The Fourth Portrait 2010

Xiao Xiang is ten this year, and the world around him shifts in a single, devastating moment when his father dies at home from illness. With the family’s finances collapsing and a child left to fend for himself, Xiao Xiang’s instincts kick in: he steals a lunchbox at school and, in that small act of defiance, encounters a rough-looking yet compassionate janitor who works at the same institution. The janitor becomes a quiet ally as the two of them scavenge through discarded items, turning forgotten objects into makeshift treasures and, in the process, offering Xiao Xiang a rare sense of place and safety. In these moments, the school and its overlooked corners begin to feel like a home in waiting, a fragile sanctuary where trust can sprout even amid hardship.

But the fragile balance is upended when the long-lost mother Wu Chun-Lan Wu Chun-Lan arrives, pulling Xiao Xiang into a brand-new family. The arrival of the birth mother, and soon after the stepfather Le beau père, reveals a shadowy layer to Xiao Xiang’s past that he never fully understood. The home he enters is unfamiliar to him, and he senses the tension that lingers between his mother and the man who is supposed to guide him. The stepfather’s stern disposition creates a chilly distance, and Xiao Xiang, already dealing with loss, feels out of sync in a place that is supposed to be his security. The sense of belonging he sought in the janitor’s world feels more distant than ever as he navigates this new family dynamic, and the tension only grows as the adults circle around his presence with measured caution.

In the midst of this unsettling transition, Xiao Xiang crosses paths with Gun Boy, a chance encounter that sends him wandering and, at times, stealing again as a means of surviving and finding control in a life that feels increasingly tangled. The boy’s resolve hardens as he clings to the idea that he still has an older brother somewhere—an image that appears in his drawings and his dreams. The sketch of a fragile body walking along a riverbank becomes a recurring motif, a visual echo of what is missing and what has never been fully explained. The art teacher notices the pattern in Xiao Xiang’s drawings and challenges his mother to confront the gaps in his schooling and history, especially the absence of his brother from his records. This moment becomes a catalyst, pushing the family toward a reckoning that they have long avoided.

As the investigation unfolds, the police become involved, casting a further strain on the already tense relationship between Xiao Xiang and his stepfather. The film carefully traces how each new piece of information unsettles the household’s fragile balance, revealing that the truth behind the brother’s disappearance is not a simple tale of absence but a labyrinth of choices, secrets, and consequences that have shaped the child’s life in ways no one anticipated. The stepfather, a man defined by his stern exterior, finally reveals a profound monologue that pierces through the layers of fear and misunderstanding. In this pivotal moment, the truth behind the brother’s disappearance comes to light, exposing the intricate, painful reality of the family’s past and the forces that quietly controlled Xiao Xiang’s present.

What emerges is a portrait of a boy caught between two families and two mark‑ups of love: the quiet, loyal companionship he discovers with others who show him small acts of care, and the heavy accusations, unspoken regrets, and hard choices that erupt when the past demands to be faced. The film holds steady on the tension between what is spoken aloud and what remains unspoken, letting Xiao Xiang’s inner life and the adults’ evasions intersect in a way that feels intimate and humane. Through slow, observant scenes and a restrained emotional rhythm, the story builds toward a revelatory moment that does not sensationalize but rather honors the complexity of memory, responsibility, and the long road to understanding one another.

In the end, the truth about the brother’s disappearance is laid bare not as a neat conclusion but as a legacy that shapes the people left behind. The stepfather’s monologue, powerful and unflinching, becomes the hinge upon which the film’s moral compass turns: it is a meditation on the pain of family history, the ways we protect those we love by concealing truths, and the difficult, often painful steps required to rebuild trust when a child’s sense of home has been fractured. The movie leaves Xiao Xiang standing at the edge of a new chapter—a life that acknowledges the past while choosing to move forward with a cautious, hopeful gaze.