke order in the void.

The young girl looked up, smiling beautifully: "Thank you, Uncle."

As she wrote, tears suddenly blurred in the paragraph of "Mother Searching for Son," staining the ink marks into the outline of Jiangxinzhou.

I don't know if she had completely substituted herself for Zhang Chunru, or if the summer heat was scorching, Liu Yifei only felt that everything in Jin Ling was so heartwarming, even in such a murderous memorial hall.

Afternoon, Pukou Railway Station.

The heat wave gradually dissipated, and steam wove thin gauze on the railway tracks of the platform.

Liu Yifei stood in front of the faded "The World is for All" slogan, the phoenix eyes exposed above the mask made the old lady selling cakes stare in a daze.

The moment the bamboo steamer was uncovered, the sweet fragrance of plum blossom cakes flowed with osmanthus honey.

"Grandma, please sprinkle more pine nuts."

Liu Yifei remembered that in Zhang Chunru's notes, when she first arrived in Jin Ling and got off the train, she used this snack to fill her stomach.

She wanted to taste it and bring some back.

The old lady tremblingly added a spoonful of sugar-preserved kumquat, looking at the porcelain-white neck and raven-like waterfall hair in front of her: "Is the little girl from Huaiyin?"

"Yes, can you tell?"

"Yes."

Liu Yifei said goodbye to her with a smile.

Watching Xiao Liu's slender back walking away, the old lady, whose eyes had not yet been too dim, remembered that this wasn't the Lan Xiaolong Maiden posted on her granddaughter's bedside?

But she saw the cake buyer already walking toward the green-skinned train in the twilight.

Four o'clock in the afternoon, Liu Yifei came to the last stop of the day, Niushou Mountain.

This was also Zhang Chunru's last stop in Jin Ling.

After experiencing interviews with survivors, data collection at the Jin Ling Library, and tearful visits to the Memorial Hall for the Victims, before leaving Jin Ling, she took a trip to Niushou Mountain.

Autumn Qixia, Spring Niushou.

The Niushou Mountain in August had not yet been stained with autumn colors, and the whole mountain was immersed in the amber sunset.

Liu Yifei walked up the bluestone steps slowly, her plain shirt puffed up by the mountain wind in a gentle arc, the cuffs of her pants stained with a few stars of old book dust brought out from the Jin Ling Library.

She took off her mask, revealing her porcelain-white face soaked in sweat, her playful ponytail swaying with her steps, and the hair tips brushing against her neck startled up fine flowing light.

The young girl felt a slight regret in her heart, such beautiful scenery, if he were also here, if he could also see it, it would be great.

The mountain scenery entered her embrace, and she wandered around the wild lake.

The reeds by the lake rippled into emerald waves, and a few dragonflies skimmed across the water, pointing out layers of golden ripples.

Liu Yifei squatted by the pier, her fingertips lightly touching the water droplets on the lotus leaves, and the coolness climbed up to her heart along her wrists.

In the distance, the copper bells under the eaves of the ancient temple ding-donged, startling white egrets to skim across her upturned eyebrows—this moment was imprinted into a poem by the mountain breeze.

She remembered the words in Zhang Chunru's notes, walked deeper, and wanted to pick some flowers and plants to give her as comfort.

When she got up, her pants brushed against the wild daisies, Liu Yifei bent down to support the swaying white small umbrellas, and suddenly saw a tombstone half-hidden behind the flowers.

The seven characters "Tomb of Late Mother Zeng Ceng Wenxiu" suddenly hit her eyes.

Zeng Ceng Wenxiu?

Memories flickered like broken light on the lake, these three characters instantly startled her fingertips to hover an inch in front of the monument!

Liu Yifei would never forget the three names Lu Kuan shouted out when he was sent to West China Hospital after the car accident in Shuimo Town and was delirious in his hospital bed.

Zeng Ceng Wenxiu, Liu Yifei, Huang Yimei.

At that time, because he had just recovered from a serious illness, Xiao Liu had no intention of getting to the bottom of it, but she had also wondered why he shouted her movie character name in his dream.

But in this deep mountain in Jin Ling, this name once again appeared so abruptly!

Is it a coincidence?

The young girl stared blankly at the gentle woman in the tombstone tile photo, looking at each other across the ages.

She had old-fashioned wavy short hair, about thirty-five or thirty-six years old, the broken hair on her forehead was brushed into a gentle arc by the wind, and pearl buttons were pinned to the collar of her moon-white oblique-lapel shirt.

Warmth flowed in the bottom of her eyes, and the slightly drooping arc of the corners of her eyes reminded people of a mother who always left the door open for naughty children.

Always containing three parts of kindness and seven parts of tolerance.

Liu Yifei was silent for a long time before she self-deprecatingly "tsk"ed, aren't there too many people with the same name in China?

Not strange.

Besides, he was an orphan who grew up on Maoshan since he was a child, how could he have anything to do with a tombstone by a wild lake in the deep mountains a hundred kilometers away?

She took a look by the way, there were very few weeds around, it should be buried here by relatives of nearby families.

No matter how big her imagination was, Liu Yifei could not establish a logical connection between the two.

It would be fine to go back and chat with him about this interesting thing, the world is really full of coincidences.

When in Rome, do as the Romans do.

Twilight gradually rose, the mountain breeze carried the osmanthus fragrance across her hair tips, and the cries of returning birds came from afar.

Liu Yifei separated some of the wild roses and daisies she had just picked, placed them quietly in front of the tombstone, and then prepared to leave.

For several consecutive days, this young actress who had prepared for the role for almost a year measured the entire city of Jin Ling with her own footsteps.

The slippery moss at the foot of the Yijiang Gate wall, the whistling river wind at Zhongshan Pier, the last safe zone at the foot of Qingliang Mountain.

The last ferry in the twilight sounded its whistle and set sail, river gulls skimmed across the incomplete "The World is for All" slogan at Zhongshan Pier, like ink dots that had not yet dried in a long historical scroll.

Under the Ming City Wall, when her slender figure was elongated by the street lamp and projected onto the mottled bullet-hole wall, she suddenly stopped, imitating Zhang Chunru raising her right hand to press against the wall, her knuckles turning white from the force.

Taking off the soft light filter of "Fairy Sister," Liu Yifei's eyes at this moment were settled with the thickness of Jin Ling City.

She knew that when the lens of tomorrow's start-up was aimed at the new white hair on her forehead, that would be the most moving makeup—

She had finally merged with Zhang Chunru in 1995.

On the night of July 31, 2006, the literary girl Liu Yifei put a period to her Jin Ling experience trip on her blog and wrote the last blog post before filming started:

I thought I was going to play historical suffering, but I understood Zhang Chunru's obsession in the fireworks of the wonton stall.

Behind those tragic numbers are the grandmothers who send umbrellas to neighbors on rainy nights, the migrant workers who force tea eggs on you, and the millions of concrete people living in the folds of the market.

Performance is no longer imitating a certain action and expression, but putting the moonlight of the Qinhuai River into the lens, speaking for that period of unspeakable years.

(End of this chapter)