Huayu: A master director who debuted as a singer

Chapter 88 Selling Favors

In the literature department's grading room, several gray-haired teachers were buried in piles of papers.

"This year's prospects are no good."

A teacher put down his red pen, rubbing his temples: "The timeline is like flowing water at the beginning, flowing water in the middle, and flowing water at the end. Three pages long. After reading it, I think this paper should be thrown into the water."

"That's right." Someone next to me chimed in, "It's even more exaggerated here. Eight out of ten people who write about dreams say that dreams are the lighthouse of life, guiding us forward."

What is your dream? What have you done for it? You didn't say anything, just gave me a bunch of idioms and metaphors; it made me so angry my liver hurt.

Teacher Liu walked in carrying a stack of files and, upon hearing this, said, "Old Wang, Old Li, don't rush to conclusions. I have something interesting to share."

He placed the file folder on the table and first pulled out Zheng Hui's first part of the answer sheet.

"Take a look at this first."

Old Wang took it, glanced at it, and his brows relaxed: "Nice handwriting, neat, it's pleasing to the eye."

He continued reading, his expression shifting from relaxed to surprised.

"On the Realist Characteristics of Balzac's *The Human Comedy*"

He not only pinpointed the core issue but also used Zola's naturalism as a point of comparison, analyzing the similarities and differences between the two realist schools—his line of thinking is remarkably clear.

Old Li also came over, leaning on the table and looking down at the test paper.

"Look at this, it's an evaluation of the merits and demerits of the script adaptation of the movie 'Farewell My Concubine'."

He mentioned the original author Li Bihua's writing style and analyzed how screenwriter Lu Wei preserved the tragic core of the original work while adding dramatic conflicts that were more in line with cinematic language during the adaptation.

This—this doesn't look like a test taker; it looks like one of our own people writing a thesis.

Several teachers took turns looking at the answer sheets.

The marking room fell silent, with only the sound of papers turning.

"Part One, all correct."

After reviewing the last question, Lao Wang concluded: "No, it can't be said to be entirely correct. Some subjective questions don't have standard answers, but personally, I think his answer is better than the standard answer, with more sufficient evidence."

Old Li nodded: "I agree, this part deserves full marks."

Teacher Liu then pulled out the second part of the answer sheet from the file folder, the one about the story of "Whiplash": "Don't worry, there's more to come."

The crowd gathered around, looking at the story outline.

When they read about how the boy's hands were worn raw and blood splattered on the drum surface from practicing, they frowned.

They were heartbroken when they read about the boy who, after a car accident, dragged his injured leg to the concert hall, just so he wouldn't miss his last chance.

When they read the ending, where the boy on stage performed a crazy solo, achieving revenge and surpassing his mentor, they smiled.

"This story is written too obsessively," Old Wang muttered to himself.

"This isn't a dream, it's a sacrifice." Old Li's eyes shone with light: "For art, to offer oneself as a sacrifice to that god called the ultimate."

Just as everyone was still immersed in the shock brought by "Whiplash", Teacher Liu took out that draft paper again.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what if I told you that the wonderful story you just heard was actually written after he abandoned another idea?"

He laid the draft paper flat on the table.

"The Time Planning Bureau?"

Several teachers looked at the crossed-out title and the brief description below, initially puzzled, then their eyes widened in surprise.

"Time becomes currency—the poor sell their lives to survive—the rich live forever—"

Old Wang held the draft paper in front of him and read it word by word.

"My God—this setting—this worldview—"

He suddenly looked up at Teacher Liu: "Teacher Liu, are you sure this was written by the student? Or copied from some science fiction magazine?"

"Look at this handwriting, it's exactly the same as the one on the answer sheet," Teacher Liu pointed out.

"This idea is more than just a movie story; it's a social allegory, a philosophical proposition. The depths that can be explored within it are unfathomable."

Just then, the conference room door was pushed open.

A middle-aged man walked in; he was the head of the literature department, and his surname was Qian.

"You've all worked hard." Director Qian walked in, glanced at the atmosphere in the room, and asked, "What's wrong? Why are you all so serious? Have you discovered some promising talents, or are you upset about the 'good job'?"

"Director, please take a look for yourself." Teacher Liu handed Zheng Hui's answer sheet and draft paper together.

Director Qian took the paper, looked at the answer sheet, and a satisfied smile appeared on his face.

"Not bad, solid foundation, and a natural talent."

Then, he saw the draft paper.

His expression was exactly the same as the other teachers'.

From calm, to surprise, and then to shock.

He held the thin sheet of draft paper and looked at it repeatedly, as if trying to find something interesting in those few lines of text.

"What's this candidate's name?" Director Qian asked, looking up.

"Zheng Hui," Teacher Liu replied.

"Zheng Hui—" Director Qian murmured the name, then suddenly remembered something: "Is it that Zheng Hui who sings?"

"It's him."

Director Qian fell silent. He placed the test paper and draft paper on the table and paced back and forth a couple of times.

Everyone in the room was looking at him, waiting for him to speak.

"Zheng Hui ranked first in the written test."

"As for this 'In Time' story—" He picked up the draft paper: "During the interview tomorrow, I must personally ask him if he has thought through the second half of the story."

The admissions office has the authority to supervise the grading process of each department.

Director Xie from the admissions office knows that the literature department exam is today, and the grading process must have already begun.

He had nothing to do, so he strolled over with his hands behind his back.

Before I even reached the door of the marking room, I could hear faint sounds of discussion coming from inside.

He pushed open the door and went in; all the teachers in the room looked up at him.

"Director Xie, what brings you here?" Director Qian stood up to greet him.

"I've come over for a look around." Director Xie waved his hand, signaling them to continue.

He walked over to the grading table and casually asked, "How's it going? Any outstanding students in the literature department this year?"

Before Director Qian could speak, Teacher Liu, who was standing next to him, spoke up first.

"They're not just outstanding, they're prodigies!"

"Oh?" Director Xie's interest was piqued. "How so?"

"Director, you've come at the perfect time." Director Qian handed Zheng Hui's exam paper over: "Please take a look and give it your opinion."

Director Xie took the paper, but instead of looking at the contents, he glanced at the name first.

Zheng Hui.

His heart skipped a beat, but his face remained impassive.

He looked down at the scroll, reading from the first part to the second, examining it very carefully.

The more I looked, the wider his smile became.

Finally, he picked up the draft paper that the teachers had set aside separately.

When he saw the words "Time Planning Bureau" and the setting behind it, he was also amazed by the concept.

"How is it, Director Xie?" Director Qian asked from the side.

Director Xie put down the test paper, but instead of commenting on it directly, he looked at Director Qian and said half-jokingly, "Old Qian, you owe me a big favor this time."

Director Qian was taken aback: "What favor do I owe you?"

Director Xie pointed to Zheng Hui's test paper on the table: "This student is someone I got for you."

"What do you mean?"

"They were focused on getting into the directing department and never even considered your literature department."

Director Xie said smugly, "I told him that the directing department wasn't recruiting students this year, so why not take a roundabout approach and try applying to the literature department first? That's when he started to consider it."

Director Xie embellished the story of Zheng Hui's consultation in the office that day.

"You have no idea how stubborn this kid was back then. He was set on directing, and nothing could sway him."

"If I hadn't reasoned with you and appealed to your emotions, analyzing the pros and cons for so long, your literature department would have missed out on this gem this year."

After hearing this, Director Qian was left speechless, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

He pointed at Director Xie: "You, you're such a cunning old fox. Fine, I'll accept this favor."

He paused, then added, "But then again, this kid is a genius. Just that one idea he abandoned on the draft paper is enough for our department's graduate students to write several papers."

Director Xie was secretly very satisfied, but he didn't mince words: "Just acknowledging it isn't enough. Once this student is officially admitted, you have to treat me to drinks. Not just one, but several, and they have to be good wine. One drink definitely won't do."

Director Qian was amused by him: "Alright, as long as he passes the academic exam and gets into school smoothly, I'll treat you to a week's worth of drinks, let alone a few meals."

"You said it yourself!" Director Xie slapped his thigh. "Everyone here heard it and can be my witness."

A good-natured laugh rang out from inside the room.

After finishing his conversation with the literature department, Director Xie left satisfied.

He walked down the corridor with his hands behind his back, took out his phone, found a number, and dialed it.

The phone rang a few times before being answered.

"Hello, who is this?" A male voice came from the other end of the phone.

"Xiaojing, it's me, Lao Xie."

The person on the other end of the phone was Xie Xiaojing, the head of the directing department.

"Oh, Lao Xie, what's up?" Xie Xiaojing was busy with the start of the semester and didn't have time for formalities, so she asked directly.

"It's nothing serious, just wanted to let you know."

"We expanded our enrollment this year, and a promising talent has emerged from the literature department."

"A promising talent from the literature department, why are you telling me this?" Xie Xiaojing said impatiently, "I'm not a theorist."

Director Xie said calmly, "Don't rush, this candidate is a bit special."

The test was answered very well, but I can't go into specifics because of regulations.

"When the results are released tomorrow, have someone from your department check the files; he's number one."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

Director Xie continued, "This applicant originally wanted to apply to your directing department. Unfortunately, you're not admitting undergraduates this year."

"I saw that he was a good candidate and couldn't bear to make him wait another year, so I made the decision to let him enter the literature department first, which was a roundabout way to achieve my goal."

"I'm giving you a heads-up in advance because I'm afraid this kid might cause some trouble at our school and you'll blame me for not telling you beforehand, saying that I, Old Xie, am hoarding good talent and hiding it away."

Xie Xiaojing fell completely silent on the other end; he knew Lao Xie's character all too well.

As the director of the admissions office, he has a keen eye and never does anything without certainty.

The fact that he would specifically call to do a favor shows that the candidate named Zheng Hui is definitely not just an ordinary person.

"Okay, I got it. Consider it a meal I owe you."

"Then I'm going to have to make you pay." Director Xie laughed and hung up the phone.

Putting away his phone, Director Xie felt relieved. He'd done two favors for one person; it was a worthwhile deal.