At this moment, Huang Weiruo, who was on Liu Zhou's mind, sat at his office desk looking thoroughly exhausted.
The beginning of the semester was always the busiest time, and this year Huang Weiruo found himself exceptionally swamped.
As the deputy head of the department, he had to handle various internal departmental affairs.
He was also the head advisor for the Class of '93 in screenwriting. The students in that cohort were now seniors and getting ready for their internships.
Most importantly, Huang Weiruo felt that the Class of '93 had an abundance of promising talents whom he refused to see go to waste. Because of this, he carefully handpicked their internship placements.
He was even worrying about where they would work after graduation next year, hoping they could land at good institutions and have a solid platform to start their careers.
These matters alone were already enough to keep Huang Weiruo run-ragged, but the dean had just assigned him the additional task of taking on the incoming freshmen, pushing his workload into overdrive.
With freshman orientation, military training schedules, and a myriad of other duties piled on his shoulders, nearly a month had passed since the start of the semester before Huang Weiruo could finally catch his breath.
Yet, upon seeing the stack of student assignments that had been sitting on his desk for nearly two weeks, Huang Weiruo realized he still couldn't afford to rest.
Since he had taken on the role of freshman advisor, he had to shoulder the responsibility.
Though Huang Weiruo wanted to take a break, the thought that his students might be eagerly waiting for his feedback made him pull himself together and get ready to review their assignments.
The reason he assigned this task, apart from wanting to gauge the freshmen's baseline level, was to spot any genuine raw talent among them.
The dramatic literature major placed a heavy emphasis on innate talent. While acquired learning could make up for shortcomings, it set a hard ceiling on one's potential.
Those with true talent, however, could go much further and would receive prioritized development from the academy.
One shouldn't view this as too pragmatic; every arts institution had such unspoken rules.
With his level of experience, Huang Weiruo could roughly discern the caliber of a freshman's work with just a quick glance.
If he were to read every single word with meticulous care, he worried it might drag down his own standards of appreciation.
Huang Weiruo skimmed through them rapidly, though he felt somewhat disappointed. After looking at seven or eight assignments, he found them all utterly mediocre, lacking even a single piece that could make his eyes light up.
He flipped through another three or four with the same result, and by then Huang Weiruo had abandoned all hope, yet he still dutifully picked up the very last notebook to read through it carefully.
"Hmm?"
Huang Weiruo, who had been lounging lazily, instantly sat up straight, picked up his pen, and began reading closely from the very beginning.
He read it a full three times before finally closing the notebook and letting out a long breath.
He looked at the title on the cover: The Tuner.
What a great script!
Then he looked at the author's name: Liu Zhou.
What a promising talent!
He vaguely remembered that this Liu Zhou seemed to be the youngest student in the class, admitted straight through the national college entrance examination, and was only eighteen years old this year.
From this script, it was evident that this eighteen-year-old youth possessed an extraordinary amount of talent.
The ancients said that encountering an exceptional teacher was a student's good fortune, but wasn't it equally fortunate for a teacher to encounter an exceptional student?
Take the students of the Class of '93, for instance; teaching them had been an absolute delight for Huang Weiruo, filling him with boundless energy.
That exact feeling welled up in him again because of Liu Zhou, sweeping away his exhaustion as if by magic.
Furthermore, he felt it necessary to have a proper chat with Liu Zhou about this work of his.
Liu Zhou had no idea that his advisor already had him pegged as a standout. At that moment, he was sweating it out on the basketball court with his classmates from the performance major.
Quite a few boys in the Class of '96 played basketball; the screenwriting and performance classes alone could easily muster ten players for a full-court game.
However, playing full-court was too exhausting, and due to court limitations, Liu Zhou and his friends usually played half-court 3v3 or 4v4.
Having played together for so long, it was universally acknowledged that Liu Zhou and Liu Ye had the best skills, and matches where the two of them captained opposing teams were always the most thrilling to watch.
Right now, Liu Zhou and Liu Ye were locked in a fierce battle on the court, the score tied at four-to-four, bringing both teams to match point.
Half-court games weren't played by points, but by made baskets—the first team to score five won, making way for the next challengers.
Today's game was exceptionally intense because quite a few female classmates were watching from the sidelines.
Anyone who played basketball knew that the presence of female spectators acted like an injection of adrenaline, boosting a player's performance by a cool hundred and twenty percent.
Consequently, after several grueling rounds, neither team had managed to score.
By this time, the stamina of both Liu Zhou's and Liu Ye's teams had hit rock bottom, and everyone was panting heavily.
Just then, Liu Zhou received a pass from a teammate on the right low block, and Liu Ye immediately clamped down on him in tight defense.
The two had played against each other numerous times; they had each experienced wins and losses, and each understood the other's skill level.
Liu Zhou adjusted his stance, putting his back to Liu Ye, who immediately leaned his weight against him to prevent a post-up move.
Instead, Liu Zhou gave a subtle head fake with his left shoulder, drawing Liu Ye's center of gravity to the left, before swiftly executing a right-turnaround fadeaway jumper.
The moment he released the shot, Liu Zhou felt it was going in; his shooting form had felt exceptionally smooth.
Sure enough, the basketball swished through the net!
Liu Zhou had learned this particular move from Kobe Bryant. He had once watched Kobe use it against Carmelo Anthony during the 2009 Western Conference Finals.
Kobe was Liu Zhou's absolute favorite basketball star, and when he later heard news of Kobe's passing, Liu Zhou—then a man in his forties—couldn't hold back his tears.
Right now, Kobe had just entered the NBA as a fresh rookie, and Liu Zhou wondered if he would ever have the chance to cross paths with him in this lifetime.
Normally, if there were no girls present, Liu Zhou definitely would have thrown a few pieces of trash talk at Liu Ye, but today he decided to exercise some restraint.
"Liu Ye, you ready to admit defeat?"
"Admit defeat my foot, you just got lucky."
"Still talking tough. Ten push-ups, right now. I'll count them for you."
After finishing his ten push-ups, Liu Ye panted and said:
"Let's go again in a minute!"
"I'm done, I'm kind of tired."
Liu Zhou wasn't about to give Liu Ye a chance at revenge today.
He knew very well that both of them had a shot at ending the game earlier; he just happened to get luckier this time.
Besides, Liu Zhou was genuinely tired, and even if they had won this round, he was heading off the court to rest.
Liu Zhou and Liu Ye sat on the sidelines to rest. They had barely taken two sips of water when Zeng Li and Yuan Quan walked over.
"You guys are amazing at basketball," Yuan Quan exclaimed in admiration.
She loved basketball too, but since no one else in her class played, she never got the chance.
Still, she had enough eye for the game to tell good from bad, and the skills of the two guys named Liu were genuinely impressive.
"So-so, just a tiny bit better than Liu Ye," Liu Zhou replied with a smile.
"You're shameless!"
"Losers shouldn't speak."
"Come on, let's play another game, one-on-one."
"Losers shouldn't speak."
"Do you only know how to say that one line?"
"Losers shouldn't speak."
"..."
"Losers shouldn't speak."
Zeng Li said with a smile:
"If you two don't bicker, do you even know how to talk?"
"Not really, it's just that Liu Ye always overestimates his abilities and comes to challenge me."
"Looking at you two, you really seem like brothers."
"If I had such a handful of a younger brother, life would be tough!"
Hearing this, Liu Ye immediately protested:
"I'm older than you, alright? You're the younger brother."
"Fine, Brother Ye, are we heading back to the dorm to get ready for a shower?"
With that, Liu Zhou turned to Zeng Li and Yuan Quan and said:
"We're heading off."
After taking a shower, Liu Zhou felt refreshed all over.
Following an exhilarating basketball game, his mind felt sharper than ever, and when he sat down at his desk, his writing flowed without a single pause.
Today happened to be Friday; normally tomorrow would be the weekend, but because the National Day holiday was just a couple of days away, classes were still scheduled for Saturday and Sunday.
Even so, everyone else in the dorm had gone out, leaving Liu Zhou to enjoy the rare peace and quiet.
Just as Liu Zhou was writing as if guided by divine inspiration, a sudden knock sounded at the door. He looked up and was surprised to see his advisor, Huang Weiruo, standing there.
Seeing the somewhat messy state of the room, Liu Zhou felt a momentary panic.
"Teacher Huang, are you doing a dorm check?"
"No, I came to find you."
Hearing his advisor say this, Liu Zhou was momentarily stunned before a wave of joy washed over him. It seemed his assignment had successfully piqued the teacher's interest.
Huang Weiruo didn't beat around the bush and instead cut straight to the point:
"I read your assignment carefully. It's exceptionally well-done. The script has a very high degree of completion. Have you written scripts before, or has someone taught you previously?"
"Teacher Huang, my uncle is a screenwriter at Pearl River Film Studio, and I grew up there. Seeing my interest, my uncle taught me quite a bit, and I've tried writing scripts before."
"No wonder. When I read the script for your short film, I couldn't find a single thing that needed changing. It's clear you've put in the real work."
Faced with his advisor's praise, Liu Zhou offered an appropriately modest and shy smile.
"Liu Zhou, this script of yours is fantastic. If you want to get it produced, I can help recommend it for you. I'm sure quite a few people would be interested."
At this, Liu Zhou pondered for a moment before saying:
"Teacher, I want to direct it myself!"
"You want to direct it yourself? Are you planning to become a director?" Huang Weiruo asked in surprise.
"Yes!"
"Liu Zhou, you need to think this through. Being a director isn't that easy."
"I've thought it through. If Jiang Wen can transition into directing, I should be able to do it too."
Seeing that Liu Zhou actually compared himself to Jiang Wen, Huang Weiruo couldn't help laughing:
"It seems you have lofty ambitions. Jiang Wen is a once-in-a-decade figure from our Central Academy of Drama, and you're actually comparing yourself to him."
"A person has to have dreams, right? What if they come true?"
Huang Weiruo felt an even greater appreciation for the fearless young man before him.
"Since you plan to direct it yourself, I won't object. When you have time, you can sit in on classes at the Department of Directing, or you can go over to Beijing Film Academy to audit their classes. Their director training leans more toward film, which might be more useful to you."
"Thank you, Teacher. Actually, that was precisely my plan for next," Liu Zhou replied with a smile.
"But let's make one thing clear: while your screenwriting skills are decent and I can cut you some slack, you must ensure you don't fail your core major classes."
"No problem, Teacher. I guarantee I won't fail anything."
"If you have any questions in the future, come straight to me."
"Teacher, I actually have a question right now."
"Go ahead."
"Teacher, could you help me get a schedule for the directing classes at Beijing Film Academy?"
"No problem. Come to my office to pick it up tomorrow."
"Many thanks, Teacher. You've done me a huge favor; this was a problem that had me stumped for two weeks."
Liu Zhou wasn't a truly naive freshman; he knew exactly what to say to make people feel good.
Sure enough, Huang Weiruo chuckled and said:
"Stop buttering me up. When your roommates get back, don't forget to make them clean up this place—look how messy it is."
With that, Huang Weiruo turned and left.
As the advisor walked away, a smile broke across Liu Zhou's face. It seemed his university journey had gotten off to a pretty good start.