Chapter 84: The Start of Term

The next morning, Tu Honggang limped out of the station, clutching his waist—not injured, but anyone would suffer after squatting all night.

He stretched his legs for a while before finally recovering, then pulled out his phone and called Wu Yuchen; after a long pause, the other end picked up:

“Hey, Brother Tu, you okay?”

“Fine, fine—I’ve trained for this. A few little bastards? Easy pickings!”

Tu Honggang spoke with bravado, then quickly added:

“Brother, I haven’t asked you yet—can you drive?”

Wu Yuchen understood his intent immediately:

“Yes, the car’s fine, parked right downstairs. Want me to bring it over now?”

“No rush, no rush—just bring it over when you’ve got time these next two days.”

Tu Honggang sighed in relief upon hearing the car was unharmed—he’d just bought it, brand-new and gleaming, and he cherished it dearly!

On the other end, Wu Yuchen hadn’t even turned around after hanging up when a sultry figure pressed against his back, skin smooth and snowy.

Li Xiaoran wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder: “How’s Brother Tu?”

“He’s fine—you heard his voice, right? Full of vigor.” Wu Yuchen set his phone aside and kissed the beautiful face pressed against his ear.

Li Xiaoran giggled, kissed him back, then bit his earlobe:

“Me or her—who’s better?”

Wu Yuchen knew exactly who she meant, but in front of Li Xiaoran, he wasn’t stupid:

“You!”

“Then who do you want?”

Li Xiaoran asked outright—she’d always been blunt.

Wu Yuchen dared not answer lightly; he thought for a moment, then had a flash of inspiration and countered:

“Say, between Lin Yueru and Zhao Ling’er—who do you pick?”

He knew she loved both equally and couldn’t choose either.

Li Xiaoran pouted and slapped him, giving him a withering look: “Are you treating this like a game?”

“I just love playing games with you~”

Wu Yuchen rolled over and sealed her lips again.

Moments later, the old bed creaked again with a groaning rhythm.

After a long while, the room fell quiet once more.

Li Xiaoran lay sprawled across Wu Yuchen’s chest, revealing a vast expanse of snowy skin; after catching her breath, she pinched him, eyes glistening:

“Are you a donkey? Don’t you ever get tired?”

“Sis, you know I’m a snake.” Wu Yuchen grinned.

Li Xiaoran knew—he meant more than that. After a beat, she kicked him lightly and scolded:

“You shameless brat~”

At that moment, someone’s stomach growled. Wu Yuchen immediately sat up: “I’ll cook.”

Li Xiaoran watched Wu Yuchen’s tall back, snorted softly, thinking: This kid’s gotten bold, his heart’s gone wild—he wants it all? I’ll pry him loose eventually!

But for this little brother she’d grown up with, she felt a touch of sisterly tolerance—he still had childlike innocence, and she didn’t want to push too hard. After all these years, could he possibly escape her palm?

Wu Yuchen hummed a tune as he cooked, unaware of how Tu Honggang was doing—but he himself felt refreshed. After all, Li Xiaoran was a dancer. And with that figure? Absolutely top-tier, top-tier, top-tier!

Meanwhile, a screening at China Film had just ended—it was none other than *The Night the Comet Came*.

Though China Film wasn’t yet the behemoth it would become years later, it was still the only distributor with nationwide reach; its head wasn’t Han Sanping—he was still the head of Beijing Film Studio.

Wu Yuchen had contacted China Film back in July, but after a month of delays, the screening for *The Night the Comet Came* finally took place in August.

“What do you all think? Interested?”

These people had spent years in film—they weren’t incapable of understanding.

“Hard to say. It’s hard to grasp.”

“This film’s strange—there’s never been anything like it domestically!”

“It doesn’t feel like a Chinese film—it feels copied from the West, with some novel theories thrown in. I found it interesting, at least the suspense was well done.”

“I think it’s fresh too, but I worry audiences won’t accept something this new.”

“I think we should try—it’s all detective stories now. Everyone’s sick of them!”

Chinese suspense films had once been glorious. The 1980 film *Case 405* was China’s first detective movie; upon release, it caused a sensation, earning over 100 million yuan in box office and becoming the year’s top-grossing film, eventually drawing over 100 million viewers total.

In the 1980s, numerous bold, high-quality horror-suspense films emerged, like Li ShaoHong’s *Silver Snake Murders*, one of the year’s biggest hits and the record-holder for most prints released by Beijing Film Studio.

But by the 1990s, as censorship tightened and domestic suspense films became trapped in detective tropes, audiences grew fatigued, and the genre’s path narrowed.

Thus, *The Night the Comet Came*, a completely new type of suspense film unlike anything on the market, truly lit up these people’s eyes.

But they had many concerns—worried the market wouldn’t accept it, that viewers with low education might not understand it.

At that moment, the Shanghai distributor raised his hand: “I’ll take ten prints!”

At the time, China Film’s distribution rights were still divided by province and city, then further down to local theater chains.

Everyone turned to him: “Old Feng, you sure? Afraid of getting stuck with it?”

Each print cost at least 8,000 yuan—he’d have to pay from his own budget; if no one watched, it’d be a total loss.

Old Feng grinned: “Heh, won’t lose money. This film’s got a hook—I’ll prominently label it ‘China’s 18-year-old Berlin Golden Bear-winning director’ and ‘Best Film at Sydney Film Festival.’ Won’t that draw attention?”

“But his short film Golden Bear isn’t enough weight—and Sydney Film Festival? I’ve never even heard of it, let alone the audience!”

“Isn’t a Golden Bear still a Golden Bear?”

Besides, how many moviegoers even know these awards?

You don’t care if it’s Berlin or Sydney—both are international metropolises. Just slap ‘international award winner’ on it, add sci-fi promotion, and they’ll think it’s awesome. Shanghai audiences eat this stuff up. Ten prints? No way you’ll lose!”

Everyone nodded—it made sense. This wasn’t false advertising; audiences didn’t know, so it wasn’t their fault.

“Then I’ll take five.”

“I’ll take three—test the waters first.”

…

“Seventy prints!” Wu Yuchen heard the number from China Film and was genuinely surprised.

Honestly, he hadn’t expected much from *The Night the Comet Came*’s domestic box office—he’d already made a fortune selling overseas rights and didn’t count on making much at home. He’d thought ten or twenty prints in northern China would be a win—far exceeding his expectations.

“Yes, Director Wu, your film won awards abroad, and it’s sci-fi—a fresh thing. Definitely worth watching. Director Wu, what’s your take on film distribution?”

Wu Yuchen paused, then said:

“I suggest placing more prints in theaters near schools, especially universities—they’re the ideal audience. College is about to start.”

“Hmm, you’re right. We’ll consider it.”

After hanging up, Wu Yuchen felt a flicker of anticipation—he couldn’t control distribution anymore, but things seemed promising.

Seventy prints was no small number. Back then, film distribution and screening were nothing like today’s standards—unless it was a Cheng Long movie, large-scale release was impossible.

Films first screened in provincial capitals, then trickled down to suburbs and lower-tier cities. But if the first round went well, theaters would immediately demand more prints.

Shanghai, with its developed economy and many universities, could easily handle ten prints.

Also, in 1996, China’s total box office was twice that of 2000—the audience hadn’t yet hit the post-millennium low.

Wu Yuchen and Li Xiaoran doted on each other in her home for several days until, reluctantly, he left for school.

At Beijing Railway Station, crowds surged. Ceng Li carried her suitcase to the bus stop.

Though 1996’s station wasn’t as packed as decades later, the start-of-term rush still drew many.

She’d just stepped onto the platform when her suitcase suddenly felt lighter—she thought a thief had grabbed it and instinctively tightened her grip; thieves were common at stations back then.

But when she turned, a tall, handsome figure stood beside her, holding her suitcase with a bright smile—it was Wu Yuchen.

“How did you find me?” Ceng Li asked, surprised.

“Your sister told me.” Wu Yuchen grinned.

He’d called her home several times, and her younger sister Ceng Yu had answered—he’d charmed her into giving him the info.

“Come on, I’ll drive you. Look at this crowd—you’ll wait forever for a bus.”

Wu Yuchen picked up her suitcase and walked off. Ceng Li grumbled inwardly about her sister’s big mouth but followed behind.

Moments later, Wu Yuchen brought Ceng Li to a car parked by the street and loaded her things in.

As he loaded them, he said: “BJ212 Jeep—Chairman Mao rode one of these twenty years ago. I just bought it. Technically, it belongs to the company.”

Ceng Li merely studied it, saying little.

Wu Yuchen noticed—since their meeting, Ceng Li had grown colder, likely trying to keep distance.

But he didn’t mind—he’d expected it. After getting in the car, he kept talking:

“I made a low-budget film, earned some money, and started a company—Miracle Pictures. Figured I couldn’t keep borrowing cameras and cars for future films, so I just bought them all—car just came in two days ago, perfect timing to pick you up.”

Ceng Li listened quietly to Wu Yuchen’s chatter, her heart tangled.

At home, she’d told herself repeatedly to draw a line, keep distance, start fresh in Beijing.

When *Sword of Light* became a hit, news reached her hometown. One day, she returned to find her copy of *Sword of Light* gone from her bedside—she panicked, then discovered her sister Ceng Yu had taken it. She nearly fought with her, but at that moment, she realized she still couldn’t forget him—so she comforted herself: we’ll just be friends.

But now, seeing Wu Yuchen, her heart still raced, still ached, still betrayed her by following him—listening to him speak of his travels abroad, his film experiences, how thrilled his father had been after *Sword of Light*’s success…

Wu Yuchen didn’t drive into the Central Academy of Drama—he stopped across the street, unloaded her things, and asked softly: “Can I walk you over?”

Ceng Li looked at Wu Yuchen, saw his cautious expression, and her heart softened—friends walking together couldn’t hurt. She nodded.

Wu Yuchen beamed, picked up her things, and led her across the street.

In the girls’ dorm, Zhang Ziyi was chatting with her new acquaintance Qin Hailu. When they saw a beautiful girl enter, Zhang Ziyi immediately bounced over to greet her:

“Hi, I’m Zhang Ziyi. You’re Ceng Li, right? I remembered you from the third audition—you’re gorgeous!”

"Hello, I’m Ceng Li~"

Zhang Ziyi, possessing the typical Beijing trait of easy familiarity, was about to say more to Ceng Li when another tall, handsome boy walked in, carrying a suitcase behind her; he nodded and smiled at her:

"Hello."

Upon seeing Wu Yuchen, Zhang Ziyi and Qin Hailu immediately fell silent, offering only polite smiles.

After setting down his suitcase, Wu Yuchen said to Ceng Li: "Li Zi, I’ll head off now. If you need anything, call me. If you’re unsure about anyone on campus, you can also ask Duan Long."

Seeing Ceng Li nod, he then turned and smiled politely at Zhang Ziyi and Qin Hailu:

"Carry on, goodbye~"

As soon as Wu Yuchen left, Zhang Ziyi hurried to the door and peered out; once she saw him go downstairs, she ran back to Ceng Li’s side, grabbing her hand excitedly:

"Ceng Li, your boyfriend is so handsome!"

Qin Hailu leaned over too: "Ceng Li, you’re the first in our dorm with a boyfriend—tell us all about him!"

Ceng Li blinked in surprise, then explained: "He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just ordinary friends."

Zhang Ziyi instantly replied: "You’re still denying it! I clearly remember during the third audition—he held your IV bag the whole time. Would an ordinary friend do that for you?"

Qin Hailu had taken her exam in Bincheng, so she didn’t know; at this, her eyes lit up with gossip: "What happened? Tell me right away!"

Zhang Ziyi immediately chattered through every detail of the audition scene; the two girls laughed as they glanced at Ceng Li, their expressions clearly saying, “You’re still hiding something,” leaving Ceng Li feeling deeply exasperated.

…

Wu Yuchen’s mood was excellent—a great start; keep pushing forward!

But instead of returning to Jingying, he drove straight back to the train station.

An hour later, at the station exit, Jiang Qinqin walked out with a bag; beside her, a boy chattered nonstop, making her impatient.

But the moment she spotted Wu Yuchen standing nearby, her face lit up with a smile; she dashed over, dropped her suitcase, and threw herself into his arms.

The boy who had been clinging to her stood frozen; when he saw the two kiss openly, heedless of shame, his heart sank completely. His back slumped, and he left in dejection.

Wu Yuchen picked up Jiang Qinqin’s suitcase and asked with a smile: "Who was that just now?"

Jiang Qinqin grinned: "Just some guy sitting across from me on the train—he talked nonstop the whole way, like a little loudspeaker!"

"Looks like our Qinqin’s charm hasn’t faded!" Wu Yuchen lightly tapped her nose with his finger.

"I don’t care!" Jiang Qinqin tossed her chin up proudly, then linked her arm through Wu Yuchen’s.

"Hey, you bought a car!"

"Yeah, surprise?"

"I remember seeing this exact Jeep on TV during patrols!"

"Right, it used to be military. Now it’s common for civilians."

Jiang Qinqin chattered nonstop all the way about the funny things at home, her mouth never stopping—completely unaware she’d become a little loudspeaker herself.

Wu Yuchen no longer held back; he drove straight into Jingying. This wasn’t some luxury car—it was just a ten-thousand-yuan domestic Beijing Jeep, nothing to show off.

After dropping off Jiang Qinqin, Wu Yuchen returned to his dorm to find Chen Er approaching, grinning:

"Big Brother Chen, I just saw a new student arrive at the dorm—with seven parents!"

Wu Yuchen raised an eyebrow and asked:

"From the acting class?"

"Yeah, that room over there."

Wu Yuchen walked toward the direction Chen Er pointed; he was curious—this mama’s boy might be some future star.

As he reached the door, he heard a middle-aged woman’s voice inside:

"Can you even live here? Just wooden boards and a metal frame. Look, no air conditioner, not even a fan. And opposite this room is the toilet—how could you stand the stench all day? Can’t we get Xiao Ming transferred?"

Got it—Wu Yuchen didn’t need to look; he knew exactly who it was: Huang Jiaojiao!

"Exactly," another middle-aged woman chimed in. "Xiao Ming, why not go back to Daoshan and find a job? Isn’t that better than suffering here?"

Wu Yuchen peered sideways inside and saw Huang Xiao Ming in a white T-shirt and jeans, looking annoyed. He stomped his foot and pushed the middle-aged couple away in Shandong dialect:

"Mom, stop it! Everyone’s gonna laugh at me—just go already!"

"Why the rush? Look at how messy your room is—don’t you want me to clean it up?"

Huang Xiao Ming was about to reply when he spotted Wu Yuchen peering in at the door. Thinking he was a new roommate, he instantly switched to a bright, pure smile—no trace of pretense.

Wu Yuchen nodded and smiled back, then turned and walked back to his dorm. Interesting—he hadn’t expected Huang Xiao Ming to be such a mama’s boy desperate to escape his family’s control.

Wu Yuchen stroked his chin as he walked. He’d met most of the 1996 class at Central Drama Academy months ago during the third audition, but he hadn’t yet seen much of the equally famous 1996 class at Jingying. Should he go take a look at what these future stars looked like on their first day?