Before setting out, Wen Tingli, worried about Ding Xiao’e and the other women workers, packed up a large pile of clean clothes and food overnight, and went with Lu Shicheng to the night school to find them.

The women workers’ night school had been established by Xiufeng using the box office proceeds from Spring Wind Blows Again; afterward, the “Spring Wind Blows Again—Women Workers Fund Foundation” had raised charitable donations from society, which were also continuously invested in the school’s development.

The school currently employed ten young female teachers who, besides teaching the women workers to read and write, were also responsible for recommending jobs to unemployed women workers. Additionally, the school had built a cafeteria and over forty dormitory rooms for teachers and students to eat and sleep in.

When Wen Tingli and Lu Shicheng arrived, basically no one was left at the school. Only Ding Xiao’e and an older woman worker surnamed Zheng remained in the dormitory. Ding Xiao’e was crouched by the bed, feeding Sister Zheng porridge.

“Miss Wen, Mr. Lu, why have you come here?! Don’t recklessly run around, there’s fighting going on outside!”

Wen Tingli asked urgently: “Where is everyone?”

“They’ve all left.” Ding Xiao’e said, still shaken. “With the fighting, everyone was scared and fled everywhere. Fortunately, before long, that lady lawyer surnamed Liu came with a big truck, saying she wanted to help everyone relocate to a safe place.”

Sister Yaqiao! She’d actually arrived even earlier than herself. Wen Tingli sighed with relief, moved—with Sister Yaqiao helping arrange things, at least there was no need to worry about the women workers being displaced.

Ding Xiao’e pointed worriedly at Sister Zheng on the bed: “We didn’t expect Sister Zheng to suddenly start coughing up blood just before boarding. Lawyer Liu, afraid Sister Zheng couldn’t handle the bumps on the road, settled her in the dormitory first, saying she’d find a doctor to come take a look, then figure out what to do next.”

“What about you?” Wen Tingli held Ding Xiao’e’s hand. “Why didn’t you leave?”

Ding Xiao’e grinned: “I couldn’t leave Sister Zheng alone.”

Wen Tingli looked away. In times of crisis, clever people all look out for themselves—only fools stick around out of loyalty, but it’s precisely such fools who are especially precious, inspiring deep respect.

She turned back to the patient on the bed, saying gently: “Sister Zheng, we’ll get you to a doctor right away.”

Sister Zheng tried to turn her face toward the inside of the bed to avoid coughing straight at Wen Tingli’s face.

“I’ve got tuberculosis, I’m probably beyond cure. Miss Wen, please take Xiao’e and go quickly, don’t worry about me anymore, I’ve already been enough of a burden.”

While speaking, she began coughing even more violently, the sound going “thunk, thunk,” as if her lungs would be coughed straight out of her throat the next second, and along with this jarring sound, a strange smell began to spread through the air.

Sister Zheng grew even more anxious, pulling the blanket up to cover her face. Lu Shicheng pushed Wen Tingli and Ding Xiao’e aside, bent down and lifted Sister Zheng up from the bed. Sister Zheng was startled: “No, that won’t do, Mr. Lu—”

There was still bloody spittle at the corner of her mouth, and this movement smeared it onto Lu Shicheng’s clothes. But Lu Shicheng paid it no mind at all, saying to Wen Tingli: “Let’s go, take her to Huiqun Hospital first.”

Ding Xiao’e was still stunned, but Wen Tingli, with practiced coordination, hurried ahead to open the dormitory door for Lu Shicheng. The group hurried to Lu Shicheng’s car; Sister Zheng began struggling again: “This won’t do, this will get your car dirty.”

Lu Shicheng, without another word, set her down in the back seat, then took out a clean handkerchief and handed it to Ding Xiao’e: “She’s sweating a lot, she might catch a cold on the road. Please help wipe her down for now.”

He was so courteous, thoughtful, and warm-hearted that even Ding Xiao’e relaxed her guard this time: “Alright.”

Wen Tingli said nothing the entire time, only gazing at Lu Shicheng sweetly. After the car had traveled a while, Wen Tingli asked Ding Xiao’e what her plans were going forward.

Ding Xiao’e said sorrowfully: “I don’t know. Once Sister Zheng is settled, I might go back to my old home in the countryside alone.”

Back to her old home in the countryside? That home which had never once cared whether Ding Xiao’e lived or died? Wen Tingli could almost picture Ding Xiao’e’s fate going forward.

“Why don’t you come with us to Hong Kong instead. Once we’re there, our company will need more hands—why don’t you come help me?”

“Me?” Ding Xiao’e was overwhelmed. “What help could I possibly be to Miss Wen? I don’t even know that many characters, I can’t do it.”

“You can.” Wen Tingli said with a wry smile. “It’s not that you can’t learn to read, it’s just that your living environment growing up never gave you the chance to learn characters. If you study hard following Miss Cao and the others, I believe you’ll pick it up within three months.”

Ding Xiao’e still hesitated: “I… can I really do it?”

“You really can. If you’re willing to come help me, I’ll be very happy. Xiao’e, you have no idea how much I admire your character.”

Wen Tingli’s tone was so sincere that Ding Xiao’e’s expression shifted from doubtful unease to sudden delight: “Alright, I’ll listen to you. I’ll go to Hong Kong with you all.”

Huiqun Hospital, being located in the French Concession, was temporarily unlikely to be disturbed by the flames of war—settling Sister Zheng there to recover was the ideal choice.

While the doctors were treating Sister Zheng, Wen Tingli called Liu Yaqiao to inform her of this, saving her the risk of making another trip.

After taking the medicine, Sister Zheng’s condition stabilized.

Wen Tingli and Ding Xiao’e both breathed a sigh of relief. Wen Tingli quietly went to the cashier’s office to pay Sister Zheng’s full medical expenses, only to find Lu Shicheng had already paid in advance.

Ding Xiao’e wanted to stay with Sister Zheng a bit longer, and they agreed Wen Tingli would come back in two hours to fetch her.

On the way back, Wen Tingli leaned her head wearily against Lu Shicheng’s arm. The two of them didn’t speak for a long while, but the silence held its own kind of understanding. Bored, she grabbed his hand, playing with his fingers one by one.

Passing by Cixin Hospital, Wen Tingli happened to look up, and suddenly her whole body jolted.

“What’s wrong?” Lu Shicheng noticed immediately.

“I thought I saw someone I know, but—it’s impossible.” She shook her head. “It must be my eyes playing tricks on me.”

Though she said this, her heart was in turmoil. Back at the Lu residence, she borrowed Lu Shicheng’s study, and under his puzzled gaze, went in and shut the door behind her, picking up the phone on the desk to call Head Nurse Liu.

“Sister Xiangzhi, I want to confirm something with you.” Wen Tingli swallowed. “Just now I thought I saw Dean Deng at Cixin Hospital, could I have been mistaken.”

Liu Xiangzhi was silent for a moment, then gave a definite answer: “You weren’t mistaken. She really has come back.”

Wen Tingli was stunned—why would she come back to Shanghai at a time like this? Shanghai could fall at any moment; if Dean Deng’s identity were accidentally exposed during this period—no, she couldn’t even bear to imagine how dangerous that would be.

But she heard Liu Xiangzhi say with a smile: “Dean Deng is right beside me now, she wants to say a few words to you.”

“Tingli.” A long-lost voice came from the other end of the line.

“Dean Deng?!” Wen Tingli’s heart pounded rapidly. “You’ve really come back? Why come back to Shanghai at a time like this?! It’s too dangerous!”

Deng Yi said in a kind tone: “Yes, just got back. Xiangzhi’s told me everything. This past year plus, you’ve grown so much, so quickly. I heard you’ve made many new-style films, and even established a foundation to help women workers?”

Wen Tingli could only wipe away tears, unable to say anything else.

Dean Deng suddenly sighed, asking in a deep voice: “I also heard your Xiufeng film company was just burned down?”

“Yes, but it’s nothing serious—the company burned down, but we’re still here. Sister Huang and I plan to head to Hong Kong to start over.”

“Good, good, good.” Dean Deng sighed with relief. “The dean is truly proud of you. Having made it this far, you’re already strong enough that few difficulties can defeat you going forward, I believe.”

“But what about you?” Wen Tingli said, not giving up. “Are you really going to stay?”

“This is my mission. This defensive war needs people like me to stay and contribute. Our soldiers and patients also need Cixin Hospital as backup support.”

She said in a playful tone: “Just like you—now Xiufeng and film have also become your mission and the burden on your shoulders, haven’t they?”

“But back then you were so severely injured, is your hand fully recovered now?”

“I can perform some simple surgeries now. It’ll keep getting better. Don’t forget, the operating room is my battlefield.” Dean Deng’s tone was so uplifted and relaxed, without any trace of sentimentality at all.

After a pause, Dean Deng said with a smile in her voice: “Tingli, until we meet again.”

Wen Tingli’s lips trembled uncontrollably.

Until we meet again—

Facing Dean Deng, she couldn’t bring herself to say these words no matter what.

She was afraid—afraid that after this parting, there would never be a day of reunion.

She would never forget that night two summers ago, when, with nowhere else to turn, she’d rushed recklessly into Dean Deng’s office to beg her for help. In that moment of crisis, Dean Deng had unhesitatingly given her a hand. And now, she could only watch helplessly as Dean Deng put herself in harm’s way.

Her heart ached as if cut, tears falling like rain, but she forced herself to say in a light tone: “Until we meet again. I only have one request: you and Sister Xiangzhi must take care of yourselves, I’ll take care of myself too. I believe, sooner or later, we’ll reunite with smiles on our faces.”

“Good, the dean promises you that. Let’s both look forward to that day arriving together.”

After hanging up, Wen Tingli slid down against the desk to sit on the floor, covering her face and weeping bitterly.

This city held too many precious memories, too many people worth missing. She was especially unable to let go of Dean Deng and Sister Xiangzhi—if it weren’t that Xiufeng had burned down and gone, and her Resistance, into which she’d poured so much heart and effort, was only halfway filmed, she absolutely wouldn’t have been willing to leave.

But, just as Dean Deng had said, this was their mission. She herself had her own mission too.

She wasn’t sure if Lu Shicheng had given instructions, but during this time no one came to knock on the door. She could release her pent-up emotions to her heart’s content, weeping loudly without reservation.

She cried until she was utterly exhausted, cried until her whole body was drained of strength, cried until her chest ached, and only then did she feel a bit lighter. She buried her head on her knees, wearily closing her eyes, resting for a long while, then used a handkerchief to wipe her tears clean, raised her head again, and calmly got up to go out as if nothing had happened.

Once out, she calmly gathered Yu Peiling, Gu Jie, and the others: “Is everything ready? We’re setting out.”

Life had to go on, and her exceptional quality lay precisely in this—no matter what happened, she could always adjust her state in the shortest time and set out again with a fresh face.

Principal Zou was busy arranging Wushi Girls’ School’s move south, and couldn’t leave for the time being. Hearing the news, she brought Yan Zhenzhen and Zhao Qingluo to the pier to see them off.

The pier was packed with people, everywhere one looked were ordinary people busy fleeing.

Wen Tingli stood together with them, occasionally jostled by the crowd; fortunately the four of them held each other’s hands tightly the whole time, or they would have been swept apart.

Yan Zhenzhen and Zhao Qingluo had agreed on the way not to cry, but the moment they saw Wen Tingli, they still couldn’t help but cry their eyes out.

Wen Tingli thought with a pang, remembering when she’d first transferred to Wushi Girls’ School, how much kindness Yan Zhenzhen and Zhao Qingluo had shown her—that period had been almost rose-colored in her memory, the campus often seeing the three of them walking together, plus Gao Xiaowen too. The four of them’s unbreakable friendship wouldn’t fade in a hundred years.

Today’s parting, who knew when they’d meet again. She embraced them on either side; the three of them’s sweat and tears mingled together.

“Stop crying, children.” Principal Zou said, her expression sorrowful. “Do you still remember Wushi’s school motto? The first item is to be optimistic. Right now is exactly when we need that optimistic spirit most. The principal firmly believes we’ll win this war.”

“Principal…” The three of them let out a collective whimper, like injured puppies, three heads turning simultaneously toward Principal Zou. Principal Zou, her face full of tender concern, gathered her students into her arms.

No matter what, in this mass relocation of Shanghai’s major schools inland, there’d be many teachers and students helping each other along the way, so Principal Zou wouldn’t be alone. And Zhao Qingluo and Yan Zhenzhen, since they were traveling with their parents, likely wouldn’t be left displaced either—thinking of this, Wen Tingli felt somewhat more at ease.

Time was truly running short. Wen Tingli, reluctant to part, left them to board the ship. Principal Zou and the other two waved to her from the pier, just as they had once seen off Gao Xiaowen, reluctant to leave for a long while.

Once aboard, Wen Tingli went to the washroom to clean the tear stains off her face, then came back out and dragged her suitcase out from under the bed to pack. Xiao Taozi, though a bit frightened yesterday, was still quite excited about riding a boat for the first time, pulling Yue Zhaoyun, Ding Xiao’e, and others to run around on the deck, when suddenly she came running in “thump thump thump,” saying: “Mr. Lu is here.”

Wen Tingli didn’t look up, continuing to crouch in front of her suitcase: “I was just about to go find you, which room are you in?”

But when Lu Shicheng came in, he unexpectedly closed the door partway, which was a rare occurrence. She looked up in surprise.

He pulled her up from in front of the suitcase: “I have something to tell you. I’ll disembark shortly, you all go ahead, I’ll follow in a few days.”

“Why?!” Wen Tingli was greatly startled.

“On one hand, I need to deal with Lu Kejian. On the other, I need to get all the equipment out of Dasheng Pharmaceutical Factory before I can leave. Think about it, that place is in the Chinese-administered district, and the factory’s equipment is new too—the Japanese have long had their eye on it. If the factory falls into Japanese hands, wouldn’t that completely betray my mother’s original intention in building the pharmaceutical factory? I can leave, but I must move the factory’s equipment and materials out along with me.”

Hearing this, Wen Tingli understood, but she was still worried: “How long will it probably take? There won’t be any danger, will there?”

Lu Shicheng laughed: “It’s fine, I’m not the only one in Shanghai who needs to relocate equipment—recently a large number of factories are planning to move to Chongqing too. Today they even established the ‘Shanghai Industrial and Commercial Circles Southward Relocation Alliance Committee.’ Everyone’s united in this crisis, nothing to worry about. Go ahead and take them to Hong Kong with confidence, I’ll arrive at most twenty days after you. Oh, and Kuang Zhilin will leave before me—once he arrives in Hong Kong, you can go directly to him. Remember, Uncle Kuang can be trusted at any time.”

This finally set Wen Tingli’s mind at ease, though deep down she still felt reluctant to part, wrapping her arms around his waist: “If anything comes up, I’ll go find Uncle Kuang. You’d better not be more than twenty days late—don’t you dare break your word.”

She crouched down and fished a small box out of her suitcase, handing it to him. “See if you like it.”

“A gift for me?”

“Mm.”

Lu Shicheng opened the box with quite a reverent attitude—inside was a shining platinum ring band.

Turning the ring, one could see a small line of engraving on the inside: youaretheoneforme.

He gazed at Wen Tingli, his heart filling with happiness.

She urged him: “Quick, try the size, hey hey, don’t put it on the wrong finger, it goes on the middle finger.”

He tried it on, and the size fit perfectly. Wearing it like this, he’d be able to see it at every moment.

He gravely pushed it further down toward the base of his finger, and held up his hand to show her: “Alright, from now on it’s part of my body.”

The two of them lingered in the cabin for a while. Lu Shicheng paced back and forth by the bed, checking Wen Tingli’s things repeatedly to make sure nothing had been left behind. While Wen Tingli wasn’t paying attention, he slipped a large-denomination check that he’d already prepared into her bag.

Wen Tingli, completely unaware, soon heard the captain say the ship was about to depart, and only then did Lu Shicheng, looking back three times with each step, disembark.

This time it was his turn to see her off at the pier. Wen Tingli leaned against the ship’s railing, gazing at him from afar.

Even from such a distance, she was sure he could see her every expression. She gently pressed her finger to her own lips, sending that invisible kiss gently blowing toward him.

Lu Shicheng, sure enough, lowered his head with a helpless laugh, then looked up, his eyes bright as he gazed at her.

Wen Tingli rested her chin on her hand, meeting his gaze—truly standing out from the crowd, so tall and beautiful, that just standing there she formed a scene all her own.

Finally, his figure became a small black dot, then disappeared entirely. Wen Tingli reluctantly withdrew her gaze, and reluctantly returned to the cabin.

Half a month later, the passenger ship successfully arrived at Hong Kong’s Tsim Sha Tsui pier; from far away, they could already see two long red banners fluttering on the pier.

【Warmly welcoming all members of Shanghai’s Xiufeng Film Company on their safe arrival in Hong Kong.】

【Warmly welcoming the famous film star Miss Wen Tingli, Film Queen Miss Yu Peiling, renowned director Miss Huang Yuanshan, and famous writer Miss Yue Zhaoyun to Hong Kong.】

Wen Tingli didn’t need to guess who’d made these two banners—Gao Xiaowen always did things this dramatically, making a big show of things before they’d even happened.

Just one glance, and she caught sight of Gao Xiaowen’s figure in the crowd. Gao Xiaowen was wearing an extra-long bright red dress today, with a wide-brimmed hat on her head, looking from afar like a moving flame.

They’d just disembarked when that flame came charging straight toward them, first embracing Wen Tingli fully, then pouncing on Huang Yuanshan on the stretcher.

Huang Yuanshan, having recuperated for all these days, looked much better in spirit, though her strength hadn’t fully recovered yet. Forcibly embraced by Gao Xiaowen, she couldn’t make a sound for a good while, weakly raising her hand and muttering: “Let go quickly, you surnamed Gao, are you trying to murder me the moment we meet?”

Everyone laughed. Because it was wartime, the pier was crowded and chaotic, men, women, old and young all exhausted—that hellish scene was heartbreaking to see. Most crucially, with people crowding people, Huang Yuanshan’s stretcher nearly got knocked to the ground.

Fortunately Gao Xiaowen had brought several friends to help; everyone fought with all their might to squeeze the group out of the crowd.

Gao Xiaowen’s apartment was in Central. The place wasn’t very big, and its luxury couldn’t compare to the Gao residence in Shanghai, but Gao Xiaowen herself was clearly living quite happily here.

Here, she was queen; everything was her own call. Though she toiled hard every day, even living in some fear, that sense of accomplishment was nothing like what she’d felt as a “second-class citizen” at the Gao household before.

Once the meal was set on the table, Gao Xiaowen, full of heroic spirit, clapped her hands in the middle of the room: “Everyone, let’s set aside our national and family grievances for now, and eat and drink to our hearts’ content tonight!”

Wen Tingli went looking everywhere for a newspaper, and also busied herself finding a phone in the apartment. By rights, Lu Shicheng had already set out from Shanghai ten days ago, but with the situation changing by the minute, Lu Shicheng might be stranded in Shanghai at any time. She called the Lu residence, but no one picked up for the longest time—if he were still in Shanghai, someone would definitely answer at the Lu residence; only if everyone had left Shanghai would such a large residence go unanswered.

This finally put Wen Tingli’s mind at ease—she guessed at most ten more days and she’d see Lu Shicheng.

That night, Wen Tingli, Yue Zhaoyun, Zhou Sao, and Xiao Taozi squeezed into one bed together, while the other bed was crowded with Ding Xiao’e, Yu Peiling, and Cao Renxiu.

Everyone had trouble even turning over, but perhaps because they’d temporarily escaped the flames of war, they slept unprecedentedly soundly that night.

Since Huang Yuanshan was still recovering, the task of finding housing fell to Wen Tingli. Early the next morning, Yue Zhaoyun and Ding Xiao’e stayed behind to take care of Huang Yuanshan, while Gao Xiaowen drove Wen Tingli and the others out, taking the chance to show them her “Aoshuang” cosmetics counter set up at Wing On Department Store in Hong Kong.

Gao Xiaowen hadn’t been exaggerating—her counter was doing tremendously well. Wen Tingli stood aside watching for a long while, genuinely happy for Gao Xiaowen from the bottom of her heart.

The group came out and got in the car, and Gao Xiaowen said: “The day I got your telegram, I started looking at properties nonstop. With so many of you, there’s no way you can have too few rooms, and it also needs to serve as an office at the same time. The best choice would be renting an entire building, but because of the tense situation, office rents in places like Central have gone up quite a bit compared to last year.”

“So what do we do?”

“Don’t worry, it happens there’s a small factory in Kowloon Tong that just closed down, and the owner is anxiously looking to sublet. There are worker dormitories too, I looked at it and was quite satisfied, just that the location is a bit remote—you all take a look yourselves later and see if it works, if not we’ll find somewhere else.”

Wen Tingli fell in love with it as soon as she saw it.

The whole factory site covered at least five acres. The front building was a gray-white two-story building, suitable for everyone’s offices; the middle factory floor had already been cleared out, with extremely high ceilings, perfectly suitable for building a soundstage in the future.

Behind it was a row of low, single-story buildings, about twenty rooms, each independent, ideal for use as worker dormitories.

Behind the dormitory windows grew large clusters of brightly colored frangipani, with an extremely rich fragrance, a full southern-country scene, delightful to the eye.

At both ends of the corridor were two large public bathrooms, which could be used respectively as a women’s and men’s worker bathroom. The rent was somewhat high, admittedly, but for Xiufeng’s current situation, it was considered a well-rounded place in every respect.

Cao Renxiu and the others had no objections at all, but Yu Peiling was somewhat disdainful—this dormitory, compared to her Western-style house in Shanghai, was about the size of a bathroom, and worst of all it didn’t even have a private bathroom.

But she also knew that finding a suitable place like this at this time wasn’t easy at all. When Wen Tingli asked for her opinion, she shrugged and said: “Let’s make do for now. I’ll find my own place separately later on. Sister Yue also likes quiet, so I could go house-hunting together with her then.”

Wen Tingli went along with her, happily contacting the owner herself to come sign the contract. When paying, she was surprised to discover an extra check for two hundred thousand francs (note) in her handbag—looking closer, it was from a bank account here in Hong Kong, available for withdrawal at any time.

She smiled sweetly, gently tucking the check back into her bag, and took out her own money to pay instead.

After moving in, Wen Tingli discussed with Huang Yuanshan the matter of re-shooting Resistance. With the company having suffered a fire, many things had to start over. To recover funds as quickly as possible, besides filming Resistance, they also planned to simultaneously rush-shoot Wild Geese Return South to ensure box office revenue.

But whether filming one production or two, they first needed a proper studio. Before Xiufeng’s new soundstage could be built, the best way was to rent. Renting a filming lot (note), renting cameras, renting an editing room—in short, save wherever possible.

Once opinions aligned, Wen Tingli immediately contacted local film companies; word spread quickly, and the next day, two companies proactively contacted them.

The first was called Xingfa, founded by a local businessman surnamed Hong, who had also made quite a few films back in the silent film era, but had later closed down due to poor management, now relying solely on renting out venues and equipment to earn money.

Boss Hong offered a very reasonable price, settling by total price regardless of how many days Xiufeng filmed, without requiring any deposit either. But after Wen Tingli visited this soundstage, she was quite disappointed—the camera was still an old-style Pathé Camel brand, the lighting equipment too old.

The other company had entirely first-rate equipment, but it wasn’t a film company at all—rather a foreign film stock manufacturer called Aphelin. Aphelin’s old chairman, named Philip, had been infatuated with film his whole life, and later, unwilling to keep buying tickets to watch other people’s films at the cinema, simply spent his own money to build a glass soundstage in the suburbs, at the same time investing heavily in the latest cameras, carbon arc lamps, and other equipment. In his leisure time, he’d hire a few actors to shoot scenic documentaries and comedies purely for his own amusement.

After the old chairman passed away, this soundstage had sat idle. His son, Young Philip, unwilling to see so much capital sitting idle, simply began renting it out externally. The one who contacted Wen Tingli was this company’s manager, named Robinson.

Wen Tingli was quite satisfied with Aphelin’s soundstage, but who knew that as soon as Robinson opened his mouth, it was an outrageous price—rental period of three months, rent of thirty thousand silver dollars, plus a required deposit of ten thousand silver dollars, and any damage during filming would need to be compensated at market price.

Tan Guiwang gasped: “This price is enough to build a whole new soundstage from scratch.”

The foreigner said smugly: “Nothing to be done—who told your company was in such a hurry to borrow a venue for filming? Currently there are only two openings locally—that other one, Xingfa, must have already contacted you too. Their conditions… tsk tsk, in any case, our Aphelin soundstage is the best in the local area, even some regular local film companies don’t have these conditions. You definitely won’t lose out.”

These words struck right at Xiufeng’s soft spot, but no matter how urgent they were, there was no reason to be treated as a fat sheep to be slaughtered. As Tan Guiwang was about to haggle further with the foreigner, Wen Tingli, smiling, simply placed her own business card on the table.

“Mr. Robinson, please pass my card to your boss, Young Philip, and also relay a message to him: we won’t pay a single cent in rent. However, once the film is released, Xiufeng can consider giving your company ten percent of the box office revenue. Of course, this is on the premise that both parties cooperate happily—if any friction arises midway, Xiufeng will terminate the cooperation with your company at any time.”

Robinson was dumbfounded: “This is simply wishful thinking, our Young Philip will absolutely not agree to your demand.”

Wen Tingli didn’t bother arguing with him further, getting up and walking off with a flourish. Back at the office, Cao Renxiu and Tian Ling angrily recounted what had just happened to Yu Peiling and the others.

Everyone offered up suggestions, but Huang Yuanshan just asked Wen Tingli one question: “Will this actually work?”

Wen Tingli smiled: “It’ll work, just wait and see.”

Two days later, Aphelin’s boss Young Philip, sure enough, took the initiative to invite Wen Tingli to coffee at the Peninsula Hotel.

Young Philip was about forty, with a typically English appearance. After two days of cooling off, his attitude had clearly softened, though his expression still remained cold on the surface. As soon as he sat down, he looked at Wen Tingli with an eagle-like gaze: “I’ve met quite a few film stars, none as shrewd as you. Miss Wen, have you never considered switching careers to go into business full-time?”

Wen Tingli smiled: “I’ll take that as a compliment from Mr. Philip.”

Young Philip took an unhurried sip of coffee: “You Chinese have a saying: this is one time, that was another time. Hong Kong isn’t Shanghai, and Xiufeng isn’t the Shanghai Xiufeng anymore. Miss Wen, the conditions you’ve proposed are so harsh, no company would agree to them.”

Wen Tingli said leisurely: “But we Chinese also have another common saying: with grain in your belly, your heart won’t panic. Though Xiufeng was forced to relocate to Hong Kong, its strength hasn’t diminished at all—Director Huang Yuanshan, Miss Yu Peiling, Miss Yue Zhaoyun, and I, Wen Tingli, any one of us could hold our own independently. What’s most precious is that we’ve always stayed united together—this is Xiufeng’s ‘grain in the belly.’ That day, Mr. Philip took the initiative to contact us—doesn’t that itself show you highly recognize Xiufeng’s influence?”

Philip sneered: “Now I understand why Miss Wen’s attitude is so firm—just because we’re the party that initiated contact, you’re betting I’ll bow my head first?”

Wen Tingli said earnestly: “Cooperation is valued for its sincerity, there’s never been talk of winning or losing. I’m just very certain of one thing: no matter who cooperates with our Xiufeng, they’ll gain the most, because since Xiufeng’s founding, we’ve never lost a battle in box office or reputation, and we’re very good at keeping pace with the times—not only your company knows this, other local film companies are well aware of it too.”

But to be honest, Xiufeng was still far behind big companies like Huangjin and Huamei. Even if the famous Huangjin relocated here, it might not open up the market in Hong Kong either—might not adjust to the new environment. Miss Wen would do best not to bargain with people using empty promises—what if the box office turns out disappointing? Wouldn’t I end up not earning a single cent? Better to be practical, and stop making such laughable demands.”

Wen Tingli smiled but said nothing.

Philip’s punch seemed to land on cotton; for a moment he had nothing to say. After waiting a bit, seeing Wen Tingli still unmoved, he could only put on a stern face: “It seems there’s nothing more to discuss. Goodbye.”

But just three days later, Aphelin’s side called Wen Tingli: “Miss Wen, Mr. Philip has agreed to your terms. If it’s convenient, please come to our company first thing tomorrow morning to sign the contract—everything will be done as Miss Wen said.”

The whole room cheered.

Wen Tingli said proudly, patting her chest: “Held out for all these days, and finally settled one big matter. Everyone relax tonight, I’ll go buy drinks.”

Actually she wanted to take the chance to call the Lu residence outside. She’d already been in Hong Kong over ten days, and Lu Shicheng still had no news at all.

What unsettled her most was that last night she’d had an extremely strange dream. In the dream she stood at the gate of Dasheng Pharmaceutical Factory, knowing full well Lu Shicheng was waiting for her in the office, but no matter how she walked around, she couldn’t find his office at all. In the end she anxiously shouted: “Lu Shicheng—”

She woke with a start in the middle of the night, sitting in the pitch-black dark gasping for breath, her chest feeling hollow, as if something huge were missing. After that she couldn’t fall back asleep, secretly telling herself that today, no matter what, she had to get in touch with Lu Shicheng.

Tan Guiwang and Cao Renxiu, worried the things were too heavy, hurried out with Wen Tingli. On the way, Tan Guiwang asked Wen Tingli excitedly: “Boss Wen, did you already anticipate Aphelin’s boss would agree to our terms?”

“From your professional standpoint, is Aphelin’s soundstage’s condition good or not?”

“Of course it’s good, impeccably good.”

“With such good conditions, yet a full three-month vacancy period—what does that tell you?”

“That their soundstage isn’t as popular as they claim it to be?”

Wen Tingli smiled: “The local small film companies can’t afford Young Philip’s asking price, and Young Philip doesn’t think much of these film companies’ influence either. Both sides are at a stalemate, and the machines keep depreciating in value the longer they sit, still needing maintenance staff every year—in the end, Young Philip loses the most. Now that a new film company has finally come south, and it’s a company with some reputation like Xiufeng at that, you think he can just sit still? The moment he initiated contact with us, he’d already lost thirty percent of the momentum.”

Tan Guiwang laughed angrily: “No wonder—and here he was acting so arrogant, especially that Robinson underneath him, talking as if he’d never even heard of Xiufeng, nearly making Little Cao and me lose our confidence.”

“Business people, for the sake of profit, often won’t reveal their true thoughts—that’s understandable too, but—” Wen Tingli raised her fine eyebrows, “as long as we ourselves recognize our own worth, the right to speak will always remain in our own hands. If, clearly holding a pearl, one lets others pressure them a bit and then sells themselves cheap like a plastic bead, that would be a true human tragedy.”

Cao Renxiu and Tan Guiwang were thoroughly convinced.

After finishing the shopping, Wen Tingli found a telephone office on the roadside to call the Lu residence—still no one answered. She called Kuang Zhilin’s residence too, also no response. On the way back, Little Cao and Tan Guiwang chattered on and on, while Wen Tingli remained silent the whole way.

Entering the house, Cao Renxiu shouted: “We’re back, Boss Wen bought lots of food, we’ve got fish and pork ribs to eat tonight!” But no one came out cheerfully to greet them—everyone’s expressions looked off, even Gao Xiaowen, usually the most talkative, was very quiet.

Wen Tingli keenly sensed something unusual, catching sight of Yue Zhaoyun quietly hiding something over there, and hurried over to snatch it away.

It was a newspaper. Wen Tingli stared at the headline above, motionless for a long while.

“What’s wrong?” Tan Guiwang and Cao Renxiu walked up behind Wen Tingli, and one look sent everything black before their eyes.

【Last night a fire broke out at Dasheng Pharmaceutical Factory, business tycoon Lu Shicheng perished in the flames.】

The two of them were horrified, scanning through the rest at a glance.

“Last night, a sudden explosion occurred at the Lu family’s Dasheng Pharmaceutical Factory, the fire on scene extremely fierce, taking a full three hours to extinguish. Afterward, over a dozen male corpses were found at the scene, one of them precisely the Nanyang Hongye’s Young Master Lu, Mr. Lu Shicheng. According to eyewitnesses at the time of the incident, Lu Shicheng was seen arguing with that Third Master Lu who had recently been expelled from the family, hence it is speculated that the other corpse is likely Lu Kejian—remnants of jade ornaments on the corpse also confirm this. As for the remaining dozen or so victims, they were precisely men from the Japanese military—

“The cause of the fire is still under investigation. Young Master Lu, passionate in his patriotism, personally founded Dasheng Pharmaceutical Factory. Since the outbreak of the war of resistance, the factory had continuously sent countless crates of emergency medicine to the front lines. The Japanese side had long had their eye on it. Now, with the relocation work not yet complete, Young Master Lu has tragically met with disaster—this is clearly a long-planned conspiracy. This paper is deeply grieved, deeply saddened, alas!”

A short front-page news article, every word piercing the heart. Cao Renxiu, afraid Wen Tingli would collapse, hurried to support her arm, but unexpectedly Wen Tingli pushed Cao Renxiu’s hand away with a relaxed expression, saying with a smile: “Fake, don’t believe it. There’s no telling how many fake news stories like this circulate every year, I’m sick of seeing them, really annoying.”

Everyone looked at her with worried eyes. Yue Zhaoyun wiped her eyes and came forward to support Wen Tingli, who withdrew her arm: “Why are you supporting me like that? Sister Yue, even you’re taking this fake news seriously?”

Her face full of smiles, she casually piled the food she’d bought onto the table, then went to the washroom alone to wash her hands.

Huang Yuanshan and Ding Xiao’e followed close behind her; Wen Tingli said, bewildered: “I already said that’s fake news. I just called the Lu residence—Lu Shicheng is already on his way to Hong Kong.”

Without another word, she shut the bathroom door, but right after, a muffled “thump” sound came from inside.

Xiao Taozi, seeming to sense something, ran to the door and pounded on it: “Sister.”

Everyone hurriedly kicked the door open, and saw Wen Tingli collapsed by the sink; several people fumbled to carry her out. Fortunately there was a private clinic nearby, and Gao Xiaowen dragged the doctor over to the house.

In the evening, Wen Tingli finally regained consciousness. She stared blankly at the ceiling for a while, then tried to throw off the blanket and get out of bed. Huang Yuanshan, alarmed, hurried to hold her down: “Where are you going? The doctor said you need to rest.”

“I’m fine.” Wen Tingli looked at Huang Yuanshan. “Not only am I fine, Lu Shicheng will be fine too. I’ve known Lu Shicheng this long, I’ve never once seen him break his word. He’ll definitely come find me, Sister Huang, trust me.”

Huang Yuanshan’s throat tightened; she hurriedly turned away to wipe her tears. She hadn’t dared tell Wen Tingli that it wasn’t just the Minyue Evening News that had reported Lu Shicheng’s death—Hujiang Bao, Dashen Morning Post, even the local authoritative Huashang Bao had all successively confirmed this news.

Hujiang Bao had even published photos of items from the fire scene—one watch had been burned beyond recognition, but from the shape of the burnt metal band remaining, it could still be identified as the distinctive style Lu Shicheng always wore. She’d dealt with Lu Shicheng many times too, and was certain of this point.

Most terrifying of all, just now, Dong Qinfang had called to say Old Master Lu, apparently having suffered too severe a blow, had already fallen critically ill. This news was currently known to only a few people, but the papers would soon publish related news.

She couldn’t imagine how long it would take Wen Tingli to finally face reality. Over the following days, no one dared mention this matter in front of Wen Tingli, and Wen Tingli herself never brought it up either, even refusing to touch a newspaper.

On the surface, she seemed no different than usual—first thing every morning she went as promised to find Philip to sign the contract, and back home discussed the script for Wild Geese Return South with Yue Zhaoyun. In the afternoon she’d go with Gao Xiaowen to play mahjong, learn Cantonese, and make friends with shareholders of several local department stores, witty remarks flowing freely at the table, several ladies taking an instant liking to her.

At night she’d return and tell Xiao Taozi stories.

She was so busy she had no time to think at all, so busy no one’s words to her got a moment’s attention.

Sometimes though, she went to sleep abnormally early, retreating to her room before eight, and no matter who knocked, she couldn’t be woken.

No one could persuade her out of it, because she remained so composed. She never vented, never confided, all her emotions tightly sealed away by herself.

Within a couple days, Philip’s side was ready, and Xiufeng brought people to officially begin re-shooting Resistance in the studio. This gave Wen Tingli even more reason to stay busy. A week passed like this, and this noon, Philip’s manager Robinson suddenly ran in saying: “Miss Wen, someone from Shanghai has come to see you.”

Wen Tingli sprang up at once, accidentally kicking over the stool beneath her.

“It’s a very distinguished-looking gentleman, waiting for you in the reception room.” There was no trace of Wen Tingli’s figure left where she’d been—she ran to the reception room at whirlwind speed, and going in, the joy on her face instantly froze.

It wasn’t Lu Shicheng—it was Kuang Zhilin. He looked at least ten years older, his hair entirely white, his complexion haggard beyond words, as if he’d just survived a severe illness.

“Miss Wen.” Wen Tingli watched blankly as he walked toward her; reunited with an old friend, she felt no joy at all, only overwhelming dread. Kuang Zhilin began speaking to her, but his voice seemed muffled through a thick layer, barely audible.

Gradually, she seemed to understand a little:

Still searching. The Lu family’s clan members were also trying to make their way to Shanghai, but basically hope was slim.

It was Third Master Lu and the Japanese who did it.

Third Master Lu had studied abroad in Japan in his early years, and knew some students from Japanese military academies. Last time the Japanese attacked Beiping, Lu Kejian happened to recognize two of them, and used Dasheng Pharmaceutical Factory as a pledge of loyalty, asking these two Japanese to help him seize back control of the Lu family’s affairs in Nanyang. Once successful, he’d return to Nanyang to take charge, and hand over all the Lu family’s assets in Shanghai to the Japanese.

On the night of the incident, Lu Shicheng was at the factory directing the relocation. Lu Kejian brought a large group of Japanese soldiers to Dasheng Pharmaceutical Factory to make trouble for Lu Shicheng; presumably because there was no hope of escape, Lu Shicheng detonated the explosives he’d hidden in the warehouse beforehand.

Lu Kejian and the Japanese were blown to pieces on the spot, but correspondingly, Lu Shicheng hadn’t escaped the disaster either. By the time Kuang Zhilin rushed there upon hearing the news, the scene was already a sea of flames.

So the newspaper hadn’t gotten it wrong. Lu Shicheng really was dead.

But Wen Tingli didn’t believe it, wasn’t willing to believe it at all.

But the one telling her this was Kuang Zhilin, a man who had practically watched Lu Shicheng grow up—he couldn’t possibly fail to recognize even Lu Shicheng’s belongings. No, some powerful force within her still supported her—she didn’t believe he would break his word, he had never once broken his word to her.

Kuang Zhilin softly sobbed: “The Lu family is now in complete chaos. Lawyer Cheng and I have insisted on not announcing Young Master Cheng’s death—Old Master Lu is currently in no state to handle affairs, and once Young Master Cheng’s death is announced, it would immediately cause a great upheaval in Nanyang, so we’re delaying as much as possible, but we all know this is just deceiving ourselves—there’s not a single trace at the scene that could prove Young Master Cheng is still alive.”

He forced himself to pull together, setting a suitcase he’d brought down in front of Wen Tingli.

“This is what Young Master Cheng left with me earlier. He was worried that during his boat trip to Hong Kong, Miss Wen might have some urgent need to find him, so he set aside a sum of money with me in advance, to be remitted to you together if necessary.”

It seemed to be quite a large sum of money, but Wen Tingli’s soul had already drifted off to who knows where.

“Also, these are some of Young Master Cheng’s personal effects. I thought Miss Wen might want to keep them as a memento, so I brought them along too.”

The word “effects” struck Wen Tingli at once. She turned her head sharply, staring fixedly at the items in the box, and at a glance saw that scorched watch.

“Is this everything?”

“What?”

“Everything found related to him at the fire scene—is this all of it?”

“Yes.” Kuang Zhilin’s voice trembled.

Wen Tingli bent her head over the suitcase, rummaging through it. As she searched, a strange light suddenly burst forth in her eyes: “He’s not dead!”

Kuang Zhilin seemed not to understand.

“I said Lu Shicheng isn’t dead!”

Her expression was so calm, her eyes bright and full of spirit, her whole face bursting with a strange radiance. As she spoke, she raised her own right hand to show Kuang Zhilin: “Before I left, I gave Lu Shicheng a platinum ring. He wore it on the middle finger of his left hand, and he told me he’d wear it always—and this pile of belongings doesn’t have that ring.”

Kuang Zhilin looked at Wen Tingli in utter shock, but gradually, the shock was replaced by wild joy.

“You mean—”

“Yes, he’s not dead, that corpse isn’t him! He might be injured, but he’s definitely still alive.” She gripped Kuang Zhilin’s hand tightly, her tone full of joy yet not lacking composure. “That night’s explosion was a trap he set himself. He was afraid that if the Japanese discovered his identity wasn’t dead, they’d come after him, so he doesn’t dare contact us for now. He must be on his way to Hong Kong right now!”