Chapter 455: Independent in the World

The news that Liu Tianxian would appear at Peking University to give a lecture spread quickly across campus.

Even those bedridden, years-long shut-ins who never left their dorms to play games or scroll on their phones had heard the news.

"Stop jerking off, Liu Tianxian's here—come back and finish later," one roommate shouted to another lying on the bed.

"Liu Tianxian's here?" Another youth on a different bed sat up instantly, visibly excited—he was bare-chested.

This startled the one who had shouted.

"She's here, just entered our campus—you can see her now, super beautiful."

"Fuck, my goddess, I'm going to see her."

Liu Tianxian was preparing backstage, mainly deciding what to say; staff were tidying her appearance—she was being treated with great care.

Yet these students all had manners; no matter what they did behind closed doors, their basic conduct in public remained intact—this was, after all, a university.

To see Liu Tianxian, just wait for her lecture! Under protection, she entered the auditorium through a side door with university officials, while the front entrance was left for the students.

"I remember once the Principal asked me—the Principal of Yutu—he said, 'Have you ever thought of giving up? Giving up being an actress? You already have enough money to live comfortably.'"

This auditorium is called the Office Building Auditorium—its exterior is grand and elegant, the only auditorium at Peking University, where many famous figures have given lectures.

I said I never thought of giving up; no matter how hard, painful, or exhausting the path, I wouldn't quit. I might give myself time to adjust, but my dream would always remain.

Whether the audience can be seated depends on the speaker's influence.

Liu Tianxian nodded, took the microphone, and appeared on stage from backstage. The stage was about as tall as an adult, offering a clear view of the entire auditorium.

It seemed Liu Tianxian had something to her.

As for me, I was the opposite—depressed, dull, heavy with despair, filled with even negative thoughts inside.

As Liu Tianxian spoke, applause erupted—this was, in effect, sharing her life story with them.

"These are all my personal experiences, not universally applicable—I'm only sharing what I've lived through these years."

"Clap, clap, clap!"

Those who know Liu Tianxian should understand: her youth was a process of online abuse.

The audience immediately burst into applause and laughter—the students were still very supportive of her.

This also reflects her personal mindset; before this film, she was constantly criticized for having no acting ability, terrible acting.

Some liked her because of her good nature, and fell for her.

"Liu Yifei, you're so beautiful!"

Similar scenes played out in other dorms—some were gaming, some listening to novels, some chatting with girlfriends—all shut down computers, ended calls, and rushed out the moment they heard Liu Tianxian had arrived.

"When I saw audiences say I acted well, and that the movie was good, I was happy for days—I realized I could act, that I could make a good movie."

It's easy to imagine Liu Tianxian's high status in the hearts of these shut-ins.

Since her teens, she's been bullied online; even now, scattered individuals still spread rumors about her—even pornographic ones.

No one knows exactly how large Liu Tianxian's fanbase is now, but whenever she appears, countless people flock to her, regardless of gender or age.

"Alright, thank you."

"Hehehe!" The students laughed.

"Liu Yifei! Liu Yifei!"

"Hahahaha!"

Take today's popular idol stars—they're all trainees; what culture can you expect from them? The auditorium seats were noisy, the stage was being set up—tables and benches had been removed; Liu Tianxian would stand to speak.

"Don't be so perverted, okay!" Another companion misunderstood their meaning.

The bare-chested youth threw off his blanket, jumped up, grabbed a shirt, and ran out without even putting on pants—he was desperate.

And waved at them.

Pretending isn't a derogatory term—it's not about hurting others, but about learning to adjust your mindset even when facing people you dislike. Of course, being yourself is most important; only by being yourself can you truly stand independent in the world.

The scene was noisy but lively.

Liu Tianxian also has a significant following among women—fans who admire her selfhood, her detachment from the world, her lack of pretense.

The student called out stopped mid-jerk, hurriedly got out of bed, threw on clothes, and ran out, afraid he'd miss seeing Liu Tianxian.

Don't actively hurt others, but guard against them.

Though rumors said she was dating the Principal, the Principal has been in hiding for years—his news is rarely seen now.

"Fuck, what the hell are you thinking? Dirty!"

And "Those Years" gave her confidence.

For a while, I also loved reading these things, thought they made sense, and drowned myself in them to numb myself.

Seeing Liu Tianxian's beautiful, elegant presence, someone shouted.

Many students' gazes toward Liu Tianxian gradually changed—becoming focused, interested in what she was saying.

"Do successful people always stand like this?" Liu Tianxian held the microphone in one hand, the other in her pant pocket, posture casual.

Back then, I thought: I felt lucky, because I had nothing left to lose—worst case, I'd start over and keep trying.

"."

"Ms. Liu, you may go on stage." Someone called out. Fortunately, they were all girls—everyone was the same.

Not sure if she was good or not, but her soft, gentle voice was lovely to hear.

Of course, some saw her bad side and grew to dislike her.

Seeing how popular she was among students, Liu Tianxian felt deeply satisfied and accomplished.

The crowd was thick here—people walked while shouting, quickly reaching an auditorium, where teachers dispersed the students.

The audience burst into roaring laughter.

Liu Tianxian had done so much preparation, studied so many speeches—she must have something to her.

Liu Tianxian turned to look at the LED screen behind her, displaying her artistic portrait, and teased: "Heh, who's this? So pretentious."

Of course, most people didn't come to hear what Liu Tianxian had to say, but out of pure curiosity, drawn by her looks and her celebrity status.

But I entered this circle earlier than them, experienced its cruelty and malice earlier, and learned to guard myself and put on a mask.

If I speak well, you clap; if I speak poorly, pretend you didn't hear it and forget it.

The rating for Those Years is still holding at 8 out of 10 on Douban, solidly—Liu Tianxian's signature masterpiece!

After all, she's the white moonlight, the goddess sister, and now Liu Tianxian keeps releasing classic works; in the past couple of years, few have criticized her—far better than her past image.

If I didn't have dreams, I wouldn't be here today—this is my clear actor's dream, and it's also the greatest reason I can stay happy despite criticism.

When she appeared on stage, the crowd fell silent—they still respected her.

When Liu Tianxian said this, she was smiling.

The audience erupted again in "clap-clap-clap" applause, louder than before, the sound echoing endlessly through the auditorium.

Even in the girls' dormitory, the same thing happened—some girls who were showering forgot to put on their clothes when their roommates shouted "Liu Tianxian's here!" and ran out screaming, revealing sudden glimpses of skin.

Liu Tianxian saw the audience seats packed with heads, filled to capacity, many people holding phones up to photograph her.

The originally quiet and serious atmosphere became relaxed and lively thanks to Liu Tianxian's casual remark.

"When I acted in Those Years, it was the happiest time of my life, because I saw a group of peers full of dreams and energy—they burned brightly, glowed with passion, and were full of hope for the future, just as I once was."

Standing to speak actually lets you perform better—you're more relaxed, and if you stumble, you can take a few steps and think. That's why many people prefer to stand.

This is the accumulation of her work and personality over these many years.

Liu Tianxian had been chatting with the Principal of Peking University when she heard someone shout; she smiled and replied, "Hello, hello."

The seats inside were arranged in an arc, tiered in rows, capable of holding about two thousand people.

Then Liu Tianxian's tone grew heavy: "This film is about youth. Talking about youth is dangerous—it's easy to drown in soul-crushing platitudes, easy to drown in the words you hear from friends, TV, and the internet."

"Actually, before coming, I thought about what to speak about—I'm recognized for acting in youth films, specifically Those Years. It's my first film to be recognized and praised, and also my first film to score over 8."

Of course, the scale now isn't as big as before.

Her experience is certainly different from others—she endured online abuse while her peers were studying; it's not universal.

She had already moved behind the scenes long ago, so her image isn't that bad.

Instantly, more students from Peking University rushed to where Liu Tianxian was, and the crowd kept growing, surrounding her in three layers deep.

The students' expressions were serious, their eyes fixed on Liu Tianxian as she paced slowly on stage, feeling a faint sense of empathy.

Soul-crushing platitudes are fine to glance at, but don't consume too much—it's bad for you.

"I like it too," her companion replied.

In fact, they didn't expect Liu Tianxian to say anything constructive.

"."

The showering girls hurried back in, put on their clothes, and turned into beautiful young girls to go watch Liu Tianxian.

This is something ordinary people simply can't endure—from childhood, with an immature, pure, kind heart, she was cursed by countless people. How many little girls could bear that?

Seeing the lively atmosphere, Liu Tianxian grew more relaxed herself—facing these elite intellectuals, she was still somewhat nervous inside.

Liu Tianxian paused, her whole demeanor becoming relaxed, and the students below listened in silence.

Liu Tianxian's influence is still immense—many people came in groups, chatting and laughing, entering the auditorium.

Liu Tianxian's life experiences over these years have covered at least several decades' worth of others' lives—wildly turbulent.

After teasing, Liu Tianxian began her speech properly: "This is my first speech. There may be many shortcomings—please forgive me, fellow students."

This is a spirit—a spirit ahead of one's peers: to persist in one's dreams despite any hardship, and find joy in it—so this deserves applause.

Many who truly care about Liu Tianxian don't want her to date someone from the industry—they all know how dirty the industry is. The Principal is high enough in status and still so young.

Behind them, others jumped up and down, craning their necks just to catch a glimpse of their idol goddess.

Even the most devoted fans among university students know clearly that celebrities have low awareness—many never studied properly, their education level lower than theirs—what could they possibly say?

"Wow, even Liu Tianxian's hand is beautiful—long and slender, white and soft," someone remarked to their companion in the crowd.

She suffered her parents' divorce as a child, then moved with her mother to the United States to live under others' roofs; after returning home, she began acting in her teens.

After becoming an overnight sensation, she faced endless criticism and abuse—this was inevitable; no one wanted her blocking their path.

She wanted to carve out a path through singing, but wasn't professionally trained, and was caught in the era of the "War of the Gods"—how could singing possibly make a splash?

Now her singing is decent, but that era was terrifying.

(End of Chapter)