My cousin asked me to go to Wuha, and Hanikezi stuck to me.

The next morning, Xiao Fang sent a screenshot of the WeChat Moments post to the work group.

There was no accompanying text, just a picture.

Chen Yi glanced at it but didn't reply.

He placed his phone face down on the table and continued to check the storyboard drafts sent by director Zhou Yuan.

Preparations for the fourth feature film began in full swing at the end of April.

Casting, location scouting, and technical testing—each step proceeded systematically.

The filming location was decided to be an old town near Jingdezhen in Jiangxi Province.

This area is slated for demolition, most residents have already moved away, and most of the old shops along the street are locked.

The signs are still there, some are crooked, some are faded, swaying in the wind.

The film crew moved in in mid-June.

The day the machine was turned on was June 16th, a Sunday.

The weather forecast said it would be cloudy turning sunny, but when I opened the door in the early morning, the sky was overcast and gray.

The streets in the old town are narrow, and the houses on both sides cut the sky into a thin slit.

Light leaked through the gaps and shone on the bluestone pavement, creating a clear distinction between light and shadow.

Chen Yi arrived at the film set at six o'clock.

He was wearing a navy blue work jacket, his trousers tucked into his boots, and a walkie-talkie hanging around his neck.

He didn't bring a folded script with him, only a pen and a palm-sized notebook.

Director of Photography Lao Zhao arrived ten minutes earlier than him and was adjusting the lighting positions on the main street with the lighting crew.

"Director Chen, our first scene today is in the carpenter's workshop. I'd like to use natural light as the main lighting, and add a soft spotlight by the window. What do you think?"

Chen Yi walked to the entrance of the workshop and stood there for a moment.

The workshop is a genuine old shop; the film crew only made minimal modifications.

The lime plaster on the wall has peeled off, revealing the red bricks underneath.

The worktable was a secondhand item collected locally, and the planing marks and knife marks on the surface are all genuine.

The knife mark on the threshold was carved by the props team according to the script description. It was carved out piece by piece with a real wood chisel, and the texture is no different from that of an old object.

Chen Yi squatted down and touched the knife marks on the threshold.

My fingertip lingered on the wood grain for two seconds.

He stood up and turned to look at Old Zhao.

"Focus on natural light; don't add lights near the windows."

"If we don't supplement it, the light level won't be enough."

"That's enough. This scene is about an old man sitting alone in a workshop, and the world around him is getting dark. There shouldn't be enough light."

Old Zhao pushed up his hat brim and pondered for two seconds.

"Understood. I'll lower the curtain by half on the side of the window to filter out the natural light, making the picture darker but not black."

"OK."

At 8:30 a.m., the whole team was in place.

The actor is a veteran actor whom Chen Yi invited from the drama troupe. He is 67 years old and has been acting in dramas for 40 years. He doesn't have many works on the screen, but every one of them is solid.

The old man's surname is Zheng, and people in the industry call him Teacher Zheng.

When Teacher Zheng arrived at the film set, he was wearing old clothes, a faded blue cloth shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows.

He didn't go into the dressing room, but walked directly to the entrance of the workshop and stood there, looking around at the furnishings inside.

"The height of this workbench is correct."

He reached out and pressed on the countertop.

"The workbench for carpentry should be this height; if it's too high, you can't bend over, and if it's too low, it will hurt your spine."

Chen Yi walked over.

"Teacher Zheng, why don't you try that plane?"

Teacher Zheng picked up an old plane from the workbench and pushed it twice on the scrap wood.

The wood shavings rolled up and fell to the ground, thin and fragrant with the scent of wood.

"It feels pretty good."

Teacher Zheng put down the plane and patted the sawdust off his hands.

"This plane is the real deal."

"Borrowed from that old master craftsman in Baoding."

Teacher Zheng looked up at him, her eyes showing more approval.

"Did you go to Baoding to find a carpenter?"

"I went there last fall and squatted there all day."

Teacher Zheng didn't reply, but stepped into the workshop and sat down on the old wooden chair in front of the workbench.

His back was slightly hunched, his hands were on his knees, and his gaze was fixed on the knife mark on the threshold.

I calmed down and stood firmly in place.

Chen Yi retreated behind the monitor.

"Power on."

This was the first thing he said today.

Article 1.

Teacher Zheng sat in the workshop, while the distant roar of demolition machinery could be heard through the window.

Sunlight streamed in through the half-open window, falling on the back of his wrinkled hands.

He made no move.

I sat quietly for forty seconds.

He slowly raised his right hand and reached towards the threshold.

The moment my fingertips touched the knife mark, my breathing changed.

It's not an act; it's a calmness that comes from within.

My fingers slowly slid along the lines of the knife marks.

One inch, two inches.

The fingertip rests in the deepest groove.

His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated, ultimately making no sound.

He withdrew his fingers from the threshold and placed them back on his knees.

Chen Yi stared at the monitor screen, motionless.

The script supervisor next to him was timing the stopwatch and waiting for instructions.

Five seconds.

ten seconds.

Fifteen seconds.

Chen Yi did not call a halt.

Old Zhao peeked out from behind the camera, giving him an inquiring look.

Chen Yi shook his head slightly.

carry on.

Article .

The same scene, but Teacher Zheng sat from a different angle.

This time, his gaze fell on the pile of wood shavings on the worktable.

Pick up a thin piece of wood shavings between your fingers, rub them together a couple of times, and then put them down.

Article 3.

Article 4.

Article 5.

Chen Yi didn't say anything to interfere in any of them.

There was no "slow down a bit here," no "shift your gaze to the left," no "tame your emotions a bit more."

He just stared at the monitor, sometimes nodding, sometimes shaking his head.

After each take, Teacher Zheng would look up at the monitor.

Their eyes met from a distance of more than ten meters, and they exchanged a very short coded signal.

Nod, and let's try a different approach next time.

Shake your head, let's start over.

There wasn't a single wasted word throughout the entire process.

By the ninth point, Teacher Zheng had returned to her original seat.

This time he didn't touch the knife marks on the threshold.

He just sat there quietly.

Place your hands on your knees.

My gaze passed through the half-open window and landed on the old street outside that was about to be demolished.

The light and shadow slowly shifted across his face, moving from his left cheek to his right, revealing the weight of time.

Chen Yi stared at the screen for a full half minute.

Then he spoke.

"Passed."

These are the third and fourth words he said today.

The entire event wrapped up at 6 p.m.

Old Zhao carried the camera onto the equipment truck, while producer Old Zhou helped by handing over the boxes.

The two chatted as they worked.

"How long did it take to film this scene today?"

"From the first to the ninth, including the camera position adjustment, it took a full four hours."

"Four hours of grinding through a scene with no lines—anywhere else, people would be jumping up and down from the pressure."

Old Zhao carefully placed the camera into the shockproof box and fastened the latches.

"Have you counted how many words he actually said on set today?"

Old Zhou recalled for a moment.

"They started by shouting 'Start the machine,' didn't say a word in the middle, and finished by shouting 'That's a wrap.'"

Just four words.

Old Zhao gestured with four fingers.

"Nine clips, four hours, four words."

Old Zhou smacked his lips.

"This is the first time I've ever seen a film shot like this."

Old Zhao fastened the shockproof box lid tightly and stood up straight.

Dusk crept in from the end of the old street, casting a dark shadow over the old signs on both sides.

In the distance, tower cranes in the demolition area stood silently and steadily in the dim light.

"There were nine messages today, all consisting of four words. The first one was 'Power on,' the last one was 'Passed,' and the rest relied entirely on tacit understanding."