This article rereads Lü Heruo’s 1943 Japanese short story “Yulan Flower” through the paired concepts of the “absent face” and “fields of reverberation,” challenging the habitual view of the text as a simple story of Japan–Taiwan friendship and childhood warmth. Returning to the Japanese original and situating it within the literary context of wartime Taiwan, the essay offers close readings of the old family photographs, the courtyard and magnolia tree, the episode of fever and soul-calling, and the fragrance invoked by the title. It argues that Suzuki Zenbei, positioned from the outset outside the frame as a photographer, repeatedly disappears from both image and recollection. By contrast, what stubbornly survives in memory is the Taiwanese family, the courtyard, the magnolia tree, and sensory fragments such as wind, rustling leaves, calls of address, and the bodily sensation of swaying in the tree—what this article terms “fields of reverberation.” Magnolia fragrance, moreover, is not presented as the narrator’s stable sensory memory; it appears only in a speculative sentence assigned to the Japanese youth’s position and acquires a second layer of meaning through later readers’ acts of supplementation. Reconsidered alongside Cai Peihuo’s and Oguma Eiji’s discussions of “same body, different selves,” “Yulan Flower” emerges not as a harmonious colonial friendship narrative but as a wartime form of co-presence sustained by preserved differences and marked, ultimately, by asymmetry and fracture.