Just as Liu Zhou was sketching a grand blueprint for his future development, Liu Ye, that fiery-spirited youth, barged into the dormitory.
"Old Liu, come to my dorm. Let me introduce you to a few of my classmates from the performance class."
Having spent the day together, the two had grown quite close, and their forms of address had become much more affectionate. Both were born in 1978, though Liu Ye was born in March and Liu Zhou in August. Liu Ye had initially wanted Liu Zhou to call him older brother, but Liu Zhou completely ignored him.
"How many people are in your dorm?"
"Three have arrived. Let's go, I'll introduce you."
Liu Zhou didn't refuse. Getting to know more people was always a good thing; the students in this year's performance class had exceptionally strong professional abilities, regardless of whether they would become famous later on. They were, after all, a cohort carefully crafted by Teacher Chang Li.
The twenty students in the performance class were either specialized talents from traditional opera or dance backgrounds, or students with a solid foundational base. Don't let Liu Ye's goofy demeanor fool you—he grew up in the compound of the Changchun Film Studio. His father was a lighting technician there, and his mother was one of its leaders. To be honest, the Changchun Film Studio was an even more formidable entity than the Pearl River Film Studio, so Liu Ye had been steeped in this environment since childhood, and his foundation was rock-solid.
Moreover, this cohort was also the first batch of seedlings for the Central Academy of Drama's educational reform. With the exception of Zhang Ziyi, everyone else had been admitted through the national college entrance examination. In the past, many of the performance classes at the Central Academy of Drama relied on recommendations or targeted commissioned training. For instance, the Class of '87 was a joint educational program between the Beijing People's Art Theatre and the Central Academy of Drama, with Su Min—the renowned veteran artist and father of Pu Cunxin—personally serving as the head teacher. He Bing, Hu Jun, and Xu Fan were all from this cohort, and most of them later joined the Beijing People's Art Theatre.
Then there was the Central Academy of Drama's Class of '90, often referred to as the Xinjiang Class. This didn't mean they were all from Xinjiang; rather, many were descendants of the production corps and workers who had gone to develop Xinjiang in earlier years. Li Yapeng and Chen Jianbin belonged to this cohort.
Starting in 1996, however, the Central Academy of Drama began enrolling students through the college entrance examination. Although Zhang Ziyi did not take the gaokao, she possessed an exceptional dance background. Teacher Chang Li personally wrote a letter to the Ministry of Education on her behalf, and coupled with Zhang Ziyi's genuine excellence—having won national first and second-class awards—she was granted approval for exceptional admission.
Aside from Zhang Ziyi, Yuan Quan was also personally invited by Teacher Chang Li. Yuan Quan had actually been directly admitted by the Beijing Film Academy, and taking the exam for the Central Academy of Drama was merely a way to fulfill a distant, seemingly impossible dream in the young girl's heart. To get her to enroll at the Central Academy of Drama, Chang Li stubbornly wrote a nine-page letter to Yuan Quan's parents, finally moving them to agree to let her attend.
Therefore, every student in this performance class was meticulously handpicked by Chang Li. Through her four years of rigorous teaching, the graduation success rate of this cohort was practically one hundred percent. If Liu Zhou wanted to make his way in the entertainment industry, these classmates would be his best network of resources.
Arriving at Liu Ye's dorm, Liu Zhou saw three slightly slender figures tidying up their beds. They stopped what they were doing when they saw the two enter.
"Come on, let me introduce you. This is Liu Zhou from the Dramatic Literature Department, from Yangcheng. I met him on my very first day here. Even though he's not in our class, if you guys want to chase girls, you should ask him for pointers—he really knows his stuff."
"Oh, cut it out and stop ruining my reputation. I've never even been in a relationship," Liu Zhou retorted, then turned to the other three and said, "Hello everyone, my name is Liu Zhou. Let's all get to know each other better from now on."
Liu Ye stopped joking around as well and introduced them to Liu Zhou: "This tall guy is Qin Hao, also from the Northeast, but from Shenyang. This is Dang Hao, from Fushun in the Northeast, and this is Wang Li, from Huangshan in Anhui."
Of the three, Liu Zhou only knew the first two. Qin Hao went without saying, while Dang Hao rarely appeared on the big or small screen after graduation, remaining primarily active in stage plays. As for Wang Li, Liu Zhou truly had no impression of him, assuming he must have been weeded out and expelled during his freshman year.
Although the performance class at the Central Academy of Drama had admitted twenty students, only sixteen ultimately graduated. Teaching standards at the Central Academy of Drama were extremely strict at the time; getting accepted didn't mean you could rest easy. There was a screening period during the freshman year, and if you were deemed unsuitable, you would be expelled—three students were dropped this way. Additionally, Mei Ting dropped out midway through her freshman year because she insisted on making a movie, leaving a final total of sixteen people.
Presumably, this Wang Li was one of the students expelled for failing to pass the screening period.
Even so, Liu Zhou treated everyone equally, warmly greeting them one by one. College students were like that—once you knew someone's name, you considered them an acquaintance. Coincidentally, it was time for lunch, so the five of them agreed to go grab a bite together.
Conversations among guys naturally gravitated toward girls. While eating, Liu Ye shamelessly bragged about his understanding of the girls at the Central Academy of Drama after just one day on campus. Liu Zhou didn't call his bluff, though Liu Ye was right about one thing: almost all the girls in their class this time around were very attractive. Although the Central Academy of Drama and the Beijing Film Academy didn't solely judge by looks during admissions back then as they would in later generations, none of them lacked in appearance, and girls without a certain air of temperament were rarely admitted.
After lunch, the group strolled around the campus. Liu Ye exercised his linguistic talents by continuously introducing the sights to the three newcomers. Qin Hao and Dang Hao were both from the Northeast and hit it off well with Liu Ye, while Wang Li was more reticent, mostly just listening with very little to say.
Returning to the dormitory, Liu Zhou found that two of his roommates had already arrived. Their beds were made, but they were out. Before long, however, another young man walked in carrying luggage.
Seeing the newcomer, Liu Zhou smiled brightly.
"Hello, you're from the Dramatic Literature Department too, right?" Liu Zhou asked warmly.
Because both the Dramatic Literature Department and the Directing Department enrolled very few students—the Class of '96 Dramatic Literature Department took only seven people, and the Directing Department even fewer, just five—the dormitories for these two majors were mixed together.
Yet the person who had just walked in was none other than Wang Qingshan, the only classmate Liu Zhou had remained good friends with during his university years. After leaving the Pearl River Film Studio, Liu Zhou had been introduced to the industry by him.
"Yes, are you from the Dramatic Literature Department too?"
"That's right, my name is Liu Zhou. Please take care of me from now on." With that, Liu Zhou extended his right hand.
Wang Qingshan didn't know why Liu Zhou was being so enthusiastic, but he still hastily reached out to shake his hand and said, "My name is Wang Qingshan. Please take care of me too."
Due to first impressions in a new environment, people always felt a greater sense of kinship with the very first person they met. Coupled with Liu Zhou's warmth, Wang Qingshan's favorable impression of him soared, and the two immediately struck up a conversation.
Before they could chat for long, two more people walked in—the roommates who had arrived earlier.
After some brief conversation, everyone got acquainted. In Liu Zhou's memory, the Dramatic Literature and Directing Departments totaled twelve people, with ten guys among them, but only six lived on campus, which filled the dormitory rooms to the exact capacity.
Admissions for these two majors didn't rely purely on the national college entrance examinations like the performance classes did; there were other channels of entry as well. Some students had already been working and had their own living arrangements outside, and there was a significant age gap among them. Liu Zhou was the youngest at just eighteen, while the oldest in the Dramatic Literature Department was already twenty-five.
After everyone had introduced themselves, Liu Zhou decided it was only polite to return the courtesy. He led his dorm mates over to Liu Ye's room so everyone could meet. Since they were all peers and fresh-faced newcomers, a simple round of introductions quickly made them familiar with one another.
That evening, the two dormitories formed a boisterous group and headed to a restaurant near the school gate for dinner. People who managed to pass the exams for arts academies generally came from decent family backgrounds, so eating out posed zero financial pressure.
With the three days of registration over, the classes were fully assembled. Because Liu Ye and Liu Zhou acted as bridges, the boundary between the performance class and the dramatic literature class wasn't so stark, and everyone essentially knew each other.
Especially when the few standout beauties of the performance class made their appearance, Liu Zhou's status within the dramatic literature class skyrocketed—without him, it wouldn't have been so easy for them to get to know the people from the performance class.
Liu Zhou, however, didn't get overly excited. Even though they would all become stars later on, he didn't act like a gushing fan. Though they were freshmen, they weren'il naive girls who had never seen the world; trying to win them over with sycophantic gestures was practically impossible, so Liu Zhou maintained a very nonchalant attitude.
Ironically, this nonchalance—so different from the burning enthusiasm of the other guys—left an even deeper impression on the girls.
Following registration, the Central Academy of Drama Class of '96 officially began their university studies and campus life.
The first day had few classes; it was mainly about getting acquainted and electing class officers. Because the Dramatic Literature Department had a smaller headcount, they only elected a monitor and left it at that.
Liu Zhou didn't care much about that. What interested him most was his head teacher. In his past life, Liu Zhou spent his four years of university keeping his head down and studying without ever looking up at the road ahead, completely overlooking this head teacher. Because head teachers didn't teach academic classes, their role was to look after students in all aspects of life, but since Liu Zhou focused entirely on his studies, his relationship with the head teacher had been rather ordinary.
Yet this head teacher was actually a hidden heavyweight—not only was he the deputy head of the department, but he was also a teacher specially groomed by the veteran president Xu Xiaozhong, as well as the head teacher for the Class of '93 Dramatic Literature Department.
If the Class of '96 Performance Department was the Golden Generation, then the Golden Generation of the Dramatic Literature Department was undoubtedly the Class of '93. That cohort spawned a batch of wildly famous screenwriters in the industry:
There was Wang Hailin, screenwriter of the television series *The Bronze Teeth Ji Xiaolan* series, who would later become famous for constantly roasting young idol actors;
Guo Junli, screenwriter of the films *Let the Bullets Fly* and *Bodyguards and Assassins*;
Lan Xiaolong, screenwriter of the television series *Soldier's Task*;
Yan Gang, screenwriter of the television series *Legend of Chu and Han*;
Gao Dayong, screenwriter of the television series *Journey to the West*, among others.
In addition, several others went on to work in dramatic education, including Hu Wei and Qu Shifei, who later became associate professors in the Dramatic Literature Department at the Central Academy of Drama; Gao Cheng, associate professor in the Dramatic Literature Department at the Shanghai Theatre Academy; and Zhao Lili, head of the Dramatic Literature Department at the Nanjing Arts Institute.
Whether it was some sort of bad luck for his own cohort, not a single person in Liu Zhou's class had bothered to cozy up to this well-connected head teacher. There was a saying in later generations: the most formidable person we ever encounter in our lifetime might just be our university teacher. For them in their past lives, those words rang profoundly true.
In this lifetime, Liu Zhou wasn't going to be that foolish again.
"Classmates, my name is Huang Weiruo, and I will be your head teacher for the next four years. We can save the polite formalities for later; let's start with brief self-introductions so everyone can get to know each other."
After all, the dramatic literature class wasn't as boisterous as the performance class, and everyone's self-introductions were relatively simple. Liu Zhou didn't try to stand out either; he wasn't an inherently humorous person anyway, and he had plenty of time ahead to build a relationship with the head teacher.
"Actually, there isn't much on the agenda today—just getting acquainted. Military training starts the day after tomorrow and will last for half a month. Even though I won't be teaching your classes, I want each of you to submit a script as soon as military training ends. Whether it's a sketch, a stage play, a musical, or even a film screenplay, let's see what your standard looks like."
As soon as the head teacher finished speaking, the rest of the room broke into groans of dismay—none of them expected homework on the very first day of school.
The only one whose expression remained unchanged was Liu Zhou; this was far too simple for him. The only real difficulty for him was carefully considering which script to submit.