Chapter 316: Uncontrollable Compassion

Fang Hong paced on stage as he recounted his early entrepreneurial experiences and mindset, blending truth and fiction to reconstruct those events.

Those events happened several years ago, yet the students below listened, utterly captivated.

It was because when the Principal spoke of his own journey, he periodically wove in lessons on life: how to handle anxiety, how to endure pain.

"So back then, I worked tirelessly—studying every detail, from set design to lighting, from camera framing to the actors' performances, constantly questioning: Was it poorly shot? Was there something wrong?"

"That period was honestly hard, but when the film was finally released and earned over a hundred million at the box office, I was overwhelmed with emotion—I felt my efforts weren't in vain, that they'd been seen."

"I remember clearly: 130 million—that was the box office of my first film. Though insignificant by today's standards, it remains the moment I remember most vividly."

Fang Hong paused here, and some in the audience showed visible emotional reactions.

They already knew the answer, yet hearing it from the Principal still stirred them deeply.

"That experience seems trivial to me now, but remember this: many small changes began precisely at moments like that."

"No one knows which point along life's curve triggered the turning point—but when you press down hard on that point, future experiences will tell you your judgment at the time was right."

Fang Hong spoke passionately; the audience listened spellbound, gazing at him on stage with reverence.

"This experience is like Tang Seng's journey to the Western Heavens fourteen hundred years ago—when he returned, can you imagine how he felt?"

"Tang Seng wasn't sent off by the emperor—he slipped away on his own, driven by immense mission and religious fervor, knowing he might never return."

"Can you imagine the moment he looked toward Chang'an, his heart surging with excitement and emotion? What kind of feeling was that?"

"When he sat at Ci'en Temple, ginkgo leaves falling, morning bells and evening drums echoing, as he taught his disciples, what kind of grandeur filled his heart? Do you know?"

At that moment, just as now, Fang Hong was speaking—but his heart did not feel that grandeur.

"But students, I often wonder: why do I make money? Why do I seek success?"

"Why did Tang Seng go to the Western Heavens, enduring mountains and rivers, demons and monsters, with no high-speed rail, no safety—why not stay in Chang'an, where everything was splendid? Can you understand this sense of mission?"

Someone in the audience instinctively shook their head, unable to comprehend.

"I recall a phrase people often mention: Why do I live? Just as you ask yourselves: Why study?"

"The longing for knowledge, the pursuit of love, the uncontrollable compassion for human suffering—these three simple yet fierce passions have governed my life, said Russell."

"Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!"

The auditorium erupted in loud, passionate applause; some clapped so hard they nearly turned their palms red.

Some even shed tears, clearly moved—this moment made them feel their studies had meaning.

Even the teachers at the back clapped involuntarily.

It felt as if Fang Hong's spirit had been elevated at this very moment!

Just as Fang Hong often said he wanted to use his ability to help ordinary people around him grow wealthy—this was his lifelong mission, the driving force behind his wealth.

Uncontrollable compassion for suffering!

He had been poor. He had suffered. He knew how terrifying poverty was, how terrifying suffering was.

The applause lasted long; Fang Hong stopped speaking here, and the next segment was the Q&A, open for students to ask freely.

Most students needed a moment to recover, their emotions still stirred.

After a long while, a slender, delicate girl rose and took the microphone: "Hello, senior, I'm Sun Yi, a first-year student."

She bowed slightly, nervously asking: "You've been in the entertainment industry so long and achieved such success—I'd like to ask, what is the entertainment industry really like? What advice do you have for us, fresh recruits of Beijing Film Academy?"

Many new students at Beijing Film Academy feel lost for a while, because they've heard the entertainment industry is corrupt, full of hidden rules.

It's mysterious, alluring, yet frightening.

"The entertainment industry? In plain terms, it's just a circle—a circle made of many smaller circles, closed, selfish, and backward."

Fang Hong's words caused many to change expression—the Principal truly dared to speak plainly.

But given his status, who could punish him for saying something reckless? He was beyond reach.

"Let me tell you a story—you'll understand. There was a boss who, once rich, wanted to raise his social status, so he decided to invest in films and TV dramas."

The Producer, of course, was delighted—money was money—and asked what the boss wanted. The boss said: "I want to play the male lead, just for fun."

The director was stunned: "Bro, this is a youth idol drama—the male and female leads are both young, beautiful college students. Your appearance?"

"This boss's age could have fathered a college student."

The students below chuckled softly.

"The Producer was clever—he suggested to the director: let the screenwriter add a subplot, have him play the older brother who obsessively pursues the female lead—would that work?"

The director hesitated—how could an idol drama suddenly include such a social big brother? But after much persuasion from the Producer, he finally agreed, swayed by money."

"Hehehe!" Laughter rose again in the hall.

No one knew why it was funny—it was a tragic story, a destruction of cinematic culture.

Fang Hong continued: "Don't laugh. The real problem is still coming. When the boss joined the set, he set his eyes on the female lead—she was a recent graduate from drama school, delicate and beautiful. As he acted, he became immersed, falling for her."

"So the boss asked the director to add scenes—he said, since he was funding this, he needed a kissing scene with the female lead. If not, he'd pull funding."

The director refused outright, showing backbone—but as soon as he hung up, his bank account received a deposit. Seeing the number, he immediately agreed to add the romantic scenes."

"And it didn't end there. Soon after, the boss made another demand: add a passionate scene—a bed scene."

That night, the director invited the Producer out for drinks and said: 'This film can't be made.' The Producer, drunk, replied: 'Bro, stop talking about art.'

'The female lead is art—she's my woman,' said the director."

When Fang Hong finished his last line, the entire hall erupted in shocked murmurs, everyone exchanging glances.

At first, they saw the boss as the villain—evil, destroying cinematic culture—but that final line made them realize: the entertainment industry is truly chaotic.

Clearly, the director had also exploited the female lead.

Though we don't know how the story ended, it revealed the true nature of the entertainment industry.

Moneyed patrons make arbitrary demands, screenwriters rewrite scripts, directors exploit actors.

"You asked me for advice—I can only say: as long as you don't have strong utilitarian ambitions, you can survive in this circle. After all, you're professionally trained—you can land small roles. In the future, content will rule."

"But if you want to climb higher, become a superstar, you'll pay a price—and even after paying it, you might not get what you want."

Climbing up in this circle is hard—you have to step on many people to rise, but if you want to step down, it's easy; just follow your own will, and no one can stop you.

Fang Hong stopped speaking here.

Sun Yi's delicate face flushed slightly as she bowed to Fang Hong. "Thank you, senior."

Other students who had just entered the campus also fell into thought, though most already knew what this circle was like.

In fact, most people at Beijing Film Academy are unknown, playing all kinds of minor supporting roles—like Sun Yi.

She later appeared in many films and TV dramas; though her roles were insignificant and her name didn't even appear in the credits, she married someone outside the industry and had children, living quite well.

"Senior, according to what we know, though you've succeeded, you built your career on plagiarism—how do you explain that?" A literature department student stood up and challenged.

"You're from the literature department—you should know all literary tropes have already been exhausted by the Four Great Classical Novels. Any article you write now, even with a new skin, can find similar tropes in the Four Great Classical Novels. Can I call you a plagiarist?" Fang Hong argued.

"It's different—your plagiarism is too obvious," the student said.

"When I sued Jiu Ba Dao, my lawyer compared his novel scene by scene, character by character—the similarity was under 20%. Can you call that plagiarism?"

Even Jiu Ba Dao himself changed many elements when he adapted the film, and Fang Hong altered even more on top of that, so most plot points are now unrecognizable.

Fang Hong continued: "I also attended university; I too had naive experiences chasing girls. I simply turned my imagined love into a film and showed it to everyone. If people recognize it as their own vision of love, then it proves that most people's love is probably this simple, this exact."

"Like abortion—I've made three films about abortion, all with nearly identical plots: a girl gets hurt by a boy, gets pregnant by accident, and has an abortion. Can you call that plagiarism?"

His chain of sophistry left the literature department student speechless.

Some students turned to look at him, thinking: Why are you even discussing this kind of issue with the Principal?

The student sat down, and another student from the Director Department stood up: "I'd like to ask the Principal: I know you've made many commercial trash films catering to the market. I just want to ask—now that you're so rich, why keep making trash films? What meaning does that hold for you? Why not make art films to enrich the audience's spiritual needs?"

This question stunned everyone present—it denied the Principal's current achievements and claimed his commercial films had no meaning whatsoever.

College students truly have boldness; they're skilled at raising doubts.

Fang Hong didn't interrupt the man but listened calmly to the end, then spoke.

"First, my wealth is earned through my own efforts—I owe no one anything. Second, what I make is my freedom. Making commercial films can entertain the masses, make them laugh—isn't that meaningful? You tell me, what is meaning?"

Fang Hong first stated his position: everything he has today is earned through his own effort—he stole nothing, cheated no one, and owes no obligation.

He added: "Why do audiences love commercial films? Because they relieve stress. Life is already hard enough; audiences just want to relax, enjoy visual impact, and feel joy. Isn't that enough meaning?"

(End of Chapter)