Chapter 7

“Hey? What’s up? Why are you calling me now?”

After pressing the answer button, Zhou Yi frowned: “Aren’t you supposed to be in class right now?”

“Just finished class, ran into something I can’t decide on—wanted to ask for your opinion.”

Cheng Hao’s clear voice came through the phone, her hesitant tone piquing Zhou Yi’s interest: “Something you, Cheng the beauty, can’t decide on? That’s rare—tell me.”

Ever since meeting Cheng Hao in 1998, he’d never seen this woman hesitate—not even when she emptied her savings to bet with him on the World Cup.

“I’m serious. Stop being flippant.”

The woman on the other end spoke seriously: “I’m about to graduate, and my teacher recommended I try joining the People’s Art Theatre—he said with my talent and ability, they’d likely take me.”

“That’s great—lifetime job, official position.”

“But only if I can get in—it’s the People’s Art Theatre.”

Hearing Zhou Yi’s casual, dismissive tone, Cheng Hao snapped back: “Not everyone’s as confident as you.”

“Just give it a shot—what do you have to lose?”

Zhou Yi shifted on the passenger seat to get more comfortable, then turned to watch the cityscape blur past the window and smiled.

If he remembered right, Cheng Hao did end up joining the People’s Art Theatre later—though she quit afterward.

“But there’s a problem: a TV drama director invited me to join, and the shooting schedule might be tight. If I take it, I don’t think I’ll have enough focus left for the People’s Art Theatre exam.”

“TV drama? Which one? Who’s in the cast? What’s the budget? If it’s good, push yourself.”

“It’s called ‘Li Wei as Official’—your least favorite Qing palace drama.”

“...Don’t dump that blame on me—I can’t carry that guilt.” Though not face-to-face, Zhou Yi still rolled his eyes at this.

He’d just joked once after getting close—how could she still remember it this long?

Cheng Hao laughed softly on the other end: “Then it’s up to your performance. By the way, how’s it going in Taiwan? Have you met Ren Xianqi? Guo Fucheng?”

“Nope. Didn’t see either.”

Zhou Yi flicked his nails and twisted his naturally flexible voice into a sarcastic tone: “I’m just a total nobody—how could I possibly meet big stars? Unlike you, you’re already a minor movie star.”

In 1998, after getting into Peking University, he came to the capital early and often wandered around art schools to look at girls and sing for cash, accidentally meeting Cheng Hao—who was then a sophomore at the Central Academy of Drama—and they gradually became close.

Though still a sophomore that year, Cheng Hao’s acting had already earned her teacher’s approval, and amid jealous whispers that she’d “gotten lucky,” she landed her film debut in “That Man, That Mountain, That Dog.”

Though her role was small, it was still a film—and her character was memorable.

Among the hundreds of graduates from the Central Academy of Drama each year, very few ever land roles in theatrical films, let alone a sophomore like Cheng Hao at the time.

Everyone in the entertainment industry knows: fame must come early.

Thanks to her outstanding performance in “That Man, That Mountain, That Dog,” Cheng Hao received multiple offers in 1999—including “The Heroic Lü Buwei,” starring Zhang Tielin and Ning Jing, and “Desire Blockade,” with Wang Xuebin as the lead.

What surprised Zhou Yi was that Cheng Hao turned them all down.

In his memory, she’d accepted both “Lü Buwei” and “Desire Blockade”—but she’d actually refused both, telling the directors she needed to focus on her studies and felt her acting wasn’t good enough yet...

That was ridiculous.

He’d never seen Cheng Hao study obsessively; she always had time to watch his money-making performances.

Once, over grilled skewers, he asked her why—she replied that filming both at once would be too tight, and taking just one would offend the other director, since both productions had plenty of petty people; so she chose to decline both.

In her words, she’d already made a fortune betting with Zhou Yi during the World Cup—enough to cover her father’s medicine and treatment—so there was no need to push herself so hard; better to stay in school and enrich herself.

“If only I were a movie star,” Cheng Hao said, unfazed by Zhou Yi’s sarcasm, her voice tinged with quiet regret. “But no good film scripts have ever come my way.”

“Then stop waiting—you act like even dogs would shake their heads. I doubt you’ll ever get a movie role in this lifetime.”

“...If you’re so capable, stay in Taiwan and don’t come back. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten—you have final exams next month, right?”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

Zhou Yi tapped his fingers along the edge of the car window: “Alright, I’ve got things to do—I’m moving soon. I’ll hang up.”

“As for that drama—squeeze the time. Shoot faster, and you’ll have time to prepare for the People’s Art Theatre.”

Zhou Yi, who never chose between options, gave her the “both” solution, then hung up.

Beijing, Central Academy of Drama campus.

A bright-eyed woman sitting on the grassy field glanced at her phone screen, now lit up after the call ended, and a faint smile touched her oval face.

She swiftly dialed her teacher’s number from her contacts: “Hello, Teacher? I’ve decided—I’ll focus entirely on the People’s Art Theatre. I won’t take the role in ‘Li Wei as Official.’”

“Are you sure, Cheng Hao? This is the original cast of ‘The Emperor in Han Dynasty.’ This opportunity is rare.”

“Teacher, you know me—I don’t have big ambitions. I just want to act quietly. The People’s Art Theatre suits me better.”

“...”

After a brief exchange, Cheng Hao hung up, pushed herself up from the grass with one hand—

She brushed the grass clippings off her floral dress, then looked up at the blue sky, her lively eyes filled with quiet, unspoken joy.

Soon after, Zhou Yi, already in the middle of moving, received a text: 【I’ve decided to focus on the People’s Art Theatre first. Thanks.】

“...”

Zhou Yi pried at his tooth with his tongue, his expression odd, unsure what to say.

Wasn’t “Li Wei as Official” the one starring Xu Zheng?

To be fair, that drama had some popularity.

Could this girl end up stuck in the People’s Art Theatre doing nothing but theater from now on?