Chapter Thirty-Nine: Becoming the Most Unique Student in the Directing Department

(As the shadowy car pulled up, I took one look and thought, “Oh my, this is it—I’m about to hit the big time!” Let me post a chapter now; there’s more coming later. Today I’m throwing caution to the wind, just like Wang Feng—I’m getting on the front page!)

“The school has made a decision. They’re preparing to give you a special admission into the directing department. I’m here today to ask for your thoughts. So, what do you—”

As soon as Huang Sanshi began to speak, Wu Xiang was stunned. This was incredible news—the opportunity of a lifetime!

“Yes! Absolutely! Anything at all!” Wu Xiang didn’t even wait for him to finish before nodding enthusiastically in agreement.

“I haven’t finished yet!” Huang Sanshi couldn’t help but laugh at Wu Xiang’s eagerness.

The reason Huang Sanshi, the head teacher of the acting class, was sent to talk to Wu Xiang was simply to sound him out, to see if the boy was interested. If his own class advisor had come, it would have seemed too official, and if a professor from the directing department had approached him and he refused, it might have been embarrassing for them.

Luckily, the boy agreed so readily, but there were still things that needed to be clarified. Huang Sanshi continued, “You see, this is a special admission. You’ll be considered an undergraduate from this semester onward, which means your studies will be a bit unconventional—are you okay with that?”

“Of course! Hahaha!” Wu Xiang didn’t care about anything else; he’d accept any terms.

Seeing Wu Xiang’s beaming expression, Huang Sanshi felt a twinge of discomfort. Originally, they’d planned to give the kid a combined bachelor’s and master’s program, but the school wouldn’t budge. The professors had argued about it, but the school’s reasoning was sound—there was no precedent.

“I haven’t finished, so save your excitement until I’m done,” Teacher Huang said sternly.

“Go ahead, I’ll accept whatever you say. No matter the terms, it’s fine by me!” Wu Xiang was all in. Getting into the directing department of the film academy was his dream, and now that the opportunity was here, nothing could deter him. That’s the power of dreams.

“Alright! Since you’re so eager, just get ready to pay your tuition. Someone else will explain the rest to you shortly.” A suppressed smile tugged at Teacher Huang’s lips as he finished, and then he left for the academic office.

“Someone else?” Wu Xiang picked up on the key detail. Who could it be?

At that moment, an unassuming elderly man with white hair entered the room. Wu Xiang studied him carefully—he looked like any ordinary old man, though there was something familiar about him. He just couldn’t quite place it.

The old man was friendly and informal, introducing himself right away, “Wu Xiang, hello, ha ha! My name is Han Xiaolei, and from now on, I’ll be your teacher.”

Han Xiaolei?

Wu Xiang felt like he’d heard the name somewhere before. Of course, if he’d really done his homework on the film academy, as he’d boasted to Chen Kun, he’d know exactly who this old man was. But that had just been bravado. Still, now he remembered where he’d seen him.

“Hello, teacher. I saw you before at the premiere of ‘The Great Flood.’ At the time, I was a bit overwhelmed and forgot to ask for your guidance.” Wu Xiang really did have a way with words.

“Hahaha…” Teacher Han Xiaolei laughed heartily. “You don’t need to put on an act with me. What I value is your talent. You don’t have to flatter me. Even if we get along well, if you don’t complete my assignments properly, I won’t go easy on you. You could fail the course and not graduate, you know. Don’t blame me when that happens.”

Clearly, the old man was experienced, and Wu Xiang’s little tricks were useless. Switching to a serious tone, Wu Xiang said, “Yes, Teacher Han. I’ll do whatever you say, no questions asked. If you tell me to go east, I won’t go west. If you tell me to catch a dog, I won’t chase a chicken. Is that good enough?”

“Hahaha! You really don’t act like some hotshot young director at all!” Han Xiaolei was genuinely amused.

The media had started calling Wu Xiang an “up-and-coming director,” and a slew of reporters wanted to interview him. But he’d turned them down, saying he needed to focus on his studies. It was both an excuse and the truth—if he spent all day talking to reporters, how could he learn anything? That would defeat the very reason he’d entered the film academy.

“I was never one to begin with,” Wu Xiang replied modestly, well aware of his place. The film’s box office success didn’t make him a genius—he’d simply made the right movie at the right time, nothing more.

“Not bad. You know how to keep your head down. I wasn’t wrong about you,” Teacher Han said, satisfied. He continued, “Your situation is unique. You can’t neglect your classes with the literature department, and I know you’re still directing…”

“What?” Wu Xiang interrupted, surprised. How did the old man know that?

Teacher Han’s expression grew stern. “Don’t worry about how I know. If you want to direct, that’s your business. I won’t interfere or hold you back. You’re already an unusual student, so our teaching methods will be special too. Here, take this. Go home and study it carefully, and come see me again when you’re done. Just ask around in the directing department if you need to find me. And don’t think you can slack off—I’ll be giving you an exam.”

Teacher Han handed him a sheet of paper, and Wu Xiang took it, muttering under his breath, “An exam?” But a quick glance told him everything.

“On Montage,” “Film Shot Design,” “Aesthetics of the Long Take”—it was a reading list. Han Xiaolei expected him to study on his own.

“That’s… that’s it?” Wu Xiang quickly understood. This teaching method was truly novel—the teacher wouldn’t teach the student directly but would let him study on his own, like tending sheep. Was the old man really so confident in him?

“What’s wrong? I’m doing this for your own good. Plenty of students would love to learn this way, and you’re not happy?” Han Xiaolei’s face was all amusement.

Wu Xiang felt a bit frustrated. The method sounded good, but “I just feel bad about my tuition.”

“Hahaha… cough, cough…” Teacher Han laughed so hard he started coughing. “Your tuition isn’t wasted. Most of the books on that list you won’t even have to buy yourself. Satisfied now?”

“No, no…” Hearing himself called “sir,” Wu Xiang was immediately embarrassed. “I’m satisfied. Very satisfied. Hehehe…”

And so their teacher-student relationship was settled. Though the tuition was a bit steep, he was still getting a good deal. At the very least, when he graduated he’d have a double degree—something quite rare these days. That’s a real professional pedigree.

Before leaving, Han Xiaolei left Wu Xiang with a final word of advice: “Don’t forget to read those books. You’ve got tricks and ideas, and you’ve directed a film, but you lack a theoretical foundation. That’s what you’re missing most right now. So make sure you read them all. Trust me.”

Those words stuck with Wu Xiang for a long time, striking right at the heart of his current weakness.