After a good night's sleep, Liu Zhou felt much more relaxed.
There were three days allocated for freshman registration, and today was the second day. Early in the morning, Liu Zhou got up and headed to the small school playground.
Since he had decided to change himself, he would start by strengthening his physique.
Having a healthy body was crucial, whether for himself or for his work.
In his past life, he had let himself go a bit as time went on, slowly transforming from a strapping, handsome six-foot youth into a greasy middle-aged uncle with a naturally formed beer belly.
Although his family's modest wealth meant his appeal to women hadn't diminished much, sometimes he couldn't stand the sight of himself in the mirror.
Therefore, Liu Zhou had made up his mind last night to develop a habit of working out and properly maintain his current physique.
Clenching his teeth, he finished running ten laps and came back. Just as he finished taking a shower, Liu Ye burst in. Seeing Liu Zhou dripping wet, Liu Ye curled his lip and said, "You Southerners really love being clean, taking a shower early in the morning."
"I just finished working out. Not like you, sleeping until now."
"Then why didn't you call me? I really like working out too. By the way, do you play basketball? I love playing basketball."
"Of course I do. Ever heard of the Yangcheng Jordan?"
"Tsk. When are we going to play one-on-one and let you witness the Changchun Thomas?"
"Oh? You even know about Thomas. Seems like you have a bit of understanding of the NBA."
"Well, of course. I watch the NBA all the time."
"Since you watch it all the time, you should know that Thomas was already defeated by Jordan."
"Then do you admit that Thomas once made Jordan cry?" Liu Ye said with a slightly proud air.
"I'm not arguing about the NBA with someone who only half-understands it. Let's go get breakfast first."
With that, Liu Zhou walked out, and Liu Ye hurriedly followed.
After walking for a bit, Liu Ye noticed Liu Zhou was heading toward the school gate and asked, "Aren't we eating at the cafeteria?"
"You can eat at the cafeteria anytime. Let's look around the neighborhood first to see if there's anything good. That way, when you take female classmates out to eat later, you'll have the upper hand."
"Makes sense!"
After a simple breakfast and a stroll around the area surrounding the school, it was already past ten o'clock when they returned to the dorm.
The dorm was still empty, but Liu Ye's dorm already had a new classmate arriving.
Seeing an acting major classmate arrive, Liu Ye abandoned Liu Zhou—his old flame—without a moment's hesitation and without even looking back.
Liu Zhou looked at the quiet dorm and simply lay down on the bed.
Now alone, Liu Zhou took the opportunity to ponder the path he should take moving forward.
In his past life, after graduating from university, Liu Zhou used his family connections to enter the Pearl River Film Studio.
Who would have thought that the once-illustrious Pearl River Film Studio would go into decline, producing almost no films at all?
As a result, Liu Zhou spent several years just coasting by, until he finally felt it was utterly pointless and struck out on his own.
The entertainment industry is extremely realistic; an unpopular screenwriter is worth less than a dog.
However, Liu Zhou never had to worry about food and drinks. He wasn't living off his parents; rather, as a local of Yangcheng, the Liu family was fortunate enough to have become a low-key rental tycoon.
Well, perhaps "tycoon" was a stretch, but the monthly rental income alone amounted to hundreds of thousands.
Furthermore, since both his parents were only children, and he was an only child as well, he would eventually inherit the real estate from both sides of the family.
Before his rebirth, with rising prices, Liu Zhou's monthly rental income reached two to three million, with fixed assets worth hundreds of millions.
Yet Liu Zhou really didn't want to live the monotonous life of collecting rent every day; he needed to have something of his own to do.
Liu Zhou also felt he couldn't waste the four years of study at the Central Academy of Drama. With the help of classmates, he started out as a ghostwriter—though naturally, just as a hobby.
Not a single classmate from Liu Zhou's graduating year, including those from the directing department, had made it big.
If the Acting Department of the Central Academy of Drama's Class of '96 was a blooming garden of a hundred flowers, then the Dramaturgy and Directing Departments of the same class were a patch of wild grass, with many people later changing careers.
In the end, it was Liu Zhou—who never had to worry about food or clothing—who fared the best. Not only was he fortunate enough to participate in several major projects, but by the time of his rebirth, he was already able to get official screen credit.
However, if he wanted to make a name for himself in the entertainment industry, continuing solely as a screenwriter was definitely out of the question.
Aside from the few renowned names, screenwriters in the Chinese-speaking world held the lowest status in the industry.
Even the most famous ones didn't command a very high status. Take Liu Heping, the screenwriter of *Ming Dynasty 1566*—he could be considered a top-tier writer in the industry.
He spent several years researching and writing the script for that television drama, producing over a million words of text. Yet, after pouring his heart and soul into its completion, he still had to bow to capital.
Had it not been for the deep-pockets of Hunan TV wanting to try their hand at the serious drama market and investing in its production, this TV series with the highest Douban rating might never have seen the light of day.
With his understanding of the industry trends over the next twenty years, he could still make a name for himself as a screenwriter.
But having lived a second life, Liu Zhou didn't want to keep pandering to other people's whims.
Therefore, the path of an actor could also be ruled out. An actor's status was actually not much higher than a writer's, mostly leaving them in a position of being chosen.
Although quite a few actors eventually transitioned into capital down the road, that was a minority after all, and it would take ten or twenty years.
Liu Zhou couldn't wait that long, nor did he want to keep himself constantly in the spotlight, which left almost no privacy.
Thus, the best choice was the path of a director.
Unlike in Hollywood, the status of a director in Mainland China was extremely high.
Backed by experiences from the next twenty years, good stories wouldn't be lacking, and he should be able to make a breakthrough as a director.
Moreover, directing offered a quicker route to transitioning into capital and standing at the pinnacle of the entertainment industry.
Since he had chosen the path of a director, the only remaining question was learning how to be one.
He didn't need to spend too much energy on the courses for the dramaturgy major; he just needed to make sure he didn't fail any classes.
Liu Zhou didn't complain about why he hadn't been reborn a bit earlier so he could apply to the Beijing Film Academy, where their directing major was the strongest.
To tell the truth, being able to get into the Central Academy of Drama already made him luckier than many people. Besides, even if he had applied to the Beijing Film Academy's directing department, he wouldn't necessarily have gotten in.
Furthermore, the Dramaturgy Department of the Central Academy of Drama had produced famous directors; his direct senior Diao Yinan was a prime example, and he was currently likely working on the project *Spicy Love Soup* with a group of graduates from the Central Academy of Drama.
However, the most important thing for a director making a movie was securing money; otherwise, at the very beginning, they still had to beg everyone for investments.
The Sixth Generation directors all started out that way, spending several years on a single project simply because they lacked money, until winning awards in Europe gradually brought in investors.
Of course Liu Zhou's family had some money, but currently, those assets hadn't realized their full value yet, and for making a movie, it was merely a drop in the bucket.
Although Liu Zhou had confidence in himself, in the current film market, no one could predict anything for sure.
His family's assets were his ultimate fallback; Liu Zhou would have to be out of his mind to sink them into making a movie.
Besides, what director uses their own money to make films?
When it was time to raise capital, he still had to raise capital!
However, if he wanted to maintain the initiative, he still needed to have some capital of his own. Without touching his family's funds, he still had to drum up some cash on his own.
Although this era was said to be paved with gold, apart from collecting rent and writing scripts, he didn't seem to know much else.
If he wanted to make money, it seemed he still had to rely on the writing work he was best at!