Chi Ying groggily opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was a weathered, peeling ceiling. Looking around, she noticed the small floral bed curtains swaying gently in the breeze from a tiny electric fan.
That pattern looked like something straight out of the last century.
Wasn’t this her college dormitory?
She had bought those curtains with her roommates when she first started university. They had hung around her bunk for all four years, until she threw them away upon graduation.
She clearly remembered standing outside the television station just moments ago, about to head out for lunch. It was early winter, and a light rain was falling. She had been holding an umbrella when she slipped without noticing. Everything went black after that.
The only things she remembered were the screech of brakes and people screaming around her…
And now, after opening her eyes again, she was back on her college dorm bed.
What year was this again?
As she sat there in a daze, the door burst open with a loud bang.
Startled, Chi Ying shot upright on her bed.
A gust of wind rushed in along with Professor Liu, drenched in sweat. She was the homeroom teacher for the directing department.
The elderly woman stood in the middle of the dormitory, pointing furiously at Chi Ying.
“Chi Ying! By giving up your placement in Beijing, you’re giving up filmmaking. You’re giving up your dream. Have you lost your mind?”
Professor Liu was from Shanghai. She had entered the Beijing Film Academy the year the national college entrance examination was reinstated, then stayed on after graduation to teach. She normally spoke standard Mandarin, but whenever she became emotional, her Shanghai dialect would inevitably slip through.
And at that moment, Chi Ying finally confirmed it.
It was 1998.
The year she graduated from college.
She leaped down from the top bunk without a second thought, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through her foot.
She had been reborn.
The intense pain in her foot quickly brought her back to reality.
This wasn’t a dream.
Suppressing the excitement surging through her chest, Chi Ying limped over to Professor Liu.
“Professor Liu, I haven’t given up on my dream. My dream has always been to make the greatest films in China…”
Her words only made Professor Liu even more agitated.
She waved the paper in her hand.
“Then what is this? Beijing has the best film resources in the country. It’s the highest platform for filmmaking in China…”
Chi Ying’s attention was immediately drawn to the paper.
It was her graduation job assignment certificate.
She remembered it clearly.
In her previous life, she and her ex-boyfriend had gone together to the department office to return that assignment. She had insisted on following him back to his hometown to work at the provincial television station.
But she hadn’t experienced this scene before.
She hadn’t been in the dormitory when Professor Liu came looking for her with the assignment certificate.
Later, one of her roommates casually mentioned it to her, and afterward she’d avoided Professor Liu for quite some time.
Back then, the government still assigned jobs to college graduates.
A Beijing placement was extraordinarily rare.
Among an entire graduating class, only a handful would receive both a Beijing household registration and a government position.
As the most talented student in the directing department and the graduate with the highest academic standing that year, Chi Ying had been personally selected by the Film Script Planning and Production Center, a public institution directly under China’s State Administration of Radio, Film, and Television.
The center had only been established at the end of the previous year. It was a brand-new organization eager to make its mark.
Its administrative rank was exceptionally high. It not only provided a Beijing household registration but also employee housing.
The center had thought highly of Chi Ying from the very beginning. Half a year before graduation, they had already contacted the department specifically to arrange for her to intern there.
To everyone else, it was the opportunity of a lifetime.
But to the proud, headstrong Chi Ying of those days, it had been beneath her notice.
She had visited the center several times and found it disorganized.
The staff mostly spent their days in meetings or traveling on research assignments.
It all felt incredibly dull, nothing like the filmmaking career she had imagined.
Officially, the center’s responsibilities included screenplay planning, film production guidance, and assisting domestic and international production companies in developing film projects that could be produced and released within China.
However, at the time, mainland China’s film industry had yet to fully open up.
Private production companies couldn’t even obtain filming permits.
Even many of the well-known private studios that emerged later had to operate under the umbrella of state-owned film studios if they wanted to produce movies.
It wasn’t until 2002 that private companies officially gained the right to produce films independently.
Chi Ying had also looked into the center’s track record.
It hadn’t participated in many productions, and the few projects it could claim were mostly patriotic, mainstream films.
To a proud film academy student like her back then, they were completely beneath her interest.
She had found the work unbearably boring.
After a few visits, she simply stopped going.
Coupled with being completely blinded by love, she had promised that scumbag boyfriend they would stay together forever.
So she had stubbornly thrown away that precious opportunity.
From then on, every mistake led to another.
Each retreat became another compromise.
Until eventually, her life had sunk into the dust.
And it had all begun…
…with the assignment certificate now in Professor Liu’s hand.
Now that she had been given a second chance, she would never repeat the same mistake.
To her now, that assignment certificate wasn’t just a document.
It was the golden key to restarting her future.
Seeing Chi Ying staring blankly at the paper in her hand, Professor Liu assumed she was still entertaining whatever ridiculous ideas she’d had before.
Her anger flared again.
“So what on earth are you thinking?”
The high-volume shout finally snapped Chi Ying out of her thoughts.
She immediately bowed deeply.
“Professor Liu, I was wrong! I was drunk! My brain wasn’t working! Please don’t hold it against me. Give me back my assignment certificate. I’ll report to the center this afternoon!”
Professor Liu had been ready to unleash another lecture.
Instead, this complete reversal caught her utterly off guard.
She eyed Chi Ying suspiciously, unable to figure out what she was up to.
Thinking this might just be another delaying tactic, she rubbed her aching forehead.
“What exactly is going on with you? This isn’t child’s play. You can’t just decide to go one minute and refuse the next. I went to a great deal of trouble to stop the department from canceling this placement. This is your only chance. Your life is your own, and sometimes a single choice determines the road you’ll walk for the rest of it…”
Having already lived through an entire lifetime, Chi Ying understood those words better than anyone.
She took a deep breath.
“Professor Liu, I was wrong. Sometimes people have to go through certain things before they can truly see clearly and understand. I promise I won’t let you down again. I’ll stay in Beijing, work hard, and become the greatest director China has ever had.”
Afraid Professor Liu still wouldn’t believe her, she stretched out her still-throbbing foot.
“I’ll pack my things and report to the Planning Center right away. Later, I’ll ask a few male classmates to help me move my belongings to the staff dormitory. If you’re still worried, would you come with me when I check in?”
Professor Liu was completely bewildered.
She studied Chi Ying for a long time.
It was as though, in just a few days, this student had changed from the inside out.
The old Chi Ying had always been pretty, but there was a rebellious arrogance between her brows.
Only when she was with that so-called boyfriend did she seem to soften slightly.
Otherwise, everyone around her could feel that sharp edge.
She was like a precious gemstone.
Brilliant and dazzling…
But full of sharp corners.
The Chi Ying standing before her now, however, resembled a piece of jade that had been carefully polished.
The youthful roughness and sharp edges had disappeared.
What remained was a warm, gentle radiance hidden beneath the surface.
Professor Liu suddenly felt a weight lift from her shoulders.
“Go get yourself cleaned up,” she instructed. “Tone down that artistic look of yours. This is a government institution, after all…”
“I know, I know! I’ll dress more formally.”
After hastily packing everything together, Chi Ying took her assignment certificate and personal documents.
Under Professor Liu’s watchful gaze, she walked out through the university gates.
The entrance to Beijing Film Academy was just as lively as ever.
Crowds bustled back and forth amid the constant stream of traffic.
Students came and went throughout the day.
With graduation season underway, groups of graduates were everywhere, taking commemorative photos and posing for endless pictures together.
Chi Ying waited for a while at the bus stop outside the school.
When the bus arrived, she climbed aboard.
As it rattled its way down the road, the academy gates gradually shrank into the distance behind her.
…
The Planning Center wasn’t far from the university.
The district surrounding the film academy was the heart of Beijing’s film industry, and indeed the center of China’s entire film industry.
Several art academies, numerous film research institutes, and even Huaying Group, the largest film enterprise in China, were all located nearby.
Professor Liu had been right.
This area concentrated the finest filmmaking resources in the country.
It represented the highest level of Chinese film production.
Countless people chasing dreams of making movies gathered here with screenplays in hand, searching for investors.
The area around Huaying Group was especially crowded.
Unfortunately, there were far more hopeful filmmakers than opportunities.
Very few films were produced nationwide each year.
Money was scarce everywhere.
State-run production companies lacked funding.
Private companies couldn’t obtain filming permits.
Meanwhile, ordinary people preferred watching television, often going years without stepping into a movie theater.
As a result, cinemas across the country were closing in droves.
But Chi Ying knew something no one else did.
This was the final winter.
The final darkness before the dawn of Chinese cinema.
Within three years, China’s film industry would enter an era of explosive growth.
Beginning with the new century, annual box office revenue would soar year after year.
The expansion would be nothing short of phenomenal.
It would astonish not only professionals within China but the entire world.
Before long, China’s box office would surpass Japan’s, becoming the second-largest film market in the world.
Even Hollywood would become greedy for this enormous market.
To make money, studios would shamelessly create so-called “China-exclusive versions” of their films.
They would cast a few recognizable Chinese actors, give them a handful of awkward lines, toss them a few insignificant scenes…
And still rake in enormous profits.
“This time…”
“I’ll seize the opportunity.”
“I’ll be part of this era of cinema.”
Standing beneath the office building that housed the Planning Center, Chi Ying silently encouraged herself.
Then, filled with confidence, she strode inside.
…
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