在紀念中國人民抗日戰爭暨世界反法西斯戰爭勝利80週年之際，電影《南京照相館》於2025年7月25日正式上映，迅速引發觀眾熱烈關注與情感共鳴。這部電影並非虛構故事，而是根據一段震撼人心的真實歷史事件改編——一位年僅15歲的南京少年，冒著生命危險藏匿日軍暴行照片，最終這本見證屠殺罪行的相冊成為審判日本戰犯的關鍵鐵證，讓無數歷史塵封的真相再度重現於世人眼前。

故事起源於1938年，也就是南京大屠殺發生後的第二年。在南京估衣廊附近，有一家名為「華東照相館」的攝影館。年僅15歲的羅瑾，是這家照相館的學徒。當時，日軍佔領南京後，部分軍官會將自己拍攝的照片拿到本地的照相館沖洗，這些照片往往包含他們對中國百姓施暴、屠殺、侮辱的血腥場景。日軍之所以拍攝這些照片，據中國第二歷史檔案館原館長馬振犢所說，是出於一種「娛樂」與「發洩」的心態，完全缺乏對生命的敬畏與人性的底線。

羅瑾在一次沖洗底片時，驚覺照片中內容極其殘忍——中國平民遭到射殺、活埋、斬首等暴行的場景清晰可見。他在極度震撼與恐懼之下，仍然做出一個驚人的決定：秘密加印部分照片，並製作成一冊「血的相冊」。羅瑾從眾多影像中精選16張，親手裝訂成冊，並為其設計封面——一顆正在滴血的心臟，被一把刀刺穿，象徵著民族的苦難與撕裂。他給這本相冊命名為「京字第一號證據」，希望能將這些由日軍親自拍攝的暴行照片，作為未來追究戰爭責任的重要證據保留下來。

在那個時代，私藏任何揭露日軍罪行的材料都是極其危險的行為，一旦被發現，輕則酷刑拷打，重則滅門之災。儘管如此，羅瑾仍將這本相冊秘密保存兩年多。他知道，這不僅是一組照片，更是一段不能被遺忘的真相，是無數亡靈的見證。

到1941年，由於生計困難，羅瑾被迫加入汪偽政權所屬的通訊隊。這個通訊隊駐地就在南京的毗盧寺舊址附近。為了繼續保護相冊，他在廁所的土牆內挖一個洞，把相冊藏在牆中，再用泥土恢復原狀。即便如此，他始終心神不寧，隔三差五就會前去檢查。直到某一天，他驚恐地發現磚塊已被人挪動，相冊不見。他深知此事關乎性命，若被日軍或偽政府發現，後果不堪設想。驚慌之下，他選擇悄然離開通訊隊，逃回湖南老家避禍。

令人意想不到的是，那本失蹤的相冊並未毀於戰火，而是在毗盧寺草叢中，被羅瑾在通訊隊的同學——愛國青年吳旋意外發現。吳旋得知相冊真相後，決定接續羅瑾的使命，繼續保護這份記錄民族苦難的證據。這本歷經生死傳承的相冊，最終成為南京軍事法庭審判日本戰犯谷壽夫的重要呈堂證供，為歷史留下無可推翻的鐵證。

電影《南京照相館》正是根據這段被長期埋藏的真實歷史改編而成。它不僅再現血淚交織的民族記憶，更深刻詮釋「記錄」與「記憶」的力量。小人物如羅瑾與吳旋，雖不在戰場殺敵，卻用相機與勇氣，守護著歷史的真相與民族的尊嚴。

隨著電影熱映，這段鮮為人知的真相被更多人看見與討論，喚醒人們對歷史的反思與對和平的珍視。它提醒我們：歷史不是冷冰冰的資料，而是由無數人的血與骨鑄成的記憶。唯有銘記過去，方能守護未來。

On the occasion of the 80th anniversary of the victory of the Chinese People’s War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression and the World Anti-Fascist War, the film The Nanjing Photo Studio was officially released on July 25, 2025. The film quickly drew widespread attention and emotional resonance from audiences. Far from being a fictional tale, the movie is based on a powerful and true historical event: a 15-year-old boy in Nanjing risked his life to hide photographic evidence of Japanese war crimes. The photo album he preserved ultimately became a key piece of evidence in the prosecution of Japanese war criminals, bringing long-buried historical truths back into the light.

The story begins in 1938, one year after the Nanjing Massacre. Near Guxi Lane in Nanjing, there was a photo studio named Huadong Photo Studio. A 15-year-old apprentice named Luo Jin worked there. At that time, after the Japanese army occupied Nanjing, some officers would bring their own photographs to local studios to be developed. These images often documented scenes of extreme brutality—massacres, torture, and humiliation of Chinese civilians. According to Ma Zhenduo, former director of China’s Second Historical Archives, the Japanese officers took these photos for “entertainment and release,” demonstrating a shocking lack of respect for life and basic humanity.

During one of his routine development tasks, Luo Jin was horrified to discover that the film he was processing contained graphic images of civilians being shot, buried alive, and beheaded. Despite being deeply shocked and terrified, Luo made a courageous decision: he secretly made extra prints of some of the photographs and compiled them into a photo album—an album of blood and truth. He carefully selected 16 photos from the film rolls, bound them by hand, and even designed a cover that depicted a bleeding heart pierced by a knife—symbolizing the nation’s suffering and agony. He named the album “Evidence No. 1 from the Capital,” intending for it to serve as future proof of the Japanese army’s atrocities.

At that time, secretly possessing any material that exposed Japanese war crimes was extremely dangerous. If discovered, one could face torture or even execution, along with threats to one’s entire family. Yet Luo Jin preserved the album in secret for over two years. He understood that this was not just a collection of images, but a vital record of the truth—evidence for the countless innocent lives lost.

In 1941, driven by poverty, Luo Jin joined the communication unit of the collaborationist Wang Jingwei regime. The unit was stationed near the ruins of Pilu Temple in Nanjing. To continue safeguarding the album, Luo dug a hole in the mud wall of a latrine and hid the album inside, carefully patching the wall afterward to conceal it. Still plagued by anxiety, he regularly returned to check on the hiding spot. One day, to his horror, he discovered that the bricks had been moved and the album was gone. Fearing for his life, he quickly left the unit and fled back to his hometown in Hunan to avoid potential repercussions.

Surprisingly, the missing album was not destroyed. Instead, it was discovered in the grass near Pilu Temple by Luo’s fellow communication unit member and patriotic youth, Wu Xuan. Upon learning the truth about the album, Wu chose to carry on Luo’s mission and continued to protect this crucial evidence of national suffering. After surviving the chaos of war, the album was eventually presented in the Nanjing Military Tribunal, where it served as critical evidence in the trial of Japanese war criminal Lieutenant General Tani Hisao, helping to bring justice and historical clarity.

The film The Nanjing Photo Studio is a faithful adaptation of this long-hidden but powerful historical account. It not only brings to life the pain and resilience of a nation’s memory but also profoundly conveys the power of “recording” and “remembering.” Though Luo Jin and Wu Xuan were not soldiers on the battlefield, they wielded cameras and courage to defend historical truth and the dignity of their people.

With the film now gaining popularity, this little-known but deeply moving story is being rediscovered and discussed by many. It prompts reflection on history and reminds people of the importance of cherishing peace. It teaches us that history is not a set of cold, dry facts, but the blood-and-bone memory of countless individuals. Only by remembering the past can we truly safeguard the future.