Chapter 1

In October, the last remnants of Beijing’s autumn heat still lingered; a gentle breeze rustled the leaves, now slightly yellowed.

On the campus of Beijing Film Academy, three young men walked side by side, still wearing short sleeves, radiating youthful energy.

On the left was a stout, heavyset fatso, his round belly straining his T-shirt; though he had black hair and black eyes, a closer look revealed he was a foreigner.

On the right was a skinny stick of a guy, with a buzz cut and glasses, his features ordinary.

The middle youth, strikingly handsome, was Wu Yuchen, a first-year freshman in the Directing Department this year, his face beaming with joy.

How could he not be happy, having been reborn back to 1995, just as he entered college, after having been an average director in his past life?!

“Hurry up, we’re going to be late!” the skinny guy checked his watch and urged.

“Chen Er, don’t be so rushed!” the foreign fatso wiped sweat from his forehead.

“Old Wu, you’re built like a bear—now that we’re in Beijing, can you at least speak like a real man?”

Wu Yuchen laughed and patted the fatso’s belly.

“Wu Yuchen, you’re so annoying!” the foreigner retorted in Taiwanese accent.

“I feel like you two are Fat and Thin Head Tuo escorting me back to Divine Dragon Island,” Wu Yuchen teased.

“If we’re Fat and Thin Head Tuo, then aren’t you Wei Xiaobao?”

Back then, boys still idolized heroes like Qiao Feng and Guo Jing; compared to them, Wei Xiaobao seemed sly and unseemly.

“What’s wrong with Wei Xiaobao? Seven wives—total bliss!”

“Besides, I’m way hotter than Wei Xiaobao!” Wu Yuchen smirked slightly.

The skinny guy sized up Wu Yuchen—sharp eyebrows, bright eyes like stars, over 1.8 meters tall, towering over the other two.

Though he knew Wu Yuchen was handsome—even obliterating all the male acting students this year—he still couldn’t resist: “Old Wu, what’s the word for self-obsession?”

“Arrogant!” the foreign fatso chimed in perfectly in Taiwanese accent.

Wu Yuchen burst out laughing, then glanced at the Fat and Thin Head Tuo duo beside him—he never expected that in this rebirth, these two figures from his past life’s industry would become his roommates.

Fat Head Tuo was a mixed-race American, born in Hewanwan, Chinese name Wu Shixian, who claimed descent from the Warring States general Wu Zixu.

He had previously studied Film Arts at the University of Washington in the U.S., transferred to Beijing Film Academy’s Directing Department this year as a junior, and voluntarily moved out of the international student dorm to share a room with first-years—just for the fun of it!

Oh, in his past life, he’d directed a fairly well-known film, *Waiting Alone*, starring Xia Yu and Li Lianjie, which was wildly popular among young people back then.

Wu Yuchen remembered how, in later interviews, this guy spoke flawless Beijing dialect—but now, his first words were thick with Taiwanese accent.

As for the skinny Head Tuo on Wu Yuchen’s right, his name was Chen Er, whose past-life masterpieces were *The Death of Romanic* and *Borderlands*. Commercially perhaps not a hit, but a director with an extremely strong personal style and clear vision.

Though Wu Yuchen was a reborn soul, he didn’t feel he was superior to them.

On the contrary, he’d spent half his past life in the industry and knew exactly his own worth.

In terms of shooting technique and craft, he was certainly a competent professional—but when it came to talent and inspiration, he likely couldn’t match this Fat and Thin Head Tuo duo.

For a director, lacking inspiration and personal vision meant you were destined to remain mediocre.

So in his past life, he’d long since abandoned the dream of becoming a famous master director, content to earn his keep through sheer craftsmanship.

He never imagined heaven would give him a second chance!

If he couldn’t be Zhou Jielun, couldn’t he at least be Xiaoluo?

With decades of future memories and all those unreleased films and TV dramas at his disposal, if he still couldn’t fulfill his past-life wish this time around, he might as well have never lived!

This time, Wu Yuchen wasn’t bringing the Fat and Thin Head Tuo duo to Divine Dragon Island—he was going to intercept someone.

He was going to intercept an international master director’s first pot of gold!

…

In 1995, when traffic was still slow and the internet didn’t exist, you couldn’t download movies online, search for film info at will, or log onto forums to read others’ opinions.

Back then, people exchanged films with each other, watched them together, then gathered to discuss them.

At Beijing Film Academy, there was a film interest group called the Youth Film Experimental Group.

Originally formed to exchange VHS tapes, it soon evolved into organized screenings followed by discussions, eventually becoming a fixed interest group.

Last month, after watching a domestic film, the group erupted in fury.

Terrible! Absolutely terrible!

After venting their rage, the group conceived an idea: they should try making their own short film!

Among the twenty-odd members were literature majors, photography majors, fine arts majors, and sound recording majors—they already had a complete film crew.

So the more they talked, the more excited they got, and finally decided that within one month, anyone with an idea could submit a script; the best script would be filmed.

Today was the day the Youth Film Experimental Group would evaluate the scripts.

More than twenty people sat in the classroom, quietly listening as someone read aloud on stage.

On stage stood a plain-dressed, earnest-looking man, reading his script in standard Mandarin with a Jinxi accent.

Below, Wu Yuchen silently marveled: true masters always had real skill.

The man before him was none other than Jia Zhangke, later known in the industry as “Director Jia.”

Many thought his first film was *Xiao Wu*, but that was merely his first feature-length film.

Old Jia’s true first short film was the one he was now reading: *Xiao Shan Goes Home*.

To Wu Yuchen, the script of *Xiao Shan Goes Home* was plain, lacking dramatic conflict—but in Jia Zhangke’s hands, it unfolded with a quiet, unique charm.

A migrant worker yearning to return home but unable to, a stranger lost in the city—his presence seemed to leap vividly into your mind; the despair, the confusion, the suppressed rage that could never be spoken—every emotion was palpable.

No wonder this Director Jia could publish stories in *Jinxi Literature* as a middle schooler and now earn two thousand yuan a month just by writing!

This was Jia Zhangke’s birthplace: through this Youth Film Experimental Group, he built his crew, raised over twenty thousand yuan through collective funding, and shot the 57-minute short *Xiao Shan Goes Home*.

Then, with *Xiao Shan Goes Home*, Jia Zhangke won the Golden Award for Narrative Film at the Hong Kong Independent Short Film and Video Competition, earned fifty thousand yuan in prize money, and met the investor for *Xiao Wu*—and soared.

Without this experimental group, without those twenty thousand yuan in pooled funds, there would have been no Director Jia!

But now, that money belongs to Wu.