Chapter 31

Jiang Qin just opened the dorm door when she heard Chen Shasha wailing inside:

“I’m such a fool, really.

I knew Wu Yuchen was a freshman, but I had no idea he was this talented!

Why on earth did I slack off during that audition?”

Seeing Chen Shasha’s regretful, Xianglin-sao-like expression, Jiang Qin couldn’t help but find it funny.

At the same time, hearing her heap praise on Wu Yuchen, Jiang Qin felt an inexplicable sense of pride—happier than if the praise had been aimed at herself.

When Chen Shasha noticed Jiang Qin enter, she didn’t hesitate, immediately wrapping her arm around Jiang Qin’s and pouting:

“Qin Qin, you’ve been hiding this from us! You shot such a great film and still claimed you didn’t know how?”

“I’m just a minor actress—how was I supposed to know?”

“Qin Qin, I’m so jealous of you~”

As she spoke, Chen Shasha’s eyes darted, and she pulled Jiang Qin’s arm, pleading:

“You said you hated Wu Yuchen, that you’d never work with him again—right?

Could you introduce me next time?”

Jiang Qin suddenly felt a pang of alarm, as if Chen Shasha were trying to steal her treasure, and denied it outright: “When did I ever say that?”

Yin Qiaoqiao chimed in at the right moment:

“Didn’t you just say he was arrogant and annoying, and you never wanted to see him again?”

Jiang Qin’s eyes flickered as she defended herself:

“No way! What I meant was…

He’s strict on set, decisive, holds to his principles, and won’t be swayed by outside influence!”

“Oh my, Qin Qin, when did you learn to change faces like a Sichuan opera performer?” Yin Qiaoqiao teased.

Jiang Qin flushed, abruptly let go of Chen Shasha’s arm, and turned away:

“I’m not talking to you anymore—I’m going to get water~”

Watching Jiang Qin’s back, Chen Shasha sighed, but then thought: maybe even if she’d auditioned, she still wouldn’t have outshone Qin Qin—this eased her regret somewhat.

Beside her, Yin Qiaoqiao’s smile faded, replaced by a twinge of jealousy—how could Jiang Qin always land the good fortune? Even this pitiful three-thousand-yuan project turned into such a brilliant short film!

But it didn’t matter much—short films couldn’t be screened publicly anyway; at best, she’d gain a little fame on campus. Thinking this, Yin Qiaoqiao felt a bit better.

She also thought of Wu Yuchen—this junior clearly had talent. His poise on stage, his confident, articulate speech, his lack of stage fright—all showed real ability. She should cultivate a better relationship with him going forward.

With this thought, Yin Qiaoqiao moved Wu Yuchen up a notch in her mental ranking.

That night, Jiang Qin lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep—her mind filled entirely with Wu Yuchen.

From the moment she led him astray at first, to his sudden reappearance half a year later, to her becoming his leading actress, the misunderstandings during filming, to today’s wildly successful screening—it all felt like a dream.

Even recalling how he accidentally tore her collar, she now found it sweet.

Is this fate?

Lying there, Jiang Qin could clearly hear her heartbeat quicken; touching her burning cheeks, she suddenly understood her own heart.

But I treated him so badly, gave him cold shoulders—would he like me?

Would he think I have a terrible temper?

Would he think I’m capricious?

Would he think I’m immature?

Instantly, Jiang Qin’s heart plunged into doubt and anxiety; she felt like punching her past self.

After who knew how long, Jiang Qin, still unable to sleep, let out a breath.

Tomorrow, after the wrap party tomorrow, I’ll go find him, clear up everything between us, find him…

No, no—I’m a girl, I must be reserved. Who ever hears of a girl confessing to a boy?

Though Jiang Qin was a fiery girl from Shancheng, the thought of taking the initiative made her blush and her heart pound wildly—she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Jiang Qin lay awake, not falling asleep until who knew what time in the early morning…

The next morning, after breakfast, Wu Yuchen went straight to his homeroom teacher, Xie Xiaojing.

Not in her office, but at her home.

After all, even teachers need rest on weekends—Jingying’s faculty compound was right behind the school, easy to reach.

Seeing Wu Yuchen arrive with two bags of fruit, Xie Xiaojing smiled, half-teasing:

“I just asked you to come chat—why bring fruit? You’re a broke student.”

“Teacher Xie, these fruits cost nothing. I’m just grateful for all your care since I enrolled.”

Wu Yuchen set down the fruit and sat on the living room sofa.

From his performance yesterday, Xie Xiaojing knew Wu Yuchen wasn’t an ordinary student—he was mature, steady, and confident, so he no longer treated him like a typical freshman.

Wu Yuchen accepted a cup of tea from Teacher Xie’s wife, thanked her, then listened as Xie Xiaojing said:

“Today I just want to talk—what are your plans for the future?”

From what he’d learned of Wu Yuchen’s filmmaking journey, he was no impulsive fool—everything was carefully planned, which was why his project moved so smoothly. Someone like him likely had clear ambitions.

“Heh, Teacher Xie, I’m definitely going to become a director.

I’ll study hard, but I hope the school will be flexible if I want to shoot new projects.”

“Good kid—you just finished a short film and you’re already planning the next one?”

“Not yet, not yet—I’m just laying the groundwork.”

Wu Yuchen said quickly—not because he had no ideas, but because he had no money.

Xie Xiaojing exhaled in relief—he’d feared the student would immediately launch another wild project.

“The faculty already knows you now, so don’t slack off. But if you truly have a good idea later, the school won’t stand in your way.”

Wu Yuchen smiled immediately—he knew this was approval. As long as his grades didn’t collapse too badly, the school would turn a blind eye.

“Thank you, Teacher. I have one more small request—if I ever shoot a proper feature film, can I list it under the Youth Film Studio?”

To shoot a film now, you needed official shooting credentials. The only one Wu Yuchen could rely on was Jingying’s Youth Film Studio.

Xie Xiaojing understood his implication—he planned to shoot a feature before graduation.

He smiled: “If your script is good and you can raise the funds yourself, you can use the Youth Film Studio’s name.”

“Thank you so much, Teacher!”

Wu Yuchen was overjoyed—calling these teachers to watch the short film yesterday was absolutely right. Now he was officially recognized by the school—he’d gained privileges and advantages.

One part of making a feature film was solved. The other part…

Wu Yuchen thought for a moment, then decided to be honest with Teacher Xie:

“Teacher Xie, about ‘Car 44,’ I have some other ideas.”

“Oh?”