On the twentieth of the first lunar month, Twin Pearls was released ahead of schedule without warning, causing an enormous sensation.

In April, Yu Peiling’s Garden of Paradise wrapped filming successfully, officially premiering in early May.

This was Yu Peiling’s transformation work. In the days before its release, Yu Peiling couldn’t sleep every night from worry, often calling Wen Tingli and Huang Yuanshan in the middle of the night to pester them. Wen Tingli assured her repeatedly that it definitely wouldn’t be bad, but Yu Peiling couldn’t relax no matter what.

Truth be told, Yu Peiling was sometimes really like a child—she liked liveliness, loved hearing flattery, and often needed people to accompany her. When happy, she was more optimistic than anyone; but at the slightest setback, she’d fall into gloom easily.

Worried she’d keep suffering from insomnia all night like this and develop what Western medicine calls “neurasthenia,” Wen Tingli simply dragged Huang Yuanshan to stay overnight at Yu Peiling’s house for several nights. Yu Peiling not only wanted them to keep her company chatting, but also had to grip their arms before she’d close her eyes. This method turned out to be quite effective—every time she managed to fall asleep quickly.

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief, and as it turned out, the film was widely acclaimed as soon as it was released.

A seasoned film critic gave this assessment: “Previously I only considered this Miss Yu a likable vase, capable at most of playing frivolous, vain city belles or wealthy young mistresses of the type; once outside that established mold, she was like a wooden beauty entirely lacking in spirit. However, in this new film, Miss Yu laughs and rages, every side of her vividly alive, her acting so realistic it’s as if you’re watching an acquaintance right beside you…

“Miss Yu’s leap-like progress like this is presumably related to the contract-breaking controversy from a while back—as the saying goes, one gains wisdom from a stumble; after experiencing hardship, one often gains a deeper understanding and reflection on life. On the other hand, credit must also go to the renowned director Huang Yuanshan’s guidance. It’s clear that actor and director are mutually indispensable, sharing both glory and shame.”

Wen Tingli and Huang Yuanshan were in high spirits with this happy occasion. First, they were delighted to have helped Yu Peiling successfully transform. Second, they took pride that Xiufeng had achieved excellent results with three consecutive films—Xiufeng had thereby turned from loss to profit, and moreover had thoroughly gained a foothold in the Shanghai film market.

At the end of May, Gao Xiaowen wrote a letter saying her Aoshuang company had officially opened for business. Besides its signature “Aoshuang” face cream, the products under her name now also included “Qinian” lipstick and “Tiaotiao” perfume. Because of the novel colors used, these greatly suited local women’s tastes, and after a month of trial operation, business was doing quite well.

Enclosed in the letter was a recent photo of Gao Xiaowen.

In the photo, Gao Xiaowen grinned broadly at the camera, dressed as flamboyantly as ever, with red feather trim on her hat—she wasn’t sure if it was ostrich feather or not.

The photo wasn’t a solo shot; Gao Xiaowen was surrounded by several young friends, presumably new acquaintances made after arriving in Hong Kong. She’d always loved making friends and had a strong sense of loyalty, so making so many friends at once wasn’t surprising at all.

The group took turns passing around Gao Xiaowen’s letter and photo, laughing as they looked, the worry they’d carried for months finally settling.

A week later, good news also came from Qiao Baoxin’s side. She wrote to tell Wen Tingli she’d successfully passed the joint selection examination between the college and America’s Mary Women’s College, and would soon be going to America to study.

Reading through the letter, one could almost see Baoxin’s gentle, lovely smile.

After finishing the letter, Wen Tingli couldn’t help but sigh wistfully.

Baoxin was leaving too—everyone was working hard for their own future.

She herself also had new plans. Seeing Xiufeng now on the right track, she went back to school to submit her application to resume studies, but unfortunately this semester’s courses were basically finished; she’d have to wait until the start of school in September to handle enrollment procedures.

Taking advantage of this gap, Wen Tingli called Yue Zhaoyun, discussing buying the rights to her new novel to adapt into a film, and warmly inviting Yue Zhaoyun to come to Shanghai as screenwriter.

Yue Zhaoyun agreed readily, but since the novel still had its final part unfinished, she planned to continue writing in seclusion for a while, and would come to Shanghai to join them once she’d thoroughly finished it.

Just at this time, the situation in Beiping suddenly took a turn for the worse. Wen Tingli and Huang Yuanshan grew deeply worried, repeatedly urging Yue Zhaoyun to set out. One day, Yue Zhaoyun had already bought her ticket, but just before boarding the train, she suddenly ran a high fever. A few local friends urgently sent her to Union Hospital, where an examination revealed she’d contracted encephalitis.

Wen Tingli and Huang Yuanshan were frantic with worry, but knew the patient shouldn’t travel in this condition, and could only passively wait for news from the hospital. After a day and night of emergency treatment, Yue Zhaoyun’s condition stabilized, but exactly when she could be discharged remained uncertain.

That evening, Huang Yuanshan waited for news at the Wen household with Wen Tingli. As soon as Wen Tingli put down the phone, she happily told Huang Yuanshan: “The doctor confirmed Sister Yue can travel by train now. I’ll go to Beiping tonight to bring her back.”

“No, the company’s affairs are too busy right now, you need to stay and take charge. Li Zhen and I will make the trip—he has many contacts in Beiping, and with him greeting people along the way, everything will be more convenient.”

“No, you’re the big boss, you should be the one staying to take charge. Don’t worry, I won’t go alone, I’ll have Lu Shicheng accompany me.”

This was merely to comfort Huang Yuanshan—Lu Shicheng’s Zhabei pharmaceutical factory had recently begun shipping goods, medicine being sent crate after crate to the anti-Japanese front lines. Lu Shicheng personally supervised at the factory every night, sometimes staying an entire night.

She didn’t want to distract him over a friend’s matter at this juncture, just as he’d never interfere with her work either.

Therefore, she decided to go to Beiping alone to fetch her.

But Huang Yuanshan absolutely wouldn’t agree: “As soon as you go out these days, people recognize you at a glance. By the time you reach the train station, you might not even be able to walk. Li Zhen and I going will be much more convenient than the two of you.”

Wen Tingli walked Huang Yuanshan to the door, chatting closely. The phone in the parlor rang again; Zhou Sao, sitting on the sofa knitting, answered it casually.

Wen Tingli stood at the front door exchanging a few more words with Huang Yuanshan, and after a long while still hadn’t heard Zhou Sao call her. Puzzled, she exchanged a glance with Huang Yuanshan, turned back inside, and asked: “Zhou Sao, who’s calling?”

Zhou Sao stood there dumbly holding the receiver, her face frighteningly pale.

A sense of foreboding flashed through Wen Tingli’s mind: “What on earth happened? Is it Sister Yue, is she not doing well?!”

“No, it’s not that—” Zhou Sao opened her mouth in shock, “Mr. Kuang just called saying the Japanese have suddenly begun attacking Beiping. He says you two absolutely must not act rashly.”

The air around them froze instantly. Under Wen Tingli and Huang Yuanshan’s shocked gazes, Zhou Sao stood up dazedly, the ball of yarn on her lap dropping to the floor, rolling far away.

Once the news got out, the whole nation was outraged, and resistance activities against Japanese aggression erupted across the country.

The literary and artistic circles were no exception, calling overnight for Shanghai’s industry colleagues to jointly organize anti-Japanese national salvation propaganda activities. Wen Tingli and Huang Yuanshan had no time to attend to company affairs, running to the Film Association and Theater Association every night to help.

Three days later, in the evening, Wen Tingli received a piece of news that immediately filled her heart with joy. She drove to an old gray building near Kangding Road’s Jinsitiao Temple.

Someone came to open the door right away—a young man of sixteen or seventeen.

Wen Tingli nodded to him and followed him inside, passing straight through the courtyard up to the third floor. At the bedroom door, it opened, and she saw Yue Zhaoyun sitting up in bed drinking water. Head Nurse Liu, responsible for her care, was right beside the bed.

Wen Tingli’s nose stung sharply—this illness had left Yue Zhaoyun almost unrecognizably thin.

Yue Zhaoyun stretched out both arms to her; having survived the ordeal, both were unspeakably moved.

“I thought this time I’d be trapped in Beiping and never get out.” As soon as Yue Zhaoyun spoke, tears streamed down uncontrollably. “I never expected… Tingli, thank you.”

In her eyes, a thick layer of tears had gathered; she looked at Head Nurse Liu gratefully: “I know you’re Tingli’s friend, I wouldn’t presume to ask your name. A thousand words boil down to one: thank you all.”

Head Nurse Liu pulled Wen Tingli outside the door. Before she could speak, Wen Tingli embraced her shoulders forcefully.

Tears glimmered faintly in Head Nurse Liu’s eyes, but she said with a smile: “You’ve always been stronger than others—the person’s been rescued, what are you crying for? You know, I’m not good at comforting people.”

“No, you don’t need to comfort me. I’ll just cry it out myself. Sister Liu, this time we owe you so much.”

“Back when you kept taking risks over and over to help us, did you ever say much either?” Head Nurse Liu sighed. “In this national crisis, compatriots should help each other. I meant to ask you—the five thousand silver dollars, that was sent by you, wasn’t it? Don’t play dumb, only you knew that contact address that day.”

She took a thick envelope from her pocket to return to Wen Tingli.

Wen Tingli refused to accept it: “The papers say the Japanese assassination activities are getting more and more rampant. I imagine your situation must be extremely difficult—I didn’t dare contact you all on my own initiative, and could only support you this way. No, please, you must accept it, this is donated in the name of Sister Li’s own younger sister—”

Upon hearing the words “Sister Li,” Head Nurse Liu quickly turned her face away.

After a few seconds of silence, she turned back to Wen Tingli: “I’ll need to ask the organization’s opinion first before telling you whether I can accept it. For safety’s sake, we need to relocate overnight—you should hurry and take Ms. Yue away from here too.”

Upon getting the news, Huang Yuanshan paced anxiously at the entrance to the Wen household, and as soon as she saw Wen Tingli’s car pull up, rushed over to help Yue Zhaoyun out of the car.

She and Yue Zhaoyun weren’t just old friends of many years, but confidantes to each other. With their country broken and homes lost, fleeing thousands of miles, this reunion inevitably brought a bout of weeping.

After discussion, Yue Zhaoyun would first settle for one night at Wen Tingli’s house, then move to Huang Yuanshan’s house the next day to recuperate—the Huang household had no children, so the environment would be relatively quieter. Yan Zhenzhen had always regarded Yue Zhaoyun as her idol; hearing she’d been brought out, she rushed to the Wen household late at night to visit.

Yue Zhaoyun said from bed: “That new novel of mine… let’s not film it. These days, there’s constantly a raging fire in my chest. Though I’m just a writer, I too want to contribute to my country. Along the way I reconceived a patriotic-themed script, titled Resistance. I’ll start writing tomorrow morning—no, don’t try to persuade me, my body has recovered quite well already.”

The others exchanged glances silently, only nodding.

From that day on, Wen Tingli and Huang Yuanshan continued attending rehearsals for the Shanghai Patriotic Drama Association during the day, and busily prepared the new film at night.

Unfortunately, Yue Zhaoyun’s body was still very weak, often needing to stop after writing just a few pages. This day at noon, seeing Yue Zhaoyun’s complexion poor, Wen Tingli urged her to rest, but Yue Zhaoyun refused to put down her pen.

Writing until dusk, the “scratch scratch scratch” sound on the bed suddenly stopped. Turning to look, they saw Yue Zhaoyun had silently collapsed onto the bed.

Everyone was frantic with worry, hurrying to call Dr. Louis. After some emergency treatment, Yue Zhaoyun leisurely regained consciousness. Louis, his expression grave, told the others: “She must stop her current work immediately. Continuing like this is extremely dangerous.”

Yue Zhaoyun shook her head on the pillow. Wen Tingli leaned close to her face and heard her say, breath faint: “I can’t stop. Everyone’s waiting for my script—there are only ten more scenes to finish.”

Wen Tingli’s tears fell like rain: “But your physical condition no longer allows you to expend more mental energy.”

“There’s nothing that doesn’t allow it… I…” Yue Zhaoyun fell unconscious again.

The people from Xiufeng rushed over upon hearing the news. Gu Jie said worriedly: “In this condition, we absolutely cannot let Miss Yue keep writing, but how is the company’s loss to be made up? The main actors’ costumes have just been finished, the sets and props have also cost a considerable budget, and the relevant actors’ schedules have all already been cleared in advance. With the script suddenly aborted at this point, all the earlier investment will have gone down the drain.”

Huang Yuanshan said firmly: “I won’t let this production die halfway. Worst case, I’ll write the remaining scenes myself.”

“No.” Tan Guiwang jumped up in objection. “Master, you’re running around all day already, sleeping less than three or four hours a night—if you stay up late to write scripts too, your health will definitely collapse. Why not hand it to Ke Qing, he’s the manager of the screenwriting department, it would be much more appropriate for him to continue writing it.”

“Ke Qing? He’s talented, sure, but also quite arrogant. Once the script gets to him, he’ll definitely overturn everything before it and rewrite it his own way. Would that even still be Sister Yue’s script?”

Thinking about it this way, they could hardly find a suitable candidate for screenwriter. On one hand, this person had to be highly aligned in thinking with Yue Zhaoyun, at least able to grasp her creative intentions accurately. On the other hand, they also had to respect Yue Zhaoyun enough not to arbitrarily change her earlier text.

Most importantly, this person needed enough writing skill to guarantee they wouldn’t produce an inferior sequel.

Everyone was at a loss, when Wen Tingli suddenly said: “I’ve thought of someone.”

Yan Zhenzhen rushed over to the Huang household. Hearing Wen Tingli’s request, she froze: “Me? I help Sister Yue continue writing Resistance? You must be joking, how could I possibly do that?”

“You can!” Wen Tingli said resolutely. “Besides you, no one else can. From the time we were desk-mates at Wushi Girls’ School, I’ve read almost all your novel manuscripts—I know your writing level better than anyone. Besides, you’ve always regarded Sister Yue as your idol; you’re intimately familiar with her writing style and characteristics, and you genuinely respect the views she wants to express. With you continuing it, there’s no need to worry about the story’s direction going astray.”

Yan Zhenzhen kept shaking her head like a rattle-drum: “No, no, that’s Yue Zhaoyun’s story, with my ability I definitely can’t continue it well. Besides, Sister Yue won’t agree to someone else continuing it for her either.”

“If someone else wrote it, she might not agree, but you’re different—she’s always treated you as a junior, and even personally helped revise your novels before. Fine, I won’t force you, Sister Huang and I will go find Ke Qing right away.”

“Ke Qing? That arrogant scholar?” Yan Zhenzhen snatched the manuscript out of Wen Tingli’s hand. “No way! We can’t hand over Sister Yue’s life’s work to him!”

Facing Wen Tingli’s smiling eyes, Yan Zhenzhen realized she’d fallen into a trap, and helplessly nodded: “Fine, I’ll give it a try then.”

But Yan Zhenzhen didn’t just “give it a try”—though she appeared casual and unrestrained on the outside, once she committed to something, she took it more seriously than anyone. Encouraged by Wen Tingli, she shut herself at home, writing day and night for five days straight, dozing off randomly when tired, chewing on bread haphazardly when hungry. By the end, her head was heavy as a bucket, her legs weak as noodles, but her eyes were bright and full of energy. Before dawn, she excitedly went to find Wen Tingli and Huang Yuanshan.

It happened Yue Zhaoyun’s health had improved. The three of them took turns reading Yan Zhenzhen’s newly written pages, growing more delighted the more they read. By the end, Yue Zhaoyun’s face was streaked with tears.

Yan Zhenzhen was terrified: “Are you disappointed with my continuation?”

“No, this is completely the story I wanted to write. Thank you for your hard work, Zhenzhen.”

Yan Zhenzhen was still stunned, while Wen Tingli was already crying with joy, giving her a push: “Hear that? I knew you’d be up to it!”

“Put Zhenzhen’s name… before mine.” Yue Zhaoyun instructed. “I’m not just saying this as a courtesy—giving a leg up to the younger generation is one thing, but what’s rare is that she didn’t distort my original intent at all, and many later plot points are written even better than I’d envisioned. Without her, this story might not have had an ending. So she’s the deserving primary screenwriter—please, act according to my wishes on this.”

After some twists and turns, Resistance finally began filming, with the entire staff devoting their utmost enthusiasm—shooting was practically a race against time.

Wen Tingli was perhaps the busiest of all. Usually she could at least share one meal a day with Lu Shicheng, but this time she hadn’t seen him for an entire week straight. That noon Lu Shicheng called, but she again failed to catch it, and couldn’t help but feel deeply concerned.

By evening, her scenes were all finished filming. Seeing there was nothing else pressing to attend to, she was about to head to the pharmaceutical factory to find Lu Shicheng when she suddenly heard Xiao Tian call from upstairs: “Boss Wen, there’s a call for you.”

The voice on the other end of the phone was quite unfamiliar: “Miss Wen, we met that day at Head Nurse Liu’s place. My surname is Miao, I’m Liu Xiangzhi’s subordinate.”

The young man who’d opened the door that day?

Wen Tingli said nothing.

“A few days ago, Teacher Liu led people to Beiping to rescue a colleague. According to the schedule, she should have returned by yesterday morning at the latest, but there’s still no word. I’m… I’m worried something’s happened.”

The young man’s voice still sounded rather young, trembling as he spoke.

“Please forgive my presumption—usually I only contact Teacher Liu through a single line of communication, and now that I’m alone I don’t know what to do. I can tell Teacher Liu trusts you a great deal, so I—I called the telephone company to look up your esteemed company’s number. I understand I’ve violated protocol, but if this drags on any longer, I’m afraid we’ll miss the window for rescue.”

The first thought that popped into Wen Tingli’s mind was: could this be a trap?

She had indeed seen this person at Head Nurse Liu’s house—if he hadn’t been a trusted subordinate, Head Nurse Liu absolutely wouldn’t have let him be present that day.

But she still felt the whole thing was a bit suspicious. As she hesitated, she thought of Li Chengying’s death, and her heart felt as if it had been cut by a knife—the pain was intense.

The young man was right—if she missed the best moment for the rescue, she would regret it for the rest of her life.

She thought of someone, and said with a laugh over the phone: “I think you’ve probably got the wrong person. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

As soon as she hung up, she immediately called Liu Yaqiao. From the very start, Liu Yaqiao had been well aware of her own relationship with Dean Deng—other people’s stances might be questionable, but Liu Yaqiao’s stance was absolutely trustworthy.

Liu Yaqiao was working overtime at the law office. Hearing it was Wen Tingli calling, she assumed it was about the women workers’ charity foundation: “I have urgent matters to attend to, I’ll come find you in a couple of days.”

Wen Tingli said in a low voice: “Sister Yaqiao, an acquaintance of mine, surnamed Liu, has suddenly gone missing. Do you know her?”

The air froze for a brief second.

“Eight o’clock tonight, meet me at my place.” Liu Yaqiao hung up decisively.

This made Wen Tingli even more convinced that something had truly happened to Head Nurse Liu. The hair on her back stood on end; the scene of Sister Li’s death flashed before her eyes frame by frame, making her feel a chill throughout her body even on this hot day. That evening, she rushed to Liu Yaqiao’s house and found her expression no better than her own.

“What exactly was that phone call about this evening?”

Wen Tingli recounted the whole story, and Liu Yaqiao sank painfully into a chair: “Yes, Sister Xiangzhi really has gotten into trouble. Traveling with her were also three members of the underground patriotic organization. The last phone call said they’d already successfully rescued the person, but that very night they lost contact. Strangely, the arrest list hasn’t added any new names, so it seems they weren’t arrested.”

She took a worried deep breath: “My guess is they’re likely still stuck near the martial law zone, just unable to find a chance to leave the city. If they keep hiding like this, they’ll either starve to death or be discovered by the Japanese side. The most tricky part is, Liu Xiangzhi is my superior—I don’t know how to contact the other members, nor can I go over her head to seek help. All I can do is passively wait for news where I am.”

Wen Tingli was frantic with worry, and suddenly said: “I’ve heard the International Red Cross’s vehicles can currently still enter and exit Beiping. If we found a Red Cross member to help, could we get into the city through them to find people?”

The first person she thought of was Dr. Louis.

“But at a time like this, who would be willing to take such a huge risk?” Liu Yaqiao suddenly stopped short. “Wait, I’ve thought of someone who might be able to help—Lu Shicheng.”

Wen Tingli was stunned. Liu Yaqiao explained: “Lu Shicheng’s pharmaceutical factory has its own dedicated shipping routes, and several doctors at the Lu family’s Huiqun Hospital are members of the International Red Cross. I have a detailed list here, but I don’t know… will Lu Shicheng be willing to wade into these muddy waters? After all, our organization has never dealt with him before.”

“No, he’ll definitely be willing to help.” Wen Tingli said with a smile, her tone extremely certain.

The two of them rushed to the Dasheng Pharmaceutical Factory with the greatest speed, but Lu Shicheng wasn’t in his office—he was in the workshop out back, checking inventory with the production manager.

The weather was hot; he had his shirt collar open, both sleeves rolled up high. Even so, sweat covered his forehead. Seeing the manager lead Wen Tingli in, he was somewhat surprised, and brought her to a cooler spot by the vent: “Why have you come at this hour? Have you eaten?”

Wen Tingli said quietly: “I have an urgent matter to ask you about. That’s Sister Yaqiao, you’ve met her.”

Lu Shicheng only then noticed Liu Yaqiao behind Wen Tingli.

Liu Yaqiao nodded quickly to him. Lu Shicheng nodded politely in return, then looked at Wen Tingli questioningly. Wen Tingli leaned close to his ear and said something. He glanced left and right: “Alright, let’s talk in my office.”

The three of them went upstairs, and Liu Yaqiao explained the general situation to Lu Shicheng. Lu Shicheng didn’t respond right away, clearly thinking it over.

Liu Yaqiao’s expression was grim, her heart sinking like a stone. She hadn’t clearly explained Liu Xiangzhi and the others’ true identities, nor had she accounted for why they needed to go to Beiping at this juncture. Cooperation requires sincerity, and with one side holding back so much, it would be very difficult for the other side to agree to help—not to mention this wasn’t a small favor, but a huge one.

She could almost predict what Lu Shicheng’s reaction would be. Without realizing it, her brow furrowed with worry, but unexpectedly Lu Shicheng’s first words were: “Alright, I’ll take people to Beiping tonight. But before that, you need to give me a verbal password that can prove your stance, otherwise I’m afraid they won’t trust me. Also, please describe as clearly as possible the possible range of their disappearance, and each person’s appearance and age.”

Liu Yaqiao was overjoyed beyond expectation.

But what surprised her most was the rapport between Lu Shicheng and Wen Tingli.

She’d just finished explaining the relevant details to Lu Shicheng when Wen Tingli walked up to him carrying her own suitcase, and the two of them began speaking in low voices.

Liu Yaqiao hurriedly stepped aside, but still accidentally overheard a few sentences.

“Of course I’m going with you. I can disguise myself, dress up as an old lady, deceive people—with me around, things will go much more smoothly…”

The moment Lu Shicheng heard the word “deceive,” he laughed right there: “You even admit you can deceive people yourself… that production of yours is so important, how can you abandon it? Worst case I’ll find a real old lady to accompany me.”

Wen Tingli was tickled by this, laughing as she said something else in a low voice. The two of them conversed so relaxedly, so harmoniously, that Liu Yaqiao couldn’t help but look back at them again.

She happened to see Lu Shicheng reach out to brush aside the hair that had fallen onto Wen Tingli’s shoulder.

Having rushed around all this way, Wen Tingli’s hair had come somewhat loose. Lu Shicheng’s gaze followed his fingers, falling now on her hair, now on her face, an undisguisable fondness in it—so focused, as if his eyes could hold nothing but Wen Tingli alone.

This tender scene let even Liu Yaqiao’s taut heartstrings relax for a moment. She shook her head with a smile and walked further away, so the two of them could speak more privately.

Lu Shicheng set out for Beiping that very night.

An entire week passed without any news.

Wen Tingli was busy filming Resistance, busy participating in various anti-Japanese activities, but only she herself knew how much inner torment she was going through.

But no matter how worried, she never lost her reason. In this matter, Lu Shicheng had his own methods, just as she’d had her own approach when rescuing Yue Zhaoyun—he could neither ask too much, nor get involved.

All she could do for now was: wait.

But she had no way to overcome the fear in her heart, and could hardly sleep through the night. Even once she managed to fall asleep, her subconscious kept one ear pricked, afraid of missing Lu Shicheng’s call.

That day, as soon as she finished her work, she stayed by the telephone as usual, cupping her head with both hands, fingers threaded through her hair. She’d already decided—if there was still no news tonight, she would take new action no matter what. Suddenly, the phone rang.

It was Liu Yaqiao calling. Her usually composed voice actually carried a choked note: “They’re all back… don’t worry, everyone’s fine.”

Wen Tingli leapt three feet off the sofa: “What about him?”

Liu Yaqiao clearly knew who this “him” referred to: “We’re looking for Mr. Lu too. He’s helped us so enormously, we really don’t know how to thank him enough. But according to Dr. Louis, Mr. Lu seemed to go straight back to the Lu residence as soon as he returned.

Wen Tingli grabbed her handbag and ran outside. By the time she drove to the Lu residence, Lu Shicheng wasn’t there—Kuang Zhilin happened to be there too, and seeing Wen Tingli, said in surprise: “Young Master Lu went straight to find you as soon as he got back—didn’t you two run into each other?”

Wen Tingli turned around and rushed home, only to be met again with Zhou Sao’s bewildered gaze: “Mr. Lu saw you weren’t home and drove off to find you again.”

Wen Tingli jumped back into the car again. Zhou Sao, caught between laughing and crying, said: “You two must be confused—just stay in the house and wait, Mr. Lu will find his way there sooner or later.”

But Wen Tingli said: “I’m going to the pharmaceutical factory. If Mr. Lu calls again, tell him I’m waiting for him at the factory.”

She waited about half an hour in Lu Shicheng’s office when she heard someone come upstairs—that person was in a hurry, walking straight to the office door.

Unable to wait, Wen Tingli opened the door and flung herself into his arms, only to hear Lu Shicheng hiss.

“You’re hurt?”

Lu Shicheng took off his coat and tossed it onto the sofa behind her, then pulled up the cuff of his inner shirt to show her.

His right arm had a large area of abrasion. Wen Tingli gasped in pain: “I knew it! I knew it! There must be other injuries too, show me quickly.”

Lu Shicheng’s brow furrowed tightly, saying nothing, letting her fuss over him.

Wen Tingli got him onto the sofa, and he lay down at once.

Wen Tingli fetched gauze and medicine bottles to treat him, and he raised his arm obediently for her to wipe it.

She found cold water and a cloth to lay on his forehead to cool it, and though he clearly knew he had no fever, he still let her leave his forehead damp.

But when she began undoing his shirt buttons one by one, preparing to check his shoulders, back, and chest for gunshot wounds, he finally couldn’t hold back, laughing as he caught her hands: “I’m fine, I was just pretending just now.”

He laughed happily, very satisfied.

“How could you do this!” She’d nearly worried herself to death, and he was still joking around with her.

Lu Shicheng pulled her into his arms: “Sorry, I just…”

He just craved this feeling of being wholeheartedly cared for by her.

She forgave everything at once, her gaze tracing his face carefully: “Really nothing wrong?”

“Really nothing wrong.” He kissed her ear. “Worried about me these past few days?”

“Worried so much I couldn’t sleep. Afraid something would happen to you, more afraid you wouldn’t come back.”

“I promised I’d come back, so I’ll come back for sure. As long as I have one breath left, I’ll crawl back to see you if I have to.”

Wen Tingli covered his mouth: “You’re only allowed to say that once. Never say it again after this.”

“Alright.” He’d agree to anything for her.

His breath was hot, scalding against her palm.

That unusual heat… Wen Tingli suspiciously touched his forehead—no fever. From the corner of her eye, she saw his shirt had been unbuttoned halfway by her own hands, and only then did she realize why his breathing was so hot. She felt somewhat annoyed, and even more embarrassed—just now she’d really been too flustered.

She lowered her eyelids demurely, awkwardly trying to help him re-button his shirt. But he dodged her hand, getting up on his own to stand aside and button his own shirt.

In this regard, he’d always been a gentleman, courteous—those new-fashioned trends hadn’t rubbed off on him at all. He had his own principles; even though the two of them were so deeply in love, they still adhered to propriety.

She couldn’t resist stealing a glance at his profile, seeing his ears completely red.

Lu Shicheng stood alone facing the window for quite a while before he regained his composure, coming back to ask her: “Hungry? I’ll have the restaurant deliver something now.”

As soon as he was back, her appetite returned too. They sat head to head eating together, and she ate more than him.

Over tea after the meal, Wen Tingli asked him quietly: “That day when you agreed to help, you didn’t carefully ask about those people’s true identities—didn’t you have any doubts in your heart at all? Do you know what they do?”

“I know.” Lu Shicheng looked at the tea leaves in his cup. “Sister Li as well as Dean Deng—they’re both people who have helped you. Your elder sister is my elder sister; the people you want to protect are the people I want to protect. In this regard, I have no principles.”

Wen Tingli suddenly covered her face.

Lu Shicheng leaned in with a smile to examine her; she wouldn’t take her hands off her face, turning her body this way and that, only avoiding his eyes. After being still for a long while, her voice came out from between her fingers: “Lu Shicheng, I sort of love you.”

“‘Sort of’? Put your hands down, look me in the eye and say it.”

Wen Tingli put her hands down, looking into his eyes: “Lu Shicheng, I love you very, very much.”

Only then did he pull her close, kissing her deeply. Outside the window came a rumbling sound; they went to the window to look, and it turned out to be the pharmaceutical factory’s delivery trucks loading up out there.

Under the streetlight, crate after crate of medicine could be seen being loaded onto the trucks—soon they’d be sent to places urgently in need of medicine.

A sense of pride welled up naturally in Wen Tingli’s heart. In this national crisis, everyone was doing their part. When the factory had first bought this ruin, many had laughed at Lu Shicheng as a wastrel, but he’d paid it no mind, building this new-style pharmaceutical factory piece by piece atop the ruins according to his own blueprint. Now, at this critical juncture, it was serving the country quietly, without any fanfare.

She admired his character, liked his way of doing things—at no point had he ever let her down.

Lu Shicheng, hands braced on the railing, was silent for a while, then suddenly said: “You know, watching these trucks set off one after another like a procession of dragons, I always feel that’s my mother’s life continuing on.”

She understood what he meant—after persisting all these years, he’d finally realized, on behalf of his prematurely deceased mother, the ambition she’d once held. But he still felt regretful, because his mother couldn’t personally see all this—once gone, gone is gone, no matter how hard he tried, it couldn’t come back.

She sighed—everyone’s life carries irreparable regrets; all one can do is hold tight to everything one has, cherishing every moment.

She unconsciously gripped his hand tightly, and Lu Shicheng, being so perceptive, immediately gripped hers back. In this pitch-dark night, they stood side by side together, like two connected trees. But when they wanted to say something more, they only fell silent—the difficulty of the times weighed heavily on both their hearts.

That night, Lu Shicheng sent Wen Tingli home, returning to the Lu residence very late. Kuang Zhilin was waiting for him in the study.

“What happened?” Kuang Zhilin came forward, heavy with concern.

Lu Shicheng was somewhat exhausted, rubbing his face with one hand, sitting down to think. On this trip to Beiping to rescue people, he’d caught sight of Lu Kejian in a very chance setting, walking together with several Japanese military officers.

He suspected he’d seen wrong, so he wanted to verify this as soon as possible.

If it were true, he thought, Lu Kejian must have gone mad.

A stray dog, for the sake of seizing power and taking revenge on him and the Lu family, was actually willing to collude submissively with a group of invaders.

No, he had to uncover the truth in the shortest time possible, and take timely action.

After hearing the whole story, Kuang Zhilin was both shocked and furious: “This scum! Does he think he can still play both sides like he did colluding with the Bailong Gang before, and get off scot-free? Should we tell Old Master about this?”

Lu Shicheng leaned his head back against the sofa, tilting his head up, eyes closed.

The trap was already mostly set; he believed Lu Kejian would go all the way down this dark road.

As for his grandfather—this was the youngest son his grandfather had insisted on protecting to the death, black or white. He rather looked forward to seeing his grandfather’s reaction upon learning the truth. Thinking this, a mocking smile crossed Lu Shicheng’s lips. Then he fell silent again—his hatred for his grandfather seemed even deeper than his hatred for Lu Kejian, which even surprised himself somewhat.

The flames of war spread rapidly; Tianjin and Beiping fell one after another.

Every day the papers carried all sorts of heart-wrenching reports. Walking on the street, everyone’s faces were clouded with worry. Wen Tingli and Huang Yuanshan, holding fast to their convictions, raced against time to film Resistance.

One night in mid-August, just after going to bed, they were suddenly startled awake by a series of distant, rumbling booms.

Wen Tingli seemed to have a premonition, and rolled out of bed at once, running to the top of the stairs. Zhou Sao had also come out carrying Xiao Taozi, saying in a panic from below: “Big girl, my heart is racing, what’s that sound.”

“Don’t be afraid, let me make a call first.”

But she practically stumbled and scrambled down the stairs, and before she could even pick up the receiver, urgent knocking sounded at the door outside.

At this hour of the night, this sound was terrifying beyond words. Wen Tingli, face pale, went to open the door.

Lu Shicheng’s expression was even worse than she’d expected; as soon as he entered, he said: “The Japanese have begun attacking Shanghai. Come with me to the Lu residence right away.”

“Alright.”

Wen Tingli went upstairs to pack. Seeing Zhou Sao still standing dazed, she said sternly: “Go pack your things quickly.”

At a time like this, there was no time to think of anything else—staying alive mattered more than anything! Going to the Lu residence would mean they could look after each other, and the Lu family’s private steamship was moored at the pier, ready to head south at any time.

She hurriedly helped pack Xiao Taozi’s luggage, and only then went upstairs herself to pack her own clothes.

Just as the family had settled in at the Lu residence, the phone in the parlor rang—but it wasn’t for Lu Shicheng, it was for Wen Tingli.

“It’s me, Boss Wen.” It was Tan Guiwang, his voice frantic as if he were about to burst into flames. “Forgive my presumption, no one answered your house phone, so I guessed Young Master Lu had taken you all to the Lu residence. Master, she—”

Wen Tingli’s heart trembled: “What happened?!”

“The defense line is near Xiepo Road, right close to Xiufeng. As soon as Master heard this news, she drove to the company; Sister Yue couldn’t stop her at all. I think Master must be worried sick about those cameras and film reels. I’m about to set out to catch up with her, but I’m afraid…”

Without another word, Wen Tingli hung up the phone and ran outside, not forgetting to check the pistol in her handbag as she ran.

“Where are you going?” Lu Shicheng hurried to stop her.

“To find Sister Huang, she’s gone to Xiufeng alone. I have to bring her back.”

Steward Xu and the others exchanged looks—that area was in the middle of a battle right now, Miss Wen must be out of her mind not to care for her life.

But Lu Shicheng grabbed Wen Tingli’s hand without the slightest hesitation: “I’ll go with you.”

They got in the car and set off.

The further ahead they went, the more chaotic the streets became, the distant sound of cannon fire rumbling like thunder, the crying of old people and children unceasing, residents from the Chinese-administered district streaming in droves toward the concession.

Lu Shicheng’s expression was unusually stern; Wen Tingli too gritted her teeth watching all this—this beautiful city, its lovely people, its bustling street corners, her home! Overnight, everything had changed!

She hated the invaders to the core! Hated this atrocity to the core! Hated until her chest felt ready to burst, hated until her eyes turned red!

Lu Shicheng drove at breakneck speed the whole way.

The closer they got to Xiufeng, the denser the shellfire ahead—that was death’s knock. Wen Tingli’s whole body tensed like a coiled spring. When they’d first rented the company’s location nearby, it was precisely because the rent was cheap and the space large enough—never expecting that being on the edge of the district was exactly why the flames of war would first ignite there.

Suddenly, a plume of thick smoke shot up into the sky ahead, that was—

Wen Tingli’s pupils constricted, no! Her face turned pale, her throat tight, gripping Lu Shicheng’s sleeve tightly and refusing to let go. Unable to wait for him to bring the car to a full stop, she flusteredly jumped out, and losing her footing, fell flat on the ground, but disregarding the pain, she scrambled up and ran toward the flames.

Before this enormous tongue of fire, her strength was too puny.

Within a few short seconds, Xiufeng had already been swallowed by a sea of flames.

“No—” Facing the blazing fire, she cried out in despair.

She wanted to cry, wanted to curse, wanted to kill someone, wanted to grab anything at hand to put out the fire—under this enormous emotional shock, she completely lost her reason, and hardened her heart to charge in, but was caught by Lu Shicheng, held tight in his arms.

She wept loudly in his arms.

Everything was over. Her Resistance film reels, the filming equipment she’d worked so hard to preserve, the studio she and her colleagues had built brick by brick!

Her ambitions!

Hearing Wen Tingli’s grief-stricken cries, Lu Shicheng’s throat worked; he held her tenderly in his arms, endlessly stroking the back of her head, but he knew that at this moment nothing he did could comfort her. Suddenly they heard a crashing sound from over there, and two people came coughing out of the flames.

It was Huang Yuanshan and Tan Guiwang. Huang Yuanshan had found a huge flag from somewhere, waving it madly as she charged out; catching a breath, she turned to charge back into the sea of flames again.

Tan Guiwang stumbled and fell to the ground, unable to catch up to her.

“Sister Huang!” Wen Tingli, without a word, rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Huang Yuanshan’s waist.

Huang Yuanshan’s strength was extraordinarily great; as soon as Wen Tingli grabbed hold, she was thrown to the ground. Lu Shicheng caught up and gripped Huang Yuanshan’s arm tightly: “Sister Huang, you can’t go in, you’ll die.”

“So be it if I die.” Huang Yuanshan cried hoarsely. “That’s my life! My films, my Xiufeng! What hope do I have left, I want to fight these invaders to the death!”

Wen Tingli’s tears streamed down. Lu Shicheng, with great effort, dragged and carried Huang Yuanshan to the car; Tan Guiwang had by now gotten up from the ground and hurried to help stuff Huang Yuanshan into the car.

A second earlier Huang Yuanshan had still been struggling violently, but the next second she went completely limp. Wen Tingli leaned in to check: “Not good, Sister Huang has fainted, we need to get to the hospital right away.”

Huang Yuanshan’s face was as pale as gold foil, her forehead scalding hot. On the way, Wen Tingli checked her over and discovered her arms and legs were burned.

Wen Tingli was frantic with worry, tears falling. Fortunately, before long Louis arrived at the Lu residence. However, after applying medicine and giving injections, Huang Yuanshan’s high fever showed no sign of receding at all, her jaw clenched, her muscles unusually tense, requiring two people working together to hold her down.

Louis stuffed a soft towel into Huang Yuanshan’s mouth, and packed several ice bags on her legs and armpits to help cool her down. The more he treated her, the grimmer his expression grew: “Her condition is quite bad, I’m worried it might develop into laryngospasm.”

Wen Tingli’s mind went blank: “What does that mean?”

“It means her condition is worse than I expected. Perhaps it’s due to major emotional trauma, or perhaps she inhaled a large amount of smoke in the sea of flames just now—in any case, it’s a very rare clinical situation. I’ll try giving her another dose of sedative.”

The medicine needed was only available at the Red Cross hospital; Lu Shicheng exhausted every means to have it brought over. But after the second round of medication, Huang Yuanshan’s condition showed no improvement whatsoever, even her lip color starting to look off.

Tan Guiwang squatted anxiously in the corner, holding his head, crying his heart out.

Wen Tingli had no time to grieve, clasping her hands together, silently pressing them against her forehead—this made her look as if she were praying, but in fact her mind was racing furiously.

She had no doubt about Louis’s words: if things continued like this, Sister Huang would die.

Her heart was seized instantly by enormous fear—she was more afraid of losing Sister Huang than anyone else in this world.

But the best doctor was already here, the best medicine had already been used—all that remained was to leave it to fate.

No, she thought, perhaps everyone’s thinking had been wrong from the start. The heart’s illness needs the heart’s medicine!

Sister Huang’s love for film was of the purest, most genuine kind. Just as a fish cannot live without water, Sister Huang couldn’t live without film either. Xiufeng burning down was undoubtedly a fatal blow to Sister Huang.

Perhaps, what mattered most right now was helping Sister Huang rebuild her faith as quickly as possible…

Thinking about this, Wen Tingli suddenly raised her head, unexpectedly discovering Lu Shicheng had been quietly watching her the whole time.

“What do you need me to do?”

Wen Tingli was moved beyond words, gripping his hand tightly: “I want to bring several people to the Lu residence right away.”

Soon, Cao Renxiu, Gu Jie, Xiao Tian, Li Zhen, Ke Qing, and Yu Peiling all arrived, and even Yue Zhaoyun, whose health hadn’t fully recovered, hurried over as well.

Everyone gathered outside the door, gazing at Huang Yuanshan on the bed inside with boundless worry.

Wen Tingli exchanged a few quiet words with everyone; they all nodded slightly, and Wen Tingli went back inside, half-kneeling by Huang Yuanshan’s bed.

“Sister Huang, look, everyone’s come to see you.” As soon as she opened her mouth, tears blurred her vision. “Everyone’s here, not one of us is willing to leave—everyone’s waiting for you to wake up and lead us to make films. Do you know, you’re the backbone of Xiufeng, the company burning down can still be rebuilt, but if you fall, then Xiufeng will truly face utter destruction.”

Low sobs rose both inside and outside the room.

Yu Peiling, crying so hard her makeup had run, rushed to the foot of the bed and said: “Boss Huang, what do you mean by this? You finally poached me from Huamei, and after just finishing our first film together, you’re going to give up? I’m still waiting for you to tailor-make my second film! Quick, wake up—I really didn’t expect you to be so irresponsible!”

Nurse Melissa happened to come in from outside carrying a tray; seeing this scene, she was so startled she hurried to ask Yu Peiling to leave, but Wen Tingli kept shaking her head at her.

Li Zhen, who’d originally just been silently looking down, was moved by Yu Peiling’s words, and raised his head, eyes reddening as he said:

“Boss Huang, that time you came to Suzhou to find me and I avoided seeing you, you didn’t hesitate to visit three times, personally swearing you’d create a company unlike any other. I was moved by your ambition and courage, and resolutely quit my job as chief editor at the newspaper to join Xiufeng. I didn’t misjudge you—Spring Wind Blows Again, Twin Pearls, Garden of Paradise… every single time, you and Boss Wen have pulled off something extraordinary. Working alongside you two, I, Li Zhen, felt full of drive from head to toe. And now? A single fire has knocked you down? If you don’t wake up like this, I’ll be the first to look down on you!”

Huang Yuanshan on the bed remained unconscious, but a line of tears silently slid from the corner of her eye.

Wen Tingli’s heartstrings trembled; she leaned in closer: “I know you can hear me, Sister Huang, listen to me. Xiufeng was burned down by a fire, but we, the people of Xiufeng, are still here. I believe as long as none of us scatter, everything can start over. Worst case we’ll head south, to Wuhan, to Chongqing, or else to Hong Kong. When Gao Xiaowen went to Hong Kong, she couldn’t even boil an egg, and now her little company is already running quite respectably—which shows that once you’ve started, nothing is impossible for us.”

She wiped her tears: “Think about it—when Xiufeng was first founded, the whole company had just you and me, without even a proper office space. Look at us now, we’ve gathered so many new sources of energy around us, everyone’s waiting for you to lead us forward. Sister Huang, do you hear me—”

Suddenly, Louis said in pleasant surprise: “It seems she really can hear. Melissa, come quickly, the patient’s muscle tension isn’t so high anymore, hurry and give her the medicine.”

Wen Tingli retreated to the side in trepidation. This time, not long after the medicine was administered, her body temperature began to trend downward. Wen Tingli wept with joy, embracing everyone together.

An hour later, Huang Yuanshan’s condition had further improved. Wen Tingli collapsed limply into the chair by the bed, and once her emotions had calmed somewhat, she began methodically arranging the relocation matters.

The company was gone; the most pressing matter now was the livelihood of the company’s employees.

“Once Sister Huang’s condition is more stable, we’ll set out. Anyone willing to come with us to Hong Kong or Chongqing, please raise your hand. If you don’t want to go, Xiufeng absolutely won’t force you—I’ll pay an extra severance.”

Everyone raised their hands in unison, except for the screenwriting department manager, Ke Qing.

He said irritably: “My whole family’s in the countryside, it’s inconvenient to drag them along while fleeing. I plan to go back to the countryside for a while to avoid the trouble. Besides, I’m quite confident about the current war situation, so I won’t join in the excitement with you all.”

Without another word, Wen Tingli took out a stack of silver dollars from her bag and handed it to him—a full four hundred dollars.

“This—” Ke Qing’s expression changed subtly.

“Xiufeng never mistreats its own people. You’ve served the company for so long, this is what you deserve. Take it quickly, so many people at home are waiting to eat. Of course, if Mr. Ke ever wants to write film scripts again in the future, feel free to contact us anytime.” Wen Tingli said with a smile.

Ke Qing nodded, abashed.

Lu Shicheng looked up at the ceiling, then couldn’t help but glance over that way again. He’d said before that Wen Tingli’s soul was golden—Xiufeng burning down must have dealt her a heavy blow too, but she’d held up. In this regard, Wen Tingli had always had an astonishing capacity for self-healing.

Kuang Zhilin, watching this, sighed with admiration: “This friendship between Miss Wen and Huang Yuanshan is truly moving. Honestly, I used to hold some bias against Miss Wen, but the more I’ve come to know her, the more I’ve come to appreciate her character. She really is, truly is, a woman of extraordinary mettle.”

Overnight, the Lu residence had become a temporary shelter.

As soon as Cao Renxiu, Gu Jie, and the others had settled in, they immediately brought their parents and siblings over too. At dinner, there were at least several dozen people gathered around the table, making the Lu residence noisy and chaotic. There was nothing to be done about it—with everyone in a state of panic, the concession was after all relatively safer, especially the Lu residence.

Yue Zhaoyun and the others worried only about imposing too much, but unexpectedly Lu Shicheng didn’t mind at all, not only providing food and drink for everyone, but also having the back building’s guest rooms tidied up one by one so everyone could settle in at the Lu residence that night.

In the midst of the busy chaos, Yu Peiling didn’t forget to pull Wen Tingli aside, teasing her: “He really has good cultivation and a good temper. Earlier Cao Renxiu’s mother accidentally vomited right at the study door, the smell was truly overwhelming, and Lu Shicheng didn’t even so much as frown, even helping bring towels and water. Times like this really show a person’s true character… if he weren’t your man, I’d definitely try to snatch him for myself.”

Wen Tingli laughed despite herself: “You still have the mood to joke with me. Go get some sleep quickly, you’ve been up all night by Sister Huang’s bed, your eyes are all red.”

Normally Yu Peiling put on great airs, particular about food and clothing to the extreme, disdainful of this and that at every turn. But when it really mattered, she showed remarkable loyalty, busying herself all night without a single complaint.

Facing this group of lovable companions, Wen Tingli’s heart constantly overflowed with tenderness. She discussed with Lu Shicheng whether to go to Hong Kong or Chongqing, and Lu Shicheng said without hesitation: “Hong Kong.”

“Why’s that?”

“Hong Kong’s film industry is relatively more prosperous. Besides, don’t forget your Resistance is only halfway filmed.”