Huayu: From charlatan to great entertainer

Chapter 400: National Blood and Tears, An Epic of Justice (Part 1) (Bonus Chapter for Xu Yin Qing Lan)
1983, Champaign, Illinois, USA.

A Chinese family with an intellectual background lives in a villa located on Main Street, not far from the University of Illinois.

The drone's aerial footage takes the viewer's thoughts from afar to near, from the vibrant spring scenery of Champagne to the kaleidoscope-like window of a villa's attic.

Before I saw the person, I heard his voice first.

On the big screen, a little Chinese girl's childlike voice was sweet and endearing: "Grandpa, where is this?"

Li Xuejian, playing the 77-year-old Zhang Naifan, lay on a recliner. Upon hearing this, he raised his eyelids slightly and looked at the old photos that his lively granddaughter was pulling out of a box.

"This is Huaiyin, our hometown."

A retired old man who graduated from Nanjing Central University and served as an official in northern Jiangsu during the Republic of China era, and who once promoted the restoration of the industries of patriotic industrialists such as Zhang Jian, had a glimmer of life in his cloudy eyes.

As Iris Chang unearthed more and more photos, Zhang Naifan's eyes widened and his voice grew increasingly deep as he recounted the story.

It wasn't until his granddaughter held an old photograph of the Battle of Shanghai that he found out.

In 1937, Zhang Naifan was the magistrate of Taicang County.

Taicang is a county town located at the border of Jiangsu Province and Shanghai. During the Battle of Shanghai, it was responsible for providing supplies to the front line, but later fell into the hands of the Japanese invaders.

The old man, his white hair growing shorter from scratching, held a cup of tea in his hands. He glanced at his granddaughter, whose eyes were clear and bright, and his gentle voice carried the unique rhythm of the Huaiyin dialect, like the gentle lapping of the Huai River.

"Xiaoru, shall Grandpa tell you a story?"

"Okay!"

The light in the attic was dim and warm.

Xiao Zhang Chunru sat cross-legged on the floor, the wooden floor creaking, and dust slowly floated in the slanted beam of light.

The young female writer holds a blue and white porcelain teacup in both hands, with two braids hanging over her shoulders, the ends of her hair swaying gently with her breath, playful and lively.

"That year, the rice granary in Taicang burned for three days and three nights, the firelight making the night sky look like blood-stained silk..."

He lightly tapped the teacup with his fingertips, the porcelain emitting a clear, resonant sound that contrasted sharply with his deep, solemn narration.

"Amidst the blood and fire, the enemy was fierce and stubborn. Our soldiers and civilians fought bravely and heroically, building a wall with their flesh and blood, advancing wave after wave, fighting to the death and not retreating an inch of land."

Iris Chang's parents were both highly educated professors at Harvard, and her grandfather and maternal grandfather were both Kuomintang officials. From a young age, she was used to listening to adults talk about their family and country, and she was extremely engrossed in it.

Blood-red memories suddenly surged in Zhang Naifan's mind. He paused and said, "On November 12th, Shanghai fell, and the enemy advanced rapidly westward along the Yangtze River."

"One month later, on December 13th, Nanjing fell..."

The wind outside the attic suddenly picked up, and the sunlight, sharp as a knife, slashed obliquely through the windowpanes.

Li Xuejian's hoarse, low voice was incredibly powerful, instantly lifting the spirits of everyone in the audience.

After watching the promotional video and the "As You Wish" music video, viewers who had a basic understanding of this history recalled those unbearable scenes.

As a child, Iris Chang felt deeply moved by her grandfather's story and unconsciously gripped the teacup tightly, her fingers turning slightly white beneath the blue-and-white glaze.

The camera pans horizontally, and the bright sky outside the attic window seems to darken a bit along with Li Xuejian's voice.

The composition here is extremely meaningful, with the attic window acting as a natural frame, juxtaposing Zhang Naifan with the sky outside the window.

The window frame divides the image, one half showing the silhouette of an old man, and the other half showing flowing clouds.

This 77-year-old patriotic man was in a foreign land, and the edge of the picture frame was the fence and prison of historical destiny, trapping him forever in 1937.

Everyone present involuntarily straightened their backs, feeling quite horrified by this desolate and bizarre composition.

Directors such as Martin Scorsese and Wang Xiaoshuai have keenly noticed the changes in scene brightness.

The slanting, dim beams of light shone through the cracks in the old wooden window, and dust particles floated in the beams of light.

This interplay of light and shadow seems to simulate the antiquity of historical archives, while also suggesting the fragmentation of memory. The interweaving of light and dust is like historical dust that has not been wiped away.

The sky outside the small attic has become a crucial image in the film for discerning viewers:
The sky is the canvas of history.

Zhang Naifan seemed to be asleep, and after recounting the fall of Nanjing, he fell silent.

He didn't want to talk about it, couldn't bear to talk about it, and didn't know how to talk about it.

"Grandpa, and then? I know Jinling, Auntie sent us osmanthus candy from there!"

Young Iris Chang was impatient; at such a young age, she could not yet imagine the national tragedy that spanned from the Battle of Shanghai to the fall of Nanjing.

Li Xuejian, playing Zhang Naifan, smacked his lips as Zhang Chunru's mother, Zhang Yingying, walked up to the attic in high heels, looking at Zhang Naifan with a helpless expression.
"Dad, don't talk to Chunru about these things, she's still young..."

"Hehe, good! Good!" The old man was happy that someone had come to his rescue, while Zhang Chunru pouted and looked at her mother with dissatisfaction.

"You won't tell me? I'll find out when I grow up!"

Zhang Naifan was amused by his adorable granddaughter, and he held her in his arms and took her to play on her favorite rocking chair.

With special effects, the sky outside the attic in the little girl's eyes subtly changes color after Zhang Naifan mentions Nanjing.

The leaden-gray clouds, like solidified ink blocks, pressed heavily against the mottled window frames of the attic, while dust swirled in the beams of light, resembling leaflets scattered throughout Nanjing in 1937.

For a second, the big screen froze on this "sky of history".

In a stunning close-up, a sharp ray of light shines through the clouds, like a quenched knife attempting to tear open a wound in the sky.

Deep within Zhang Chunru's pupils, a profound power was slowly awakening as the clouds collapsed.

The opening, which lasted just over ten minutes, already conveyed a profound sense of history.

Martin Scorsese was watching the film for the second time. He had studied this period of history in detail, and now, combined with Lu Kuan's speech at the beginning of the film, he felt a different kind of meaning.

In this scene featuring Iris Chang, the setting provided for the director was extremely cramped—just the world behind this small attic window.

But this genius director made perfect use of this simple canvas, using the attic window as a natural camera cues and "frame," and he played with it in countless ways!

At the beginning of the film, Li Xuejian, who plays Zhang Naifan, enters the frame. Lu Kuan uses a low-angle wide-angle lens to shoot Zhang Naifan sitting by the window.

The window frame separates him from the sky outside, creating a sense of powerlessness as an individual is imprisoned by the torrent of history.

Iris Chang always maintained a safe distance from the attic window; this was a "firewall" set up by the adults, who couldn't bear to let such a young mind touch that tragic memory.

But at the end of the first act, Zhang Naifan places his granddaughter on his lap, and combined with her words, "I'll grow up and see for myself," the character's language and the film's visual language blend perfectly.

In the first-person perspective of young Iris Chang, she sits in her grandfather's lap, her gaze unconsciously drifting towards the window.

The camera then rises, and the view outside the window gradually expands—

She has begun to prepare to gaze into the abyss of history!

Viewers were subtly drawn into that period of history by the opening scene, but professional directors such as Wang Xiaoshuai and Martin were all amazed by this cinematic narrative told through a frame!

What a brilliant idea!
The weather in Berlin was chilly and overcast. Wearing glasses, Wang Xiaoshuai unconsciously unbuttoned his coat and continued to concentrate intently on exploring the "harmony in diversity" of this director.

Martin doesn't understand traditional Chinese painting, but Wang Xiaoshuai has some knowledge of it.

The window frame is like a picture frame, which is clearly the "corner composition" of the Song Dynasty court painting. It is exactly the same as the technique of Ma Yuan's "Treading the Song" where only a corner of the rocks is shown and the blank space is full of meaning!
This window is the exit of Zhang Naifan's memories, the entrance to Zhang Chunru's awakening, and Zhang Yingying's silent wound!
Having figured this out, the sixth-generation directors felt a chill run down their spines.

He had to admit that even if Lu Kuan were to make an art film, his artistic skill and cinematic language would far surpass those of the "Seven Gentlemen."

Painful realization.

As the film continues, the audience is completely immersed in the scene the director has set up, patiently waiting for the story to unfold.

The sky in Iris Chang's eyes has changed slightly; a reversal of subjective and objective perspectives has revealed that the person standing before everyone is now 27 years old.

"Wow!" A gasp came from the audience; the resemblance was striking.

19-year-old Liu Yifei's face and figure were already similar to Zhang Chunru's. By using makeup to make her look older, she looked exactly like Zhang Chunru in the movie.

This is the masterpiece of the team that did the makeup and styling for Zhang Manyu in "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button".

A line of simple subtitles in the upper left corner of the big screen was stamped with the date: December 14, 1995.

History always seems to be full of too many coincidences—

On December 13, 1937, the Japanese invaders captured Nanjing, and the following day they began to carry out large-scale burning, killing, and looting in civilian areas.

Nearly 12 years later, on December 14, 1994, Zhang Chun, who was lost in thought in the attic missing her grandfather, went downstairs and set off with her companions to participate in a community event.

This photo exhibition was initiated by the Association for the Preservation of Historical Facts of the War of Resistance Against Japan, with the assistance of the local Chinese community.

After World War II, the Japanese government evaded its historical responsibility for a long time, leading to an identity crisis among overseas Chinese, especially second- and third-generation immigrants.

The Society for the Study of Chinese History was established to enhance the sense of cultural identity among the descendants of Chinese people through history education.

The scene shifts to the Cupertino neighborhood on the outskirts of San Jose, where a car comes to a smooth stop.

Xiao Liu, who plays Zhang Chunru, has a neat ponytail and her sleeves are slightly rolled up, revealing her slender wrists.

At this time, she had just finished writing "Biography of Qian Xuesen". Since she switched to the journalism department in college, she has had a strong interest in writing about historical figures and biographies.

Iris Chang and her companion walked toward the community center. She had a delicate face and her skin was slightly pale from spending so much time in the archives, but the corners of her lips were naturally upturned, revealing a restrained vitality.

19-year-old Liu Yifei is quite adept at portraying such a character.

The camera shifts to the community's photo exhibition corridor, following her steps as she slowly moves forward, revealing one black-and-white historical photograph after another in the dim light.

The first thing she saw was the streets of Nanjing after its fall in 1937.

Mountains of civilian corpses, the ruins of burned houses, and close-ups of Japanese soldiers standing with knives beside the victims, their faces contorted in a sinister grin.

At the corner, a set of photos made her suddenly stop in her tracks.

A disheveled mother was brutally beheaded, and as she lay dying, she still tightly held her baby in her arms.

Iris Chang was stunned, staring at the scene in disbelief.

She had heard her grandfather talk about the Battle of Shanghai and the Nanjing Massacre since she was a child, but the firewall set up by her elders was far more glaring than such horrific pictures!

A close-up shot focuses on the actress Liu Yifei, whose pupils contract sharply amidst the interplay of light and shadow on the big screen, her jaw unconsciously clenching.

Here again, Lu Kuan's genius composition is evident:

The camera only gave Liu Yifei a fleeting close-up, then filmed her expression and movements from the side and behind. The scene of that historical tragedy was presented to all viewers in the center of the screen!
From the side, low-to-medium angle, Iris Chang's gradually hunched back appears to be bearing an invisible weight.

A beam of light pierced through the gallery's blinds, casting sharp shadows on her face. Tears welled in her eyes but did not fall, conveying a restrained sense of awe and sorrow.

She suddenly reached out to touch the photo frame, wanting to touch this shocking piece of history.

Suddenly, the words my grandfather uttered when I was a child came to mind: "After the fall of Nanjing..."

Suddenly, something changed on the big screen, and directors like Wang Xiaoshuai and Johnnie To widened their eyes instantly!
As the camera pans across the scene, it follows Iris Chang as she moves through the dimly lit corridor, presenting the horrific photos in close-up overlays.

As each photo flashes by, the image briefly freezes, creating a sense of visual lag and simulating the fragmentation of memory.

As Iris Chang reminisces about the attic in 1983, the young girl looks up at the silhouette of Zhang Naifan, the shadows of the window frame and the sky outside seem to have completely transformed into a prison!
The camera then pans to the photos in the art exhibition, with a black and white film-like flashback inserted.

Reality, childhood, history!
Within ten seconds, the three timelines merged into one in front of Iris Chang, bringing great shock to the character!
It also greatly impressed the audience!
Wang Xiaoshuai, standing next to Martin Scorsese, couldn't help but turn his head and say, "Is this a multi-camera montage?"

Old Martin smiled slightly: "Listen again."

Wang Xiaoshuai suddenly looked at the screen again—

The gallery where Iris Chang was located was filled with the sound of sobbing and the slight vibration of the glass display cases;
The faint sounds of gunfire and the sinister laughter of the Japanese soldiers can be heard through the photograph;

And there was also Iris Chang's own increasingly amplified heartbeat and tinnitus, growing louder and louder!

Finally, a sharp, explosive sound drowned out all the other sounds, and then all was quiet.

The audience members in the theater were also swept up in the emotional rollercoaster, their breathing becoming rapid.

The screen becomes a black hole, and through light and shadow and multiple voices, it feels as if the film is tearing you into that painful history!
Wang Xiaoshuai stared in disbelief, swallowing hard after a long while, muttering to himself, "Polyphonic montage..."

It's not just him.

Martin, festival president Koslick, Golden Bear Lifetime Achievement Award recipient Francesco Rossi, and South Korean director Hong Sang-soo.

All the directors in the audience with a certain level of film appreciation were truly horrified!
Earlier, when Iris Chang reached out to touch the photo frame, the light and shadow outside the corridor cut out stripes of light and dark on Iris Chang's face, creating a strong sense of tearing apart between the character and history and reality.
Just as the sharp, violent noise in Iris Chang's mind subsided, her hand actually touched the cold photo frame. The chilling aura emanating from history made her tremble uncontrollably.

After the polyphonic montage ended, the beam of light suddenly illuminated her entire profile!

From tearing to illumination, it foreshadows the grand ambition she secretly made after her mental breakdown—to mend.

To mend this shocking historical wound.

Within the first twenty minutes of the film's opening, the shock of ordinary viewers, the sighs of professional directors, and the collective clamor in the minds of all the professional producers, actors, and practitioners at the Berlin Film Festival were all deeply moved!
Whether it's Lu Kuan's directing techniques or Liu Yifei's acting style, they both brought them a double conquest of art and soul!

The opening scene is crucial, which is why Lu Kuan chose to present these twenty minutes of footage in this way.

The biggest advantage of a biographical film is that the timeline is already set.

However, its biggest disadvantage is that the timeline cannot be changed.

Even if a hundred directors were to make a film about Iris Chang, the only way to portray her life and experiences would be to do so based on her biography.

But how can we write new content within such a restrictive subject matter and tell new stories on the big screen using light, shadow, sound, and camera work?
This is not the difference between mediocrity and excellence; it is the insurmountable gap between excellence and genius!
The directors in the audience couldn't help but ask themselves: can such a brilliant idea be acquired through practice?
Everyone has their own answer.

The film enters a calmer phase, with the initial shock of the first two scenes lessening, and the narrative and plot begin to unfold naturally and smoothly.

Ding Yuanzheng of the History Society patiently introduced this history to the Chinese and foreign groups visiting the photo exhibition. When he turned around, he saw Iris Chang quietly shedding tears and felt that she looked familiar.

Before he could speak, Zhang Chunru, wiping away tears, eagerly asked, "Excuse me, may I make a copy of the photo? I'd like to borrow it."

Ding Yuan, who had long been at odds with the cunning right wing, looked her up and down suspiciously, worried that there might be some kind of underlying conspiracy: "What do you want the photos for?"

Even an ordinary person would find it unbearable to look at; would anyone really want to collect these horrific pieces of evidence?

Iris Chang took out a business card from her bag, her emotions calming down a bit: "My name is Iris Chang. I'm a professional writer. Have you heard of 'Silkworm: The Biography of Qian Xuesen'?"

Ding Yuan's eyes widened in surprise, then he glanced at the business card in his hand: "Hello! Ms. Zhang, of course I've heard of you, but I haven't read your business card yet, I'm sorry!"

“It’s alright.” Zhang Chunru smiled gently. “My grandfather was one of the logistics personnel in the Battle of Shanghai. I have heard about the history of the Battle of Shanghai and the Nanjing Massacre since I was a child.”

She paused, as if gathering her courage to look at the photograph she had just seen: "But this is the first time I've ever seen a real photograph, and I was shocked."

The female writer composed herself: "I want to write a book..."

Her gaze was complex, but when she looked up again, it was radiant with a different kind of brightness: "Yes! I want to write a book, a book about the Nanjing Massacre."

"I want to use words to tell all those who, like me, were previously unaware of this, that there was once such a painful history to witness."

The camera shifts, and Zhang Chunru, who is talking to Ding Yuan by the window, enters the frame alone. The window frame is still there, along with her increasingly determined gaze.

This is the Kubrick gaze that Mr. Lu is known for.

In the scene, Liu Yifei, who plays Zhang Chunru, breaks the fourth wall through the camera and has a direct eye contact with the audience!
There was no extreme anger, no painful tearing.

No sentimentality, no shouting.

Iris Chang's lips turned down slightly, revealing a calm determination.

The close-up shots vividly showcased the expressive eyes of actress Liu Yifei to the audience:

Without flinching or avoiding, he stares straight ahead, his pupils steady and clear, without a hint of tears, yet conveying a silent questioning.

Martin Scorsese, watching the film for the second time, was suddenly struck by a realization!

Previously, all his attention had been on director Lu Kuan, but now he discovered another intriguing meaning in Liu Yifei's eyes.

She made the traditional Kubrick gaze more interactive, a look that seemed less like an accusation and more like an invitation!
Who can convey the meaning of an invitation through their eyes?

She invites the audience to confront history with her, to complete this historical work with her, and to become witnesses to this painful memory!
At this moment, Liu Yifei's eyes became the vessel of the truth, and all the audience members present became accomplices in history.

The young actress's inner monologue through her eyes is truly amazing!

The camera left the scene blank, not giving Ding Yuan's answer; the rest of the story is already known.

Iris Chang reappeared at the window, on a train rumbling forward.

She was going to visit Shao Ziping in New Haven, Connecticut, in the northeastern United States.

He was an active member and important member of the patriotic organization History and Culture Society, and also the supporter and collaborator mentioned most often in Iris Chang's diary.

Shao Ziping was born in 1936 at Jinling Gulou Hospital. His father, Shao Yulin, was a diplomat during the Republic of China era, serving as Consul General in Yokohama, Japan, and Ambassador to South Korea.

After the Kuomintang's defeat and retreat to Taiwan, Shao Ziping moved with his family to Taiwan Province, and later went to the United States.

Iris Chang found this patriotic scholar, who was already over sixty years old, in Rhinetown, near Yale University.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, the straightforward female writer spoke her mind: "Dr. Shao, I saw many pictures about the Holocaust at a community art exhibition in Los Angeles. Mr. Ding said that you provided them."

“Yes, in 1990 I launched the ‘Meeting the Victims of the Nanjing Massacre’ in New York, and collected historical materials through Mr. Zheng and others from the Chinese newspaper business.”

Shao Ziping looked steadily at the like-minded female writer in front of him: "An American named David Magee provided us with 13 rolls of unpublished film."

"After processing and verification, we discovered that the images were secretly taken by his father, John Magee, during the Nanjing Massacre in 1937, and fully document the atrocities committed by the Japanese army in burning, killing, and looting!"

Iris Chang was thrilled, never expecting to obtain firsthand historical materials so easily, but she still needed to carefully verify them.

It wasn't that she distrusted Shao Ziping and others; it was that, having already completed a published book, she knew that this kind of subject matter required utmost caution.

This feeling, similar to "feeling apprehensive about returning home," is the same as that of Lu Kuan, who decided to make a film in 2002 but only started five years later.

This matter concerns the deep-seated blood feud of our nation, and we must be extremely cautious.

Iris Chang and Shao Ziping talked for a long time, earnestly beginning to study this period of history, striving to dissect and analyze every detail, presenting it to the readers without any flaws.

Only in this way can we prevent slander and denial.

Shao Ziping instructed his wife to prepare a guest room for the young Zhang Chunru and also lent her his car.

“Iris Chang, Yale University has the original manuscript of Minnie Vautrin’s Diary, which was discovered by missionaries in 1985. In 1990, Ms. Smoley of the Yale Divinity School Library made the diary into microfilm.”

"You can borrow it if you need it."

At this moment, Iris Chang was full of fighting spirit. She smiled and nodded to Shao Ziping, "Thank you, Dr. Shao, thank you for your trouble!"

Shao Ziping was surprised to find that this young Chinese-American female writer seemed to have a naturally calm and serene mindset, and her gaze was always so gentle every time he looked at her.

However, he still cautioned, "Be very careful of Japanese right-wingers. We were followed and chased when we went to Magee's house to pick up the film. They are crazy! Very dangerous! You must be careful!"

"Well, I see!"

Iris Chang couldn't wait a moment longer. After being persuaded by Shao Ziping to have lunch, she hurriedly drove to Yale University.

The autumn colors of Rhine Town flashed past the car window, with red brick buildings intertwined with golden plane trees, exuding an academic atmosphere in the tranquility.

Iris Chang's car drove through the town center and turned onto the tree-lined road leading to Yale University.

On campus, Gothic spires cast solemn shadows in the sunlight as students hurried by, books in hand.

She parked her car in front of the theological library, where the stone steps, etched with the marks of time, seemed to silently bear witness to the weight of history.

Just like Xiao Liu's previous experience of experiencing life, from today onwards, Iris Chang began her life of going from morning till night in the seminary library.

The female writer held a copy of "The Diary of Minnie Vautrin," sometimes sitting quietly, sometimes walking briskly, and sometimes pacing hesitantly.

In the close-up, actress Liu Yifei opens a copied text and gently strokes the record of December 23, 1937, with her fingertips—

"Another 27 women were rescued today, but 12 were still taken away..."

Her fingertips paused briefly on the word "woman," the edges of her nails turning white from the pressure, as if she were touching unspoken fears.

When she read the line "The little girl huddled under the podium for three days, afraid to make a sound," Iris Chang unconsciously held her breath.

The camera zooms in on her taut lines, a drop of sweat sliding down her collarbone, much like the "silent tears of women" described by Minnie Vautrin.

The afternoon sun shone through the stained glass, casting blood-red spots of light onto the pages of the diary, overlapping with Minnie Vautrin's hastily written English words such as "Japanese army" and "bayonet."

Iris Chang's spiritual world suffered repeated blows; those words, like bayonets, pierced the bodies of her compatriots, and when pulled out, they added a bloody scar to her heart.

She sat weakly at the desk by the library window, supporting her forehead, and gritted her teeth as she grabbed her notebook and began to write furiously.

The scratching sound of the pen nib cutting through the paper resonates in a different time and space with the strokes of Minnie Vautrin's pen sixty years ago, writing "God, please stop them."

In a close-up shot, Iris Chang finally couldn't hold back her sobs. She tilted her head back high to prevent her tears from wetting her notes and the borrowed diaries.

Her posture was almost defiant, her jaw was clenched, and the lines of her throat and neck trembled slightly as she suppressed a sob.

Tears welled up in her eyes, forming an arc, and finally slid down from the corner of her eye, but instead of dripping, they disappeared into her temples.

Like history seeping into the cracks of memory.

As actress Liu Yifei's tears finally fell, the camera rapidly pulled up, piercing through the library's dome to reveal a leaden-gray sky—

The audience members at the scene only realized it belatedly!
At the beginning of the film, young Iris Chang sees a sharp ray of light through the clouds in her grandfather's arms, like a quenched knife trying to tear open the wound in the sky.

It was about to break but hadn't.

Inside the Yale Divinity School library, the camera follows Iris Chang as she weeps with her head tilted back, presenting viewers with another powerful image:

The clouds rolled like the torrent of history, and suddenly a ray of sunlight pierced through the haze, just like the truth that she was about to reveal in her writing.

The camera on the drone kept moving upwards, penetrating the narrow window sill and entering the even more magnificent sky!

Even though this historical sky is still shrouded in dark clouds at this moment, only this faint ray of light shines down on the world.

At the age of twenty-seven, Iris Chang finally inherited her grandfather Zhang Naifan's will and broke through the historical barriers and cage that had imprisoned her for decades.

The camera pans back to her back as she hunches over her desk, gradually focusing on her monologue written in Chinese in her notebook—the penmanship is vigorous, the ink deep and rich.

You always say that there are some things you can only understand when you grow up.

Now I understand, and I feel the pain.

But I know that I am not reopening the wounds of our nation, but rather writing a belated epitaph for our departed compatriots.

The final date, the handwriting gradually became steady, sharp as a knife!

"May 11th."

The camera abruptly zooms out from a close-up of Iris Chang's diary entries, and when she reappears on the screen, the audience is completely confused.

Why did Iris Chang write "November 22nd" again?

As the camera fully captured the entire scene, a few gasps of surprise rippled through the audience!
The character that reappeared on the big screen was Minnie Vautrin, played by Moore.

It turns out that the second "November 22nd" was written by Minnie Vautrin!
The gap between history and reality is cleverly bridged by the director's camera and editing, leaving viewers in awe.

This transition directly connects the perspectives of "researchers" and "participants," making history no longer cold words, but vivid memories of life.

Iris Chang's writing style overlaps and leaps with Minnie Vautrin's experiences in time and space, precisely connecting them.

Many established directors in the audience shook their heads with wry smiles, their expressions increasingly revealing their helplessness.

Such artistic vision and ingenious narrative are something they can never hope to achieve in their lifetime.

Thus, the first interlude of historical scenes, derived from Iris Chang's writing of her works and her collection of historical materials, began to appear before the audience.

The real curtain of history has been raised.

Minnie Vautrin was writing in her diary at her desk:

"On Tuesday, November 22nd, the Japanese offensive became increasingly intense, and I feared that Nanjing was at risk of falling at any moment!"

"May God bless our students, staff, and all citizens of Nanjing."

Actress Moore portrayed Minnie Vautrin as a round-faced, slightly plump missionary who arrived in China in 1912 to serve as a professor at Ginling College.

She hesitated and sighed under the lamp. Gong Li, playing Cheng Ruifang, pushed open the door and entered: "Miss Hua! We need to think of a solution. I'm worried that after the Japanese devils enter the city, so many female students at Jinling Women's University..."

Before the fall of Nanjing in December, Ginling College (hereinafter referred to as Ginling College) established a wartime emergency committee composed of Minnie Vautrin, Cheng Ruifang, and Chen Feiran.

Minnie Vautrin, as the American representative, used her American citizenship to negotiate with the Japanese army and spearheaded the overall strategy for Ginningham Girls' University students to seek refuge.
As the Chinese dormitory supervisor, Cheng Ruifang was responsible for specific tasks, such as assigning dormitories, coordinating meals, and comforting students.

The "Miss Hua" that Cheng Ruifang mentioned refers to Minnie Vautrin, which is a respectful title everyone uses for her.

The French pronunciation of Minnie Vautrin's English surname "Vautrin" is similar to "Hua," and foreign missionaries often took Chinese surnames in order to integrate into Chinese society.

Thus, this female missionary who loved China and education and was a devout believer in God throughout her life was affectionately called "Miss Hua" by everyone.

To be given such beautiful words is the greatest recognition from the kind and honest Chinese people and students.

Cheng Ruifang was not highly educated and always followed Minnie Vautrin's lead. The latter pondered for a while before returning to her seat and picking up the phone.

“I’ll call Mr. Rabe. I think I need to talk to him about the ‘International Committee for the Nanjing Safety Zone’ beforehand.”

Minnie Vautrin was very insightful. As soon as the Japanese troops were stationed outside the city, she wrote to the U.S. Embassy in China, proposing the idea of ​​establishing a safety zone in Nanjing.

Concerned about the committee's lack of unity, she wanted to communicate with Nazi businessman John Rabe before the formal resolution that evening to ensure the smooth organization of the safety zone.

The camera pans horizontally and naturally shifts to Rabe's villa on Little Pink Bridge.

"The Sky of History" uses Iris Chang's writings as a thread, interweaving the true history of the Nanjing Massacre witnessed by Minnie Vautrin, John Rabe, and others.

At this point in the film, the three characters from the three storylines intersect for the first time.

The telephone on Rabe's desk rang incessantly, each ring echoing in the hearts of the viewers. Everyone stared intently at the close-up of the rotary telephone, silently straining their eyes—

Answer it quickly! Answer it quickly!
The call was never answered. In the deep of night, Tom Hanks' character, Rabe, was on his way to Jinling University, driven by his secretary, Han Xianglin.

"Sir, it's too dangerous. Soviet planes could attack the Japanese camp outside Nanjing at any time. You shouldn't have come out now."

Before the Battle of Nanjing, the Soviet Volunteer Air Force, which was sent to Nanjing to assist in the fight against the Japanese invaders outside the city, fought several fierce battles.

This was also the first battle in which Soviet air force aided China, and it was recorded in "The Diary of John Rabe".

Rabe listened to his secretary's words with some helplessness: "We don't have time. We must coordinate all matters concerning the safe zone before the city falls. The Japanese are cunning and ruthless; we cannot afford to be defeated one by one."

He immediately slapped his thigh hard, regretting his mistake in the chaos: "I forgot to contact Miss Hua beforehand, oh no!"

The city of Nanjing was eerie and terrifying under the cover of night. Car headlights pierced the thick darkness, and dust flew up wherever the headlights shone.

In the distance, sporadic gunshots and the roar of Soviet planes flying low could be heard. The car struggled to move forward on the uneven street, its wheels rolling over gravel and craters, causing the car to shake violently.

Rabe gripped the car door handle tightly, his brow furrowed.

When he pushed open the door to the conference hall of Jinling University, his eyes met those of Minnie Vautrin for a moment, and the two nodded to each other in tacit agreement.

The oval conference table was filled with Americans, Germans, British, and Danes.

The meeting hadn't even started, and everyone was already arguing fiercely.

When Hang Liwu, the president of Jinling University, saw Rabe arrive, he knew that Rabe was a member of the Nazi Party and that perhaps he could report the situation to the Führer and have the Allied forces, including the Japanese army, mediate.

He immediately slammed his hand on the table excitedly: "Everyone! Quiet! Mr. Rabe has arrived too!"

Hanks, playing Rabe, stands solemnly by the table, his hands resting on the edge.

The lights in the meeting room dared not be turned on; only the dim light of the kerosene lamps flickered, much like the precarious situation.

More than ten missionaries, professors, doctors and businessmen from the United States, Britain, Germany, Denmark and other countries sat around a long table, with a hand-drawn map of Nanjing city hanging on the wall.

The faint sound of gunfire could be heard outside the window, and the glass window trembled slightly from the impact.

Hanks, playing John Rabe, stood solemnly by the table, his hands resting on the edge. He first nodded to his ally, Minnie Vautrin.
"Miss Hua from Jinling Women's University learned by phone from Father Jacano in Shanghai that they had established a safety zone composed of international personnel during the war to negotiate with the Japanese army and protect themselves."

"I think this is something Nanjing can emulate. What do you all think?"

With this ally's businessman making the suggestion, everyone present naturally followed his lead, but a dispute arose over the delineation of the safe zone.

It's very simple. Apart from Hang Liwu, Rabe, and Minnie Vautrin, the representatives from the other countries just wanted to designate everyone's activity space as a safe zone, the smaller the better!
The smaller the area, the less likely it is to provoke the Japanese army, and the less likely refugees will flock in, making them safer.

This is also the issue that Minnie Vautrin wanted to discuss with Rabe in advance today.

Ms. Hua, who has a straightforward personality, spoke first, but did not say it explicitly: "The safe zone should not be too small. We need to leave ourselves space to build shelters."

The British manager of Jardine Matheson immediately retorted: "We should have basic trust in the Japanese army. Leaving room for ourselves is leaving room for the refugees. Who knows if there are Chinese soldiers mixed in? How will we deal with that?"

Bankers and gentlemen from countries such as Denmark and France responded enthusiastically.

"Correct!"

"Why should we care about their lives! Let the Japanese kill them if they want!"

"That's right!"

Rabe, Hang Liwu, and others looked grim. They hadn't expected that Minnie Vautrin's probing would be met with a fierce attack from the attendees, who were driven by a strong will to survive.

All the Chinese people watching the film felt deeply humiliated!

In Nanjing in 1937, Westerners refused to intervene in the atrocities committed by the Japanese army, citing "neutrality."

The re-enactment of this scene in the film today reminds viewers of the Western world's long-standing silence on the Nanjing Massacre, and this indifference itself is a disgrace.

Iris Chang, sitting in the audience, felt a stinging sensation in her eyes; her tears had been flowing continuously since the start of the film.

Film is a far more powerful medium for conveying ideas than words, especially a historical masterpiece like this.

As she looked at the faces of Western colonizers on the big screen, she thought of the cold reception she received when she was advocating for history in Western society, and the two situations were exactly the same.

When her gaze fell upon Lu Kuan, who was intently focused in the front row, she felt a sense of relief.

In the darkest nights of history, there has never been a shortage of those who light the way. I am not alone on this path.

Iris Chang's thoughts drifted to Beiping in August, and she wanted to see with her own eyes the magnificent grandeur of this great nation!

But at this moment, Rabe and Minnie Vautrin on the screen were far from being so at ease.

Seeing the crowd's uproar, Hanks, who plays Rabe, had no choice but to slam his fist on the table and yell, "Stop!"

"If you still want Ms. Hua and me to communicate, you'd better listen carefully to our suggestions within the safe zone!"

Germany was an ally of Japan, while the United States had not yet entered the war but was a powerful nation.

Therefore, the German John Rabe and the American Minnie Vautrin had the most confidence and authority to negotiate with the Japanese.

The scene fell silent; everyone was afraid that Rabe might back down.

The latter carefully drew an irregular circle on the map with a red pencil, which was the area that had been discussed with Vautrin many times.

"The safety zone must be expanded! Once the Japanese army enters the city, the existing area cannot even accommodate 60,000 people!"

He pointed northwest: "The area around Shanxi Road and Yihe Road has a high density of Western-style houses and sturdy walls; it should be included in the safety zone!"

Before the British and French representatives could speak, the slightly plump Minnie Vautrin stood up and declared righteously, "I agree!"

"Golden Girls' University has already taken in dozens of women and children, but there are still a large number of civilians sleeping on the streets around the campus! The safety zone must be extended south to Hanzhong Road!"

She stepped forward, ran her finger across the map, and touched the American missionary hospital (now Gulou Hospital): "There are ample medical resources here, which can save more lives!"

On Chinese soil, inside the prestigious Nanjing University, two friends of the Chinese people, Minnie Vautrin and John Rabe, argued vehemently with representatives from seven or eight other countries, engaging in a lengthy and heated debate.

They finally reached a compromise after threatening to withdraw from the "International Committee on Security Zones".

Moore, who plays Minnie Vautrin, closes her eyes slightly and takes a deep breath, as if thanking God for his guidance.

When he opened his eyes again, there was still lingering worry in them, but a barely perceptible twitch appeared at the corner of his mouth, a sign of relief after finally securing a glimmer of hope.

She met Rabe's gaze, and that one look resonated deeply with the Chinese audience members below the stage.

This single glance carries too much national tragedy and humiliation. The audience was moved by the two men's perseverance, but also felt suffocated by the cruelty of the historical situation.

The meeting concluded, and while the representatives from various countries continued their heated discussions, they ultimately dared not express any dissatisfaction.

Minnie Vautrin walked over to Rabe, and the two whispered something to each other. The camera gradually zoomed out, and the scene was left unexplained.

The flickering light of the kerosene lamp made the already dim flame appear even dimmer.

The camera, shooting from a low angle, cleverly casts the shadows of Rabe and Minnie Vautrin within the safe zone that had just been marked out with a red pencil.

Koslik, Wang Xiaoshuai, and others nodded involuntarily, signifying that these two international figures, who are friendly to the Chinese people, have protected this land with their kindness and perseverance.

Even though everyone who knows this history knows that the two of them were unable to realize their good intentions.

But at this moment, as the camera fades to black, this candle flickering in the twilight wind is enough to illuminate the deepest night.

Another minor climax ended, and Martin Scorsese in the audience let out a slight sigh.

By this point in the film, in addition to the continuous thread of the historical sky, the young director from the East has truly reached a state of perfection, from playing with window frames to manipulating light and shadow.

What alarmed him even more was that the performances of Liu Yifei, whom he was unfamiliar with, and Hanks and Moore, whom he was familiar with, in this film repeatedly surprised him.

Under Lu Kuan's guidance, they all seemed to have undergone a transformation in their acting skills.

If this is considered normal for a young actress like Liu Yifei, then it's an unexpected bonus for an established actor like Hanks.

From darkness to light, the azure sky over Nanjing was completely cloudless, appearing starkly naked in the lens.

With special animation effects, a map of Nanjing begins to be drawn in the blue sky, like dragons and snakes.

This is the director explaining to the audience the scope agreed upon at last night's safe zone meeting—

Centered on the central and western parts of Jinling, it extends north to Shanxi Road, south to Hanzhong Road, west to Xikang Road, and east to Zhongshan Road, covering a total area of ​​approximately 3.86 square kilometers.

Following this, 25 specific refugee camps were marked with the Red Cross:
Jinling University, Gulou Hospital, Jinling Women's University, Jinling High School, Wutaishan Primary School, Overseas Chinese Guesthouse...

As soon as the news of the establishment of the "Nanjing International Safety Zone Committee" spread, local residents flocked to the area.

The camera zooms in from a distance to the entrance of Jinling Women's University, where Minnie Vautrin, Cheng Ruifang, and others are frantically trying to maintain order.

However, King's College was a women's school, and the staff were all women. In those turbulent times, Minnie Vautrin could only allow women and children to enter for the time being.

A young girl was supporting her father, whose arm had been broken. She wanted to kneel down and beg for mercy but couldn't let go. Her dirty little face was filled with anxiety.
"Miss Hua, please let my father in! He'll die if no one takes care of him."

Minnie Vautrin was heartbroken, but gently advised, "Wutaishan Elementary School and Jiaotong Building both accept male refugees. Take your father there."

She turned around and called to a staff member: "Bring a cart for this child."

Two streams of tears flowed down the girl's face. She leaned her father against the wall and hurriedly kowtowed to Minnie Vautrin, saying, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Miss Hua!"

This scene deeply moved the audience from all over the world.

In chaotic times, people are worse off than dogs.

The screen flashed back to frames of the sorrow of people displaced by war, with refugee camps everywhere almost overflowing. The camera finally stopped at Nanjing Theological Seminary.

Secretary Han Xianglin stood behind Rabe, watching him roar at Tang Shengzhi, the commander of the Nanjing Garrison played by Andy Lau, her expression agitated.

"Commander Tang, you must get all the soldiers out of the safe zone! Otherwise, we'll be in danger of being bombed!"

Tang Shengzhi glanced at him indifferently, initially not wanting to pay him any attention, but considering what he had done for the Chinese people, he still offered a lukewarm explanation:

"This is a high point in Nanjing. Our army will set up anti-aircraft artillery positions here. Mr. Rabe, please return."

After saying that, he left with his hands behind his back, but his adjutant blocked Rabe and his companion, who were still arguing.

Tang Shengzhi was a Kuomintang commander with complex political views and stances. He made great contributions in the Northern Expedition in his early years, but his "pragmatic" stance became prominent after the Northern Expedition, which will not be commented on here.

However, during the Battle of Nanjing in 1937, when most generals advocated abandoning the city and fleeing, he vowed to live and die with Nanjing.

He personally supervised the battle, commanded while ill, and even drove a tank through artillery fire, earning him the nickname "the madman of Nanjing" from Western journalists. He also resolutely refused the Japanese invaders' attempts to persuade him to surrender.

Tang Shengzhi's military vehicle drove through the chaotic streets of Nanjing, its color gradually changing to black and white in the camera's view.

This is followed by a black-and-white historical composite video, similar to the real footage that is interspersed multiple times in "Forrest Gump," which is closely integrated with the film.

This is to improve the authenticity of historical biographical films and to avoid filming and presenting overly bloody scenes.

Starting on December 1st, after the Japanese invaders implemented "Continental Order No. 8", they advanced in three routes with 12 troops from 20 divisions of the Central China Area Army.

The encirclement of Nanjing was completed on the 5th;
Number 8 broke through the outer defense line;
On the 9th, a general offensive was launched against key positions such as Yuhuatai and Guanghuamen. Matsui Iwane airdropped a "Letter of Surrender," which was rejected by Tang Shengzhi.

On the 10th, the Japanese 9th Division broke into the Guanghua Gate tunnel. The defending troops burned the Japanese suicide squad with gasoline. Regiment Commander Xie Chengrui led his troops in hand-to-hand combat to repel the enemy.

On the 12th, Yuhuatai fell, and two brigade commanders, Zhu Chi and Gao Zhisong, died in battle. The Purple Mountain Observatory was captured, and the defending Training Corps suffered almost complete casualties!

At 4 p.m. on the 12th, due to the lack of reserved boats for crossing the river, about 10 defending troops were stranded on the riverbank and were massacred by the Japanese invaders.

Chinese viewers watched with bated breath as Nanjing fell step by step in historical footage on the first day of the Lunar New Year in Berlin.

Liu Yifei, Liu Xiaoli, Zhang Chunru, Zhang Yingying and other women were all in tears. At this moment, everyone was staring at the timestamp in the upper left corner with heart-wrenching fear.

How they wished they could turn back time, pause it, and make December 13th never come.

The images of the Nationalist soldiers being massacred gradually fade out, and the camera suddenly zooms in, focusing on a Nationalist soldier with a dirty face.

He looked back at the blood-red city of Nanjing, the firelight flickering in his eyes, but unable to illuminate the despair within them.

There were no tears, only a dull, numb pain, as if even the agony had been dried up by the smoke of gunpowder.

The setting sun, shrouded in blood mist, sliced ​​across his profile, dividing his gaunt face into two halves of light and shadow—the shadow representing death, and the light representing an undying faith.

One inch of mountains and rivers, one inch of blood, one hundred thousand young men and one hundred thousand troops.

At dusk on the 13th, when the first Japanese flag was planted on the city wall, the movie screen suddenly switched to color, but the color saturation was extremely high.

Under this historical sky, the crimson and iron-blue hues twisted and contorted, as if the gates of hell had been opened.

At this point, Nanjing had fallen!
The most painful scar in the history of the Chinese nation is about to be torn open in a bloody manner!

Alas! How painful!

The distorted blood on the screen stung the eyes of all the Chinese viewers, and the sudden cry of a Chinese female student was like a sharp knife, instantly shattering the silence of the movie theater.

She gripped the armrests of the seat tightly, her nails digging deep into her palms, tears streaming down her pale face.

Those were not tears of sorrow, but the pain of being burned by history.

Tens of thousands of soldiers and civilians were stranded at the docks along the Yangtze River.

The camera swoops down from a great height, but suddenly stops just before reaching the ground, freezing the image in a faded old photograph.

The old photographs were held in Iris Chang's hands, and the viewers felt a sense of relief, as if this allowed them to escape that horrific history and never see it again.

This was also a transition deliberately arranged by director Lu Kuan.

The plot of the third act was so oppressive and despairing that it made the audience, who were deeply immersed in the story, feel like they were dying.

What he wanted to convey through "The Sky of History" was far from despair, thus leaving viewers with a psychological buffer before the Holocaust.

The young director wanted to bring a ray of light into their confused consciousness, a ray of light that had previously pierced through the dark clouds—

Iris Chang

"Chunru? Chunru?"

Zhang Chunru, lost in thought, is awakened by Shao Ziping, and Liu Yifei, the actress playing her, perfectly captures a bewildered look.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Shao, I was daydreaming."

"You're too tired, you need to rest."

Shao Ziping looked at the 27-year-old Chinese girl with heartache, finding it hard to believe that such a strong will and strength could be contained within her frail body.

Zhang Chunru, whose face was a little pale, waved her hand at him: "It's okay, I can handle it."

Keen-eyed audience members could see that Iris Chang had cut much out of her costume before and after this historical interlude.

It's conceivable that the Chinese actress also gradually lost weight during filming.

Shao Ziping nodded helplessly, watching Zhang Chunru get into the car and leave.

Aerial footage from drones appeared on the big screen.

New York in 1995 unfolds on the screen, with the glass curtain walls of skyscrapers reflecting blinding light.

Yellow taxis crisscross Broadway like worker ants, while the sounds of saxophones played by street performers mingle with the urgent ringing of telephones on Wall Street.

Every inch of air in this city pulsates with the lifeblood of money and vitality.

The camera pans across Central Park, where elite runners in the latest Nike shoes glide across the lawn, creating a sharp and cruel contrast with the ruins of Nanjing just minutes earlier.

Zhang Chunru came to see Susan, the editor of her biography of Qian Xuesen, who was unaware that the female writer she knew had already begun writing "The Nanjing Massacre".

Susan exclaimed excitedly, "Iris McDurger, the Pulitzer Prize winner and author of 'Heaven and Earth,' has agreed to write the foreword to 'Qian Xuesen's Biography'!"

Unfortunately, she didn't see a trace of joy on the latter's face.

Iris Chang forced a smile. Although she looked somewhat haggard, her eyes were still terrifyingly bright: "Susan, thank you."

"I've come today to discuss something with you."

"Ok?"

“I want to self-publish a book, which is important to my hometown and my fellow countrymen.”

Susan exclaimed in surprise, "China? Tell me about the subject matter of your new book first."

Iris Chang took a sip of water and calmly recounted the results of her research over the past six months.

Susan was shocked. Without any malice, she blurted out, "No way? The Japanese are so polite, how could they do such a thing?"

Hey!
An abrupt swear word was uttered from the audience at the Berlin Film Palace, igniting a surge of hatred among the viewers.

They didn't hate deceived Westerners like Susan, but rather the enemies who invaded our nation and then transformed themselves into international gentlemen after World War II.

Iris Chang had anticipated her reaction. She patiently rummaged through her bag, took out her notes and photos, and handed them over. She watched as her close friend, the editor-in-chief of the publishing house, gradually lost all color in her face.

"Absolutely disgusting! Terrible!"

Why did we never know such a thing existed?

Like a thunderclap from a clear sky, a simple conversation suddenly took an unexpected turn!

The established directors on set were astonished to see Susan and Iris Chang, who were positioned in the center of the frame, suddenly pulled horizontally by the camera, with Cate Blanchett, who played Susan, facing the camera directly!
why?
Why let a supporting character who appears for less than a minute break the "fourth wall"?

Everyone stared at the movie screen with surprise and disbelief. Liu Yifei, who played Zhang Chunru, had her back to everyone, but her gaze was met with a look of astonishment from Cate Blanchett.

On the bookshelf behind them were classic works about the catastrophe of World War II, such as "The Nuremberg Trials" and "Schindler's List"!
Wang Xiaoshuai felt a chill run down his spine at the sight! He almost couldn't help but want to stand up!
This is director Lu Kuan using Cate Blanchett, a supporting character, to deliver a scathing accusation and satire!

Books such as "The Nuremberg Trials" and "Schindler's List" are "epic of justice" that have been repeatedly told in the West.

Why do you hypocritical Westerners selectively forget the national wounds of the Chinese people when you are lamenting the pain of your own nation, because of the benefits brought by the rise of Japan?
In Wang Xiaoshuai's eyes, this young director, still as sharp as he was during the debate at the Beijing Film Academy, uses this exquisite visual language to starkly expose the Western world's long-standing monopoly on historical discourse:

They can recount the suffering of Auschwitz repeatedly, yet turn a blind eye to the 300,000 innocent souls in Nanjing;
They meticulously documented the crimes of the Nazis, but downplayed the atrocities committed by the Japanese invaders.

The classic WWII narratives, such as "The Nuremberg Trials," captured on camera are no longer badges of honor, but rather proof of silent collusion.

The most incisive aspect of this design is that it doesn't offer direct, naked criticism, but rather uses a meaningful shot to prompt the audience to reflect—

Why are the more than 1,000 people saved by Schindler eternally remembered, while the 100,000 people protected by Riabé and Minnie Vautrin in the Nanjing Safety Zone have almost disappeared in Western historical narratives?

Lu Kuan used cinematic language to deconstruct and satirize the hegemony of Western historical discourse!

The director's personal agenda now seems to have become a weapon, deeply ingrained in the minds of Western filmmakers.

Regardless of whether they will reflect on their actions, this is the first resounding slap in the face that Boss Lu has delivered to the arrogance and prejudice of the Western world after he has acquired enormous resources and wealth!

Since Iris Chang, the bloody and tearful history of this great Eastern nation will no longer be allowed to be wantonly smeared and trampled upon!

Hypocritical human rights defenders, please leap off your ugly moral high walls and turn to dust!

The Chinese directors and actors on set, along with an increasing number of professional film journalists, belatedly realized the significance of this "Easter egg."

They sketched this obvious movie highlight in their sketchbooks.

Liu Yifei's beautiful eyes darted around, and she caught a glimpse of her lover's profile from the first row.

At that moment, her whole world seemed to freeze in that small space, overflowing with heartfelt admiration.

Iris Chang left New York.

Before leaving, Susan, who was hesitant, gave her a reply that was not really an answer: first, write her a topic selection plan.

Publishers will obviously be extremely cautious about such sensitive topics.

When Iris Chang left the publishing house and stood at the most bustling intersection in New York, all she could see was the bloody carnage of Nanjing in 1937.

She sighed and prepared to call her husband, but received a call from Shao Ziping first.

"Hello? Dr. Shao?"

“Israel! I just got in touch with an independent filmmaker named Cui Minghui. A few years ago, she made a documentary called ‘By the Emperor’s Order’, which denounced the atrocities committed by the Japanese invaders. She also went to China to interview survivors. I think it might be of some help to you.”

Iris Chang asked excitedly, "Where is she?"

"I'll give you her address and phone number. She lives in Queenstown, New York..."

Like a drowning person just pulled ashore, Iris Chang abandoned the idea of ​​going home and immediately took a taxi straight to the residence of Chinese-American producer Ming-Hui Choi.

Cui Minghui and her friend Tang Meiru are well-known independent filmmakers. In 1987, they produced the documentary "Who Killed Vincent Chin," which explored the impact of wars in East Asia on modern society and was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature.

However, the documentary exposing the crimes of the Japanese invaders faced repeated setbacks in its screening, and both men even received death threats from right-wing groups.

In a villa in Queenstown, New York, Iris Chang and Ming-hui Cui sat facing each other, drinking tea. Upon hearing the purpose of her visit, the latter's expression turned solemn.

“I visited Nanjing in July two years ago, and a history professor from Nanjing University gave me a list of six surviving interviewees.”

“I contacted them one by one, but most of them were unwilling to be interviewed, and they were also struggling financially.”

Cui Minghui suddenly became extremely angry: "Do you know that many of the Japanese war criminals have escaped trial? They still live in spacious and bright houses and enjoy huge subsidies from the government and the military."

"How ironic that our fellow citizens and victims are left destitute and die in despair because of their crimes!"

Zhang Chunru was heartbroken and immediately said in a deep voice, "Sister Minghui, please give me that professor's contact information."

She paused, as if her thoughts had drifted back to the hometown her grandfather had told her about when she was a child.

"I want to go back to China."

With the background blurred and the camera slowly zooming in, Iris Chang stands alone on the mottled platform of Jinling Railway Station, amidst the cicadas' chirping in the height of summer.

On the platform, a cacophony of dialects surged in like a tide, yet to her ears, it transformed into the beautiful sounds of her hometown.

The old women selling Yuhua stones with bamboo baskets, the migrant workers carrying woven bags, and the students chasing and playing in school uniforms—each of them exuded vibrant life.

On the blue brick wall at the exit, the two large characters "Jinling" in Wei stele style were stained dark by rainwater.

She suddenly stopped, the wheels of her suitcase stuck on the cobblestones, just like her soul stuck between history and reality.

At that moment, the Nanjing she saw intertwined with the Nanjing of 1937, causing Iris Chang to feel a lump in her throat and a sense of loss.

Iris Chang took a taxi to the Xiyuan Hotel at Jinling University, where several historians, including Yang Xiaming, Sun Zhaiwei, and Duan Yueping, whom she had contacted in advance, were waiting for her in the hotel's conference room.

"Young lady, who are you looking for?"

Teacher Wang Weixing looked at the girl in front of him with surprise. Judging from her demeanor, she was not from an ordinary family.

Iris Chang smiled generously and gently, as if standing on this land could give her more energy: "I am Iris Chang, and I am looking for Professor Duan Yueping."

Her Mandarin was not very fluent, but it still surprised the several professors from Nanjing University in the conference room, who stood up.

"Are you Iris Chang? The American writer Iris Chang?"

They thought that a writer who writes about such historical subjects should be a solemn middle-aged man, so why is it such a bright and generous young girl?

She could almost be mistaken for a female student from Jinling University.

After exchanging pleasantries, Yang Xiaming, a professor in the History Department of Jinling University, asked in a deep voice, "Young lady, why do you want to write this book?"

Iris Chang had considered many reasons on her way here, but now, facing seven or eight pairs of questioning eyes, she only gave a firm look and exhaled softly:
"I am a descendant of Chinese people, and this is my responsibility."

The professors looked at each other, none of them believing there was any need to doubt it further.

It's not that they're being overly cautious; Professor Yang Xiaming's research in recent years alone has already attracted the attention of right-wing forces in Japan.

Iris Chang was extremely efficient; she immediately pulled out a photocopy of "The Minds of Minnie Vautrin" that she had brought from the Yale University Theological Library, which was the first time that the Chinese academic community had learned of its existence.

Furthermore, the more than 1000 pages of trial materials related to the Far East Military Tribunal that she copied from the National Library of America have long been lost in China.

Iris Chang, a journalism graduate and a long-time writer, was adept at organizing, collecting, and refining information.

She shared materials with several professors and also made her own requests:

Interviewing survivors of the Nanjing Massacre, visiting the sites of the massacre in person, and comparing the findings with photographic materials.

In addition, they collected and translated materials held by scholars in mainland China and brought them back to North America.

Several professors took on different tasks to assist, with Yang Xiaming serving as translator. He was also a scholar who later translated Iris Chang's works.
Wang Weixing and others collected information for Zhang Chunru to review;
Duan Yueping, then deputy curator of the Memorial Hall for the Victims, maintained contact with some survivors for many years. She was responsible for doing ideological work and inviting them to give interviews.

Iris Chang's busy work in Nanjing began, and her footprints covered every inch of Nanjing's land that had been soaked in blood and tears.

In the dimly lit archives of the memorial hall for the victims, she ran her fingertips over the yellowed pages of the survivors' register, transcribing and translating each name, blurred by time, into English.

In front of the remaining Republican-era buildings along the Qinhuai River, she held up old black-and-white photographs and compared them to the bullet-riddled blue brick walls. The sound of the shutter overlapped with the gunshots from sixty years ago.
As the survivor recounted her story with trembling hands, the pen she was writing down suddenly stopped, and ink dripped onto the date "December 16, 1937," spreading into blood-red ripples in the river.

In the dusty piles of historical materials at the Jinling Library, she translated the research of mainland scholars all night long. The desk lamp cast her silhouette on the wall, making her look like a warrior wielding a pen as a sword.

The camera work quickly establishes Iris Chang's itinerary and whereabouts, ultimately focusing on her stay at the Xiyuan Hotel of Jinling University.

A map identical to the one used by Rabe and Minnie Vautrin to determine the boundaries of the Nanjing Safety Zone was laid out on the table.

With trembling lips, Iris Chang meticulously marked each number with a red pen—

"Jiangdong Gate, 10,000 people."

"Swallow Cliff, 50,000 people."

"In Caoxie Gorge, 57,000 people perished."

"Three thousand men in the coal mine, nine thousand in the torpedo battalion, and at Zhongshan Wharf—"

"Ten thousand people."

The camera slowly zooms in, and Iris Chang's trembling fingers grip the red pen tightly, the pen tip leaving deep marks on the paper, as if she wanted to brand these numbers into the flesh and blood of history.

Her tears fell onto the words "Ten Thousand People at Jiangdong Gate," the ink staining into the shape of a pool of blood, and a suppressed sob escaped her throat.

The screen suddenly cuts to black-and-white historical footage:
The intertwined skeletons in the Jiangdongmen mass grave, the bloated corpses on the river surface at Yanziji, and the dense bullet holes on the cliff face of Caoxiexia.

As the words "Ten Thousand People at Zhongshan Wharf" were written, the scene abruptly cut back to a close-up of Iris Chang, her bloodshot eyes staring directly at the camera, her pupils reflecting the chilly Yangtze River of winter 1937.

As the film transitions, the camera suddenly enters the world reflected in her pupils.

Above the Yangtze River at dusk, in the sky of history, hangs a blood-red setting sun.

As the blood-red sun gradually faded, the screen suddenly displayed the date December 14th. Everyone's hearts sank, knowing that the bloodiest scene was about to unfold.
-
With the roar of a car engine, Han Xianglin drove Rabe to the Japanese military base.

The front of the vehicle was adorned with a flag bearing the words "Nanjing International Safety Zone." Although this was not recognized by the Japanese army, they still had to consider his German identity.

The car passed through Hanzhong Gate, went through inspection, and entered the camp, where Major General Harada received him.

Rabe sternly explained the scope and boundaries of the safety zone, and asked his men who entered the city yesterday to strictly adhere to military discipline and not to violate it.

The Japanese soldier dismissed the matter and showed Rabe the military's operational map. To Rabe's surprise, the map did not show any so-called safe zone.

All his previous efforts had been in vain, and he had not received any promises from the invaders.

After some arguing, Japanese Major General Harada impatiently agreed: "We will not go as long as there are no armed soldiers in your area."

His eyes were like those of a hawk: "If you find anyone who hasn't disarmed, you can tell them to disarm themselves and come back to the safe zone with you. We won't pursue the matter."

Rabe, who had not yet witnessed the enemy's cruelty and cunning, was overjoyed: "Good! I'll go and persuade them right away!"

After the fall of Nanjing, many soldiers who fought to the death hid in the city, causing considerable trouble for the Japanese. This was a very vicious plan.

Rabe met several wounded soldiers at the entrance to the Hebei Road security zone and got out of the car to persuade them.

The Nationalist soldiers knew the identity of the safety zone commander, so they did not make things difficult for him, nor did they surrender their weapons; they quickly took cover and hid.

There were many soldiers hiding near the safe zone, but there were still some who trusted Rabe. After much persuasion, they reluctantly discarded their weapons and entered the safe zone as civilians.

Han Xianglin drove through the refugee camps in various safe zones, and Rabe insisted on inspecting each one.

The camera shows a brief "alleyway movie" scene. On the street within sight, Japanese soldiers in squads of 10 men are systematically breaking down doors and windows and leaving fully loaded.

They transported boxes of supplies back and forth using handcarts and trolleys.

Wang Xiaoshuai, sitting in the audience, frowned as he observed. He keenly noticed that the Japanese team under the wide guide tube worked together seamlessly, forming a completely systematic robbery organization.

Why did he film it this way?
Wouldn't it be more emotionally charged and more likely to evoke hatred in viewers to depict hysterical Japanese soldiers?
Zhang Chunru, sitting in the audience, understood that this was Lu Kuan's special intention.

In the midst of the struggle against the right-wing propaganda forces of Japan last July, Western public opinion provided a perfect excuse for their perceived superiority over the Japanese people.

We acknowledge that the massacre was real, but it was nothing more than the rampage of mentally deranged soldiers in a state of war; they were not normal people.

To the average Japanese person, it's Dragon Ball, "craftsmanship," sushi, Bushido, and Sony...

If a person commits a crime due to mental illness, it can probably be forgiven, right?

Even the laws of the world do not punish madmen for murder; at most, they impose compulsory medical treatment.

In order to expose these lies, director Lu Kuan and Iris Chang worked together to find the real robbery scenes in the diaries of the Japanese director Yasujiro Ozu and "The Diary of Shiro Azuma".

He wanted to tell the whole world clearly!

These Japanese devils weren't stupid or crazy; they were simply evil to the extreme. They were nothing short of organized beasts!

Instead of the humane soldier in your Lu Chuan script who still knows how to reflect on himself.

The film's plot unfolds in an orderly fashion on the big screen, allowing Western viewers to witness a glimpse of the true nature of the Yamato people, a side of which they had never seen before, through Rabe's perspective.

Rabe made his way back to the International Committee headquarters after a tour of the area, but what he saw at the door made his eyes widen in horror!
Japanese soldiers opened fire and killed people, then dragged a truckload of refugees away, running over anyone who blocked their way.

"Stop them!"

Han Xianglin could barely grip the steering wheel while driving; how could he stop it?
Rabe jumped out of the truck, holding his Nazi Party badge in his hand, and stood in front of the military truck with righteous indignation: "Your Major General Harada promised the committee that he would not make things difficult for disarmed soldiers! What's going on here?"

The Japanese soldier, still somewhat aware of the danger, dared not run over Rabe directly. He replied with a sinister grin, "This is the major general's order. Thank you for your persuasion, Mr. Rabe!"

Rabe, standing in front of the car, turned pale instantly, his legs went weak, and he almost collapsed to the ground. Han Xianglin quickly rushed over to support him.

Several Nationalist soldiers on the vehicle, who had been personally persuaded by Rabe, were confused and began to hurl insults at Rabe standing beside the vehicle.
"You German bastard! You'll die a horrible death!"

"How could I have believed you? We might as well have fought the Japanese!"

Rabe was spat on in the thigh but didn’t bother to wipe it off. He looked flustered and opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t know what to say in his defense.

In the center of the shot, a bound soldier with a Sichuan accent is still cursing on a truck. An impatient Japanese soldier stabs him through the mouth with a knife!

The sudden gore was magnified in close-up on the big screen, causing several female celebrities in the front row to scream!
Rabe leaned against his secretary Han Xianglin, utterly despondent, and murmured, on the verge of tears, "It's my fault...it's my fault..."

The sound of Chinese profanities echoed through the movie theater.

From the very first scene with the blood moon, it was destined to be a plot that would leave viewers breathless.

But Lu Kuan didn't choose to film the Japanese soldiers' cruelty first; instead, he filmed their cunning.

Whether it was Major General Harada deceiving Rabe or the Japanese soldiers' organized and efficient looting, both stories magnified the ugly face of this nation, which is adept at disguise and concealment, to audiences all over the world.

Even though Boss Lu verbally proclaims peace and the absence of hatred, he'll still add his own agenda wherever possible.

This was originally an oral history from "The Diary of John Rabe" and "The Diary of Shiro Higashi". He can provide evidence to those who question it at any time. What's wrong with that?

That night, the scene shifts to Rabe's villa at No. 1 Little Pink Bridge, where he is recording the day's events on a typewriter as a diary, which later became known as "The Diary of John Rabe":
"No shop outside the safe zone was spared, and murder, rape, and robbery are even beginning to spread into the safe zone."

"I am deeply worried about the future of the refugee camps in the safety zone. Everyone seems to have overestimated the credibility of the Japanese army; they are inhuman beasts..."

Rabe was still typing when a Japanese soldier suddenly shouted "Baka!" in the courtyard. Rabe grabbed his party badge and pistol and went downstairs to see what was going on.

"What are you doing! This is the home of the chairman of the Nanjing International Safety Zone Committee. I am a member of the Nazi Party and an ally of yours!"

The ordinary Japanese soldiers were startled by his imposing manner, and after hearing Han Xianglin's translation, they were so frightened that they withdrew from the courtyard and did not pursue the refugees who had broken into Rabe's house.

Armed with the Nazi Party emblem and a pistol, and with cold sweat beading on his forehead, Rabe managed to rescue several panicked civilians.

This was also a plot arrangement intentionally made by Lu Kuan to give viewers room for emotional adjustment and to ease their mood a little. Otherwise, they would be heartbroken before they even finished watching this scene.

After settling the refugees, Rabe drove overnight to the International Committee.

Today is only the second day since the Japanese army entered the city, but everyone already has an extremely bad feeling.

Committee Chairman Rabe organized reports from various refugee camps on the suffering they had endured, and the reports were all too painful to hear; none had escaped unscathed.

"The Jinling University refugee camp was stormed by the Japanese army under the pretext of searching for enemy troops. More than 30 female students were abducted and raped on the spot. Among them, Li Meilan, a female student from the Chemistry Department, resisted and was stabbed 37 times..."

“More than 300 male refugees were driven to the Beiyuan basketball court, shot with machine guns, and then burned with gasoline.”

With a loud "bang!", someone smashed a cup in the International Committee meeting room. The camera didn't show who it was, nor did it need to.

The reporting is still ongoing:

"At the Ministry of Justice refugee camp on Changjiang Road, 300 refugees were escorted out of the camp under the pretext of being reprimanded, and are suspected of being taken to Hanzhong Gate and shot..."

"At the Wutaishan Elementary School refugee camp, the Japanese army falsely claimed to be issuing 'good citizen certificates,' gathered more than 400 men on the playground, tore them apart with military dogs for amusement, and then beheaded them with samurai swords..."

The skeletons at Jiangdong Gate, the charred corpses at the coal port, and the still-wet blood pools on the Wutaishan playground flashed by frame by frame, accompanied by the deep voices of the refugee camp leaders.

The air in the conference room seemed to freeze, with only the pen slipping from trembling fingers and making a crisp echo on the teak floor.

Rabe's pipe ash fell onto the Geneva Convention documents, burning through the "wartime civilian protection" clause.

Just the day after the fall of Nanjing, all the Westerners present who still had high hopes for the Security Committee realized that the Japanese army was beyond reason.

Even if some of them don't care about the lives of Chinese people, it is still appalling that living people are humiliated and killed in such a cruel and brutal way.

If Rabe's experiences during the day depict the cunning and organized war crimes of the Japanese invaders, then...

These bizarre and nauseating words and shocking figures clearly served as a "preview" for the audience.

The Japanese troops in Nanjing in 1937 were all depraved beasts.

Now is the time to reveal to everyone this history that has been so vehemently vilified and denied by the right wing.

(End of this chapter)