Chapter 16

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Here’s the translation:

—

The blazing summer sun was scorching.

In this kind of weather, going out was no easy feat. But Lin Hao went out not for any particular reason—just because staying home was too boring.

“Are you sure she’s not interested in you?”

“…Buddy, can you stop dreaming that everyone likes you?” Lin Hao adjusted his camera while responding to Xu Wei’s question. “The idea that everyone likes you only happens in TV dramas and novels.”

“What TV drama? What novel?”

“…Forget I said anything.” Lin Hao felt exasperated.

But that little pause actually helped him find the best angle. With a click, he captured a photo of an ancient locust tree. He loved photographing the look of this era and enjoyed capturing landscapes, too.

Xu Wei wasn’t interested in photography, but he always looked forward to seeing Lin Hao in TV dramas and movies. If it were a movie, he’d even buy a ticket at the cinema to show his support.

In this era of rampant piracy, it was actually rare to support a film in theaters. For example, last year Lin Hao went to see *In the Heat of the Sun,* but it only grossed fifty million at the box office. As for this year’s box-office leader in mainland China, James Cameron’s *True Lies,* it barely made it past one hundred million.

Lin Hao chuckled and told him that it would still be a few years before he’d act in such productions, since freshmen and sophomores at the Central Academy of Drama weren’t typically allowed to take on acting jobs.

“Why?”

Xu Wei looked puzzled. “Didn’t you go to that school just to act in a movies?”

“You need a foundation, too. You have to master the basics during your first and second years so that you can really act well later on. If you skip classes from the start, you might lose the whole point of attending this school.”

One of the reasons Lin Hao wanted to attend the Central Academy of Drama was to receive professional, systematic training. In his previous life, he could have tried joining some film crews right away, gradually developing his skills along the way.

Of course, the other reason was that the Central Academy offered a high platform.

In this era, overnight fame was practically impossible; the media industry was underdeveloped, so connections and background mattered greatly in the film and television industry. The Central Academy of Drama was a prestigious institution that would give him a head start.

Naturally, he wouldn’t go into all that detail with Xu Wei, and was just about to change the subject when his phone rang.

“Hello?”

These days, phones were mostly used for calls and texts, and Lin Hao rarely touched his phone if he was at home.

“The scores are out! Did you check yet?” Zhang Yue sounded thrilled on the other end, even though he couldn’t see her.

“Not yet. How about you?”

“Check yours first, then I’ll tell you mine!”

“…”

Lin Hao had to call to check his scores: 503 points, a fairly high score. For most families, this would have been an excellent score, and he figured it would definitely qualify him for a top-tier university. Pleased with that, he called Zhang Yue back.

As expected, Zhang Yue had scored 612, securing her place at Peking University. After congratulating her, Lin Hao agreed to join her family for a celebratory dinner, then hung up.

Was he being a bit too calm about it?

Xu Wei, on the other hand, was ecstatic about Lin Hao’s score, even more than Lin Hao himself, and insisted on calling friends to celebrate. Unsurprisingly, Lin Hao declined.

…

The acceptance letter arrived as expected, and the countdown to the start of school began. During this period, a small film crew approached Lin Hao, wanting him to act in a movie, which he declined.

For one, he wasn’t impressed with the project; for another, he had been warned.

Professor Chang had taken him out for a meal previously and given him a lot of advice. First, she said, unless it was a top-notch crew like Zhang Yimou’s or Chen Kaige’s, he should turn down any offers while in school.

Second, she advised him not to take any roles unless they were lead roles.

Third, whenever possible, he should choose films over television, as she believed his face would have a greater impact on the big screen.

To make sure Lin Hao understood, Professor Chang explained that the school wanted to prevent students from working with low-quality crews, which could lower their professional standing and limit future opportunities.

In this era, actors valued their reputation greatly, as there were fewer films and TV shows made each year. If you starred in a bad production, it would be hard to land a good role next time.

Lin Hao fully agreed with this and spent his time focusing on business, mainly related to a shopping mall near Xizhimen.

He also spent time hanging out with friends—some were going abroad, others to different cities for college—and catching up with ordinary friends (not celebrities) he’d gotten to know through photography. Most of these friends were relatively wealthy, so he didn’t feel the need to hold back financially around them.

Additionally, he took a photography trip to Shijiazhuang and Jinan, which turned out to be a rewarding experience.

…

And then, school started.

Being close to home, the location didn’t feel particularly exciting. In his previous life, Beijing had felt like a second hometown after living there for so many years. Now, with it becoming his real hometown, the thrill was somewhat diminished.

Before, he would arrive by train at Beijing West Railway Station or take the airport line. Now? Well, he packed his suitcase anyway; even if the school was close, it felt right to go through the motions.

After getting everything together, he took a taxi to the campus entrance. There weren’t many people around, which made sense—there was only one major track in the acting department, and only 19 students had been accepted that year.

How many people could there be?

There was just a big red banner hanging up, no sign of the various clubs, sales of supplies, or phone cards that would typically come with the start of a school year. Fortunately, there were signs pointing to everything he needed. Being familiar with the campus helped, too.

First, he paid the tuition, then found out his assigned dorm room, filled out the necessary forms, and headed over with his luggage. More tasks would come later, but nothing urgent.

After a few twists and turns, he arrived at the dorm, and to his surprise, he saw Wang Qianyuan.

…

“Senior!”

Wang Qianyuan looked up, visibly relieved to see a familiar face. “Hey, you’re just in time! Could you watch over this spot for me while I run to the restroom?”

“…”

Lin Hao sighed. Wasn’t he here to register?

But since even the teacher smiled without saying anything, Lin Hao agreed, though he made sure to pay his fees first. Going to an arts school back then required a decent financial background; just imagine what his tuition was.

Over ten thousand!

And this was in 1996!

Professor Chang had mentioned that they’d soon reform the tuition structure to lower fees, but that change wouldn’t take effect until next year. For Lin Hao’s cohort, nothing would change.

Money wasn’t an issue for him, though. After taking care of the necessary fees, he went to cover Wang Qianyuan’s spot, which only involved handling dorm registration and guiding students with forms.

He wondered who he’d be sharing a dorm with.

Sadly, his curiosity was quickly deflated when he saw the first name on the list: Liu Ye. Given that their last names both started with “L,” it made sense, but he was not particularly thrilled, recalling some unpleasantness from a previous encounter. His mood soured immediately.