Autumn Rain Brings Clear Joy

In early autumn at the Jixiang Theater, Yu Qinghuan, graceful onstage with her flowing water sleeves, catches Jiang Mingchen's eye in a box seat. He saves her on Xiafei Road; later, they spend a night together at the Carlton Ballroom. Amid sandalwood incense and the music of records, their souls slowly draw close. Yet the Jiang family ancestral hall has no place for an actor, and war is sweeping in without mercy. As shells fall, the morphine syringes on the dressing table tremble alongside the air-raid sirens.

Amid family opposition and the tides of the times, Yu Qinghuan, made up as the concubine Yu in Farewell My Concubine, meets with tragedy, blood staining the begonia blossoms at her temples. In the drizzling autumn rain of 1946, Jiang Mingchen picks up half of a jade hair ornament from the ruins. On the merit stele at Fahua Temple, the three newly carved characters of “Yu Qinghuan” are gradually dusted with incense ash. In the jazz music of the Paramount Ballroom, the melodies of Mei Lanfang and Beethoven mingle in the dust, as if writing an epilogue to a love too deep and fate too brief. It is both the joys and sorrows of individual lives and a true portrait of countless insignificant souls in a great era.