Wu Zelin has only been called Su Wangxi twice in his life. For the first twenty-one years, he was called "Sister", and it was natural. She would fend off the dog for him, share the watermelon, and hold hands with him throughout his childhood. For the next sixty years, he was called "Wang tide", cautiously and confidently - that was all the confidence he needed to capture the moment when she looked back at her at the beach, when he kissed her forehead under the moonlight in the tent, and when he said "We're here" and "Waiting for you" across the distance from Tokyo to Beijing. From the upstairs and downstairs of the railway family home, to the eaves of a couple living together in Beijing; from a photo taken on the beach being misunderstood as a couple, to seriously standing in front of the parents of the two families and saying "for the purpose of getting married." Just one year younger. It took him a lifetime to equal more. She was the film he had been photographing all his life. Never exposed, never faded.
