Chapter 63 - 1#
The next morning, Chi Gui and the small team he formed with the others left first, heading to a small village in the surrounding mountains to provide free public aid.
Jing Shun finished his activities at Yixian Elementary School and returned to Chuanshi ahead of the main group. The bus arrived at the designated assembly hotel just past five o’clock.
This hotel was the official accommodation for the public welfare team. Everyone was paired up and assigned to standard twin rooms.
To make Jing Shun’s stay more comfortable that night, Chi Gui had instructed his assistant in advance to upgrade the room to the highest standard suite at his own expense.
Chen Yiming got off the bus with Jing Shun, bearing his boss’s instructions firmly in mind. “Mr. Jing, please wait a moment. I’ll check you in.”
“Mm.”
Jing Shun had been on the bus for several hours. He leaned against the wall in the lobby, not sitting down.
He lowered his head and immediately sent a message to Chi Gui: “I’ve arrived at the hotel. How are you?”
Chi Gui replied quickly: “Already at the last village. The village chief has two vacant rooms in his house. Everyone will spread out sleeping mats tonight—we’ll squeeze in and manage.”
“…”
Jing Shun stared at those words, momentarily stunned.
If it were any other pampered young master from the entertainment circle, they would probably complain even if a speck of mud got on their shoes, let alone sleep on the floor in an old house.
Another message came through on his watch: “It’s starting to drizzle here. How’s it over there?”
Jing Shun answered: “No rain, normal weather. I plan to eat a simple meal soon and then head back to rest.”
“Okay. Wait for me to come back tomorrow.”
“Mm.”
Just as he sent the message, a tentative female voice came from beside him.
“Is that Jing Shun?”
“…”
Jing Shun looked up and met the eyes of an elderly woman with completely white hair.
She wore a simple white sports jacket, exuding an undeniable artistic aura. Her eyes were full of warm smiles. “It is Jing Shun, isn’t it?”
Jing Shun recognized her at a glance.
He straightened up and approached with pleasant surprise. “Professor Zhuang, long time no see. What are you doing here?”
Zhuang Yunshu was a first-level professor at the Hai City Film Academy. She had taught countless students over the years. After reaching retirement age, she had been rehired by the academy with the highest honor.
For years, she had diligently passed on her knowledge, always a professor respected and loved by her students.
As a student of film and television performance, Jing Shun not only studied acting itself but also needed to understand related subjects like “History of Chinese Cinema” and “Film Aesthetics.”
Back then, the professor who taught him was Zhuang Yunshu.
Seeing Jing Shun’s warm and respectful attitude, Zhuang Yunshu was delighted. She pointed to the public welfare badge on her chest. “I’m here doing the same thing you are.”
Everyone participating in this charity event received a commemorative badge.
The public welfare activities were divided into several rounds and batches, sometimes with aid activities running simultaneously—
As a professor at the Hai City Film Academy, Zhuang Yunshu had actively signed up from the start. Though she was older, her spirit was always strong.
Over the past two months, Zhuang Yunshu had followed the charity organization to several impoverished counties.
“You went to Yixian? I went to Baiyun Town. The main group came back a little earlier than yours.”
“I had nothing to do, so I wandered around nearby.” Zhuang Yunshu opened the bag in her hand and took out a piece of leaf-shaped cake, handing it to Jing Shun. “Hungry? I just bought these pastries. They’re very soft and sticky.”
Jing Shun obediently took it.
He glanced at the clock displayed in the hotel lobby, a thought stirring in his mind. “Professor, do you have plans tonight? I haven’t seen you in a long time. Let me treat you to dinner?”
Back when Letter to Anhe was being filmed, Zhuang Yunshu had provided free artistic guidance for the crew. Jing Shun had always remembered that kindness.
Seeing the crutch Jing Shun leaned on, Zhuang Yunshu vaguely knew about his experiences over the past two years. She didn’t want to dampen his spirits, so she nodded gently.
“It’s rare to meet by fate like this. I’d also like to have a good chat with you.”
The two didn’t go far. They found a restaurant close to the hotel. In a private room, the dishes were soon served.
Before formally starting the meal, Jing Shun respectfully offered Zhuang Yunshu a cup of tea, observing proper etiquette.
“Professor, please.”
“Mm, you’re thoughtful.”
Zhuang Yunshu accepted with a smile, then looked at the crutch resting on a nearby chair. “How’s your leg doing?”
She had heard the news of his injury only much later.
“I had surgery. I’ve been rehabbing for almost four months now. It’s nearly healed.”
Speaking about his legs, Jing Shun no longer felt the confusion and oppression he had at the beginning. “I can walk without the crutch now, but I’m still cautious.”
Zhuang Yunshu relaxed as well. “Good, good, good. In a little while, you’ll be running and jumping again.”
Jing Shun ladled a bowl of soup for Zhuang Yunshu and handed it to her. “I hope so.”
Zhuang Yunshu had a very good impression of Jing Shun. “Thank you. Eat up yourself; don’t go hungry.”
They ate and chatted, the atmosphere comfortable.
Occasionally, Zhuang Yunshu kept up with her students’ activities. “A while ago, you worked with Zheng Chun’an?”
“Yes, we collaborated on a TV drama.”
Jing Shun reported honestly. “I played a villain in one of the arcs. The show is called Traces. It’s almost at the finale.”
“Is that so? I’ll find time to watch it.”
Jing Shun asked in return, “Professor, did you teach Director Zheng?”
“Yes, he was one of my direct students.”
Zhuang Yunshu explained to Jing Shun, “In your performance major, I only teach one or two specialized courses per semester. But in their directing major, I taught all the core courses.”
“After being rehired, I slacked off a bit. Before that, I even served as their homeroom teacher.”
Thinking of Zheng Chun’an, Zhuang Yunshu couldn’t help but smile. “You wouldn’t know this, but when Zheng Chun’an was in school, he was a rebellious ’troublemaker’ who didn’t follow the usual path.”
“Once, for a midterm assignment, the task was to shoot a promotional video for the school. Good works were supposed to be displayed on the official website. But he—well, the video he turned in scared several of us teachers stiff.”
He had somehow created the look and feel of a campus mystery.
Hearing this, Jing Shun laughed. “No wonder Director Zheng is now completely focused on suspense films.”
Zhuang Yunshu sipped her soup. “Yes, Zheng Chun’an is one of those ‘gifted’ students I’ve encountered. When you’ve been a teacher long enough, you can tell at a glance whether a student has talent.”
Of course, talent was one thing; hard work was another.
“To be honest, the film and TV circle is pretty cruel. So many students enter with dreams, only to be defeated by reality?”
“…”
Hearing Zhuang Yunshu’s words, Jing Shun suddenly thought of Chi Gui. He couldn’t help but say, “Professor, you’ve taught many directing students. I’d like to ask about someone.”
Curious, Zhuang Yunshu asked, “Who?”
“Well, I’m not sure what his name was in college.”
Jing Shun carefully considered his wording and gave the information he had. “He was in the directing major, probably four or five years ahead of me? When Director Zheng came back to school to help, the two of them worked together.”
“But he took a leave of absence after finishing his sophomore year…”
Jing Shun paused, a little embarrassed. “Professor, with just these scattered clues, is it too much trouble?”
“What’s so hard about that?” Zhuang Yunshu had a good memory. She figured it out with just that bit of information. “You’re talking about Song Yu, right?”
“…”
A name that felt both familiar and foreign surfaced.
Jing Shun’s thoughts froze for a moment, and he frowned uncertainly. “What?”
Zhuang Yunshu broke down the surname for him. “Song Yu. Song as in the Song Dynasty, Yu as in ’to give.’”
“As far as I remember, there’s only one student named Song Yu who took a leave of absence after finishing his sophomore year’s second semester.”
Zhuang Yunshu wasn’t Song Yu’s homeroom teacher, but she knew of him.
“Song Yu came in through an internal recommendation. Director Lin, who taught directing, always liked him very much. He praised him as one of those students with exceptional talent and creativity.”
“But something seemed to happen with his family?”
Song Yu disappeared after his sophomore year’s second semester. Even the leave of absence was handled by someone else. Because of this, Director Lin, who had high hopes for him, regretted it for a long time.
Zhuang Yunshu recounted what she remembered.
Only then did she notice the obvious shock on Jing Shun’s face, as if he was having trouble processing this.
“Jing Shun, what’s wrong? Do you know Song Yu?”
“…”
Jing Shun hesitated.
Countless questions came to his lips but were swallowed back down.
He had only been curious about Chi Gui’s former name, wanting to learn more about his lover through others. Instead, he had stumbled upon an unexpected truth—
Chi Gui used to be called Song Yu?
Zhuang Yunshu was still worried. “Jing Shun, if something’s wrong, don’t hide it from me.”
“Professor, I’m fine.”
Jing Shun pulled himself together and only shared what Zhuang Yunshu could understand. “Do you remember my last film? The investor was Song Yu.”
Zhuang Yunshu was surprised. “What a coincidence in this world? No wonder you were asking about him.”
“…”
Yes.
What a coincidence in this world.
If Chi Gui was the Song Yu who invested in his film, then why had Chi Gui pretended not to know anything when they talked about that period before?
Jing Shun considered himself perceptive, but he had never seen any hint of this from Chi Gui.
Out of caution, Jing Shun pressed further. “Professor Zhuang, could you help me contact Director Lin?”
“Do you have any pictures of Song Yu from his school days? I want to confirm it.”
Zhuang Yunshu nodded. “Sure, I’ll ask for you later.”
“Thank you, Professor Zhuang.”
“You’re welcome.”
…
After dinner, Jing Shun returned to his high-rise suite at the hotel.
Just then, a light drizzle began outside the window. Jing Shun locked the doors and windows and sent Chi Gui a greeting message.
But this time, the other party didn’t reply immediately.
Jing Shun wasn’t anxious. Instead, he hurriedly washed up.
When he came out of the bathroom, his charging phone lit up with a message from Zhuang Yunshu.
“Jing Shun, I asked Director Lin. He happens to have a group photo. Take a look?”
“…”
The message arrived, and the image below was still loading.
Jing Shun tapped to open the full picture. The blank loading circle spun to one hundred percent, and a group photo tinged with the marks of time came into view—
Chi Gui stood at the center of the crowd, holding a short film trophy, a faint smile on his face. Around him were four or five spirited young people, likely his teammates from the competition.
Zizi.
Another WeChat message from Zhuang Yunshu popped up: “Director Lin said other things are on his computer. He can only send them to you in a couple of days. Here’s his WeChat card—you can add him.”
Jing Shun thanked Zhuang Yunshu and promptly called the only contact on his watch.
“Sorry, the number you dialed is temporarily unavailable. Please try again later.”