Striving to Realize One’s Dreams

Zhang Pa thought for a while and searched online for “how to make students willing to learn.” This was an unsolvable problem; ninety-nine percent of people in the world don’t want to study, just like ninety-nine percent don’t want to work.

Unwilling to give up, he changed the question and searched again, but it was always the same old stuff: cultivate interest in learning, increase subjective awareness, stimulate the desire to learn, ignite motivation…

To win over this gang of underachievers, he should thank his timely fever. Stimulating their willingness to learn? That’s hopeless. Even if he threatened suicide, it wouldn’t work.

Looking at this group of teenagers—at the age when they should be most curious about women—maybe he should offer a reward: the top ten in the class get to visit a brothel… Was that going too far?

He racked his brains but couldn’t come up with a solution. By the time he came to, class was over.

Next was English. This group of ninth graders had a weaker grasp of English than first-year students. The teacher was patient, starting from the first-year material.

Listening to the teacher recite the alphabet, Zhang Pa suddenly realized: even igniting the desire to learn was pointless. Three years’ worth of material, and these losers hadn’t learned a thing. He thought for a moment and went to find the principal.

The principal wasn’t in the office—who knew where he was. Zhang Pa had to call him, suggesting it’d be best to start teaching from the first-year curriculum.

The principal grumbled, “Why didn’t you say so earlier? Do you know how hard it was to arrange the schedule for your class?”

“You didn’t think of it either,” Zhang Pa replied.

“Are you the homeroom teacher, or am I?” the principal retorted. “I’ll ask this afternoon.” He hung up.

Zhang Pa stood in the corridor for a while, sent a group text to the students: Going to the hospital, you all focus on class.

He’d forbidden phones at school, but he had to give them a chance to break the rules—otherwise, they’d be stifled.

He got to the hospital around ten, quickly finished his IV, and after changing his dressing, walked to the new apartment with the infusion bag.

The place was huge, full of furniture, all collected from different homes.

With Happiness Lane about to be demolished, people were moving into temporary housing or buying new places, so lots of sofas and cabinets were being thrown out—perfect to bring here.

Six people were sitting in the living room: Lu Yiyi and Big Huang, plus Ladyboy, Fatty, Turtle, and Old Meng.

Seeing Zhang Pa come in with the IV, Fatty asked, “What’s this about?”

“I’m seriously wounded—just started recovering today. Aren’t you moved?” Zhang Pa found a place to hang his IV, shook out his arms, and said, “I’m exhausted.” He sat down. “How did it go?”

Fatty handed him the camera. “See for yourself.”

So he watched. The same scene shot seven times—a little over a minute each—start to finish, every take awkward and stiff.

Zhang Pa said, “That’s not right.”

“We’re just not professionals,” Ladyboy said.

“You don’t need to act,” Zhang Pa said. “Don’t worry about accents—just speak and act as you normally do. Be yourself; you’re not acting.”

“Easy for you to say. You try it,” Fatty challenged.

Zhang Pa thought for a moment, recorded himself for a few seconds, then checked the footage. “Damn, am I really this ugly?”

Fatty burst out laughing. “No kidding.”

Lu Yiyi said, “Right? We look better in our selfies. Maybe the camera’s bad and makes us look ugly?”

Fatty retorted, “Nonsense! This little gadget cost tens of thousands.”

Zhang Pa told Fatty, “Try again. The script is based on you—you’re the main character. No one else can replace you.”

“I give up,” Fatty said. “After two days of messing around, this is all we’ve got. It’s hopeless.” After a pause, he added, “Good thing we didn’t invest any money, or we’d be ruined.”

Zhang Pa asked, “What does Dazhuang say?”

“He hasn’t shown up,” Fatty replied. “He doesn’t want to put pressure on us, so he hardly appears.”

Zhang Pa shook his head. “I’ll think some more.” Then he asked, “Are you staying here now?”

“Of course. We have to shoot something to report back to Dazhuang. Unlike you, I have a sense of responsibility,” Fatty teased.

Zhang Pa smiled. “Fine, I’m irresponsible.”

Fatty said, “You figure it out. We’re hungry—let’s eat.” He called everyone to go.

“I have to finish my IV anyway, you all go ahead,” Zhang Pa said, picking up the script and comparing it to the footage.

“What do you want to eat? We’ll bring it back,” Fatty offered.

“Anything is fine,” Zhang Pa replied offhandedly.

That noon, Zhang Pa was deep in thought about the web series. At two in the afternoon, Fatty and the others returned, faces flushed from drinking—boys and girls alike. Ladyboy was especially bold, practically holding Lu Yiyi on the way back; Lu Yiyi didn’t mind.

Zhang Pa asked, “You two together now?”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” Ladyboy said, but didn’t let go.

Fatty set down several lunchboxes and asked, “How’s it going?”

“You guys go rest, I’ll think some more,” Zhang Pa said.

By then, the IV was done, and he was mostly recovered. But now he was stuck with two big problems: how to get those guys to study, and how to shoot decent scenes.

His head ached from all the thinking. Fatty said, “Eat first.”

Zhang Pa opened the lunchboxes—one box of rice and three of cold dishes. Annoyed, he said, “Getting back at me, huh?”

“Not at all. We already ate, and the chef had left,” Fatty explained with a grin.

Just then, Liu Xiaomei called. “Where are you?”

Zhang Pa walked aside to answer. “At my new place—I moved.”

“You moved? Why not closer to the Conservatory?” she asked.

He hurried to explain. “Didn’t spend any money. A friend rented a big place and gave me a room.”

“A friend? Guy or girl?”

“Guy. He runs a gym. If you want to work out, come anytime.”

“I dance every day, what do I need a gym for?” she said. “Still have a fever?”

“No, just finished the IV.”

“Then you’re fine. When will you invite me over?”

“There’s a bunch of hooligans living here—not convenient for you.”

She made a sound of acknowledgment. “Alright, bye then.” She hung up.

Zhang Pa stared blankly for a moment. Fatty asked who it was.

Suddenly, Lu Yiyi asked, “Are you dating our school beauty?”

“School beauty? How pretty?” Ladyboy asked.

Fatty’s eyes lit up. “No way—you quietly landed the school beauty?”

Zhang Pa asked Lu Yiyi, “Who told you that?”

“I saw it online. Someone looked just like you—hair, build, even a half-profile. Looked exactly like you.”

Zhang Pa was shocked. “I’m online now?”

Fatty pulled out his phone. “What should I search?”

Lu Yiyi took out her own phone. “On our school forum.” After a moment, she held up her phone to compare with Zhang Pa. “It’s you, really impressive.”

The guys all crowded around to look. There were four photos—two showed Zhang Pa and Liu Xiaomei walking together, the other two were Liu Xiaomei’s solo promo shots, in a dance costume, posing beautifully, stunning.

Even Ladyboy was dumbfounded. “Come clean, you have to tell us—what’s going on?”

Fatty asked slyly, “Did you get her or not?”

Zhang Pa replied, “I got you.”

“You have to go for it! A girl this beautiful—if you don’t, someone else will. If you’re not interested, hand her over. Don’t let this opportunity go to waste,” Fatty insisted.

Zhang Pa snapped, “Can you ever say anything decent?”

“Nice or not, it’s the same meaning,” Fatty argued, then asked, “How did you meet?”

Zhang Pa couldn’t be bothered to answer.

Lu Yiyi suddenly said, “You two look great together—why not invite her for the web series? Trust me, no matter what you shoot, people will watch, and you’ll make your money back.”

Fatty agreed. “Right, you two as leads, we’ll be the supporting cast. If the show’s a hit, we’ll all get famous. We’re counting on you.”

“What are you thinking? I’m a writer,” Zhang Pa said.

“Damn, if we say you’re a writer, we get beaten, but you can say it yourself?” Fatty retorted.

“It’s not the same,” Zhang Pa replied. “Enough, if you’re not resting, let’s shoot again—one more scene.”

“We’re still filming?” Fatty said. “You just won’t give up.”

Zhang Pa picked up the camera, framing the shot, and pointed. “Here, right?”

Fatty asked Lu Yiyi, “Ready to film?”

“Let’s do it,” Lu Yiyi said, taking her position. Fatty joined her, getting into character. “Ready?” he asked Zhang Pa.

Zhang Pa laughed. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you?”

“We’re ready,” Lu Yiyi replied, then called out, “Action!” and slipped into her role.

Maybe it was the effect of the alcohol, but compared to the footage from before, their movements were more natural, and their expressions more genuine. Fatty was still a bit stiff, not fully relaxed.

Zhang Pa called cut, telling Fatty he had to loosen up—really let go.

Fatty insisted he was already relaxed.

Zhang Pa had to go over and demonstrate.

The opening scene of “One Hundred Ninety Pounds” was Fatty pursuing a beautiful girl.

To attract viewers, there had to be something engaging. This web series had no handsome guys, and the beautiful girls weren’t that eye-catching, so they had to get straight into the plot—ideally with conflict or humor.

The script opened with Fatty making a move on a girl on the street. He bravely approached and said, “Hey beauty, want to watch a dirty movie together?” The beauty was stunned for a moment, then replied, “Okay.”

What an unusual, unexpected, and enticing scene! At least many people would want to see what happened next—what the two watched, what kind of film, and what would follow…

Yet even with such a simple scene—from Fatty’s appearance, his noticing the beauty, his interest, and his bold approach—they just couldn’t get it right.

When Zhang Pa and Lu Yiyi demonstrated, the entrance was fine, but their walking was awkward—so much so that Fatty and Turtle both called cut, and Turtle burst out laughing. “With your posture, you’re in no position to direct anyone.”

“If you can do better, you try,” Zhang Pa retorted.

“I can’t, but I can say so,” Turtle replied.

Zhang Pa asked Fatty, “What exactly am I doing wrong?”

“The way you walk. You’re fine standing still, but your walk doesn’t look natural. Also, your normal walking posture isn’t that proper. Stars all get trained to walk a certain way—you need to learn from them,” Fatty explained.

Zhang Pa thought for a bit. “You’re always criticizing me, but why can’t you do it?”

“I just learned it from the internet,” Fatty said. “If I’d studied this hard back in school, I’d have graduated from Tsinghua.”

Zhang Pa replied with an old Guo Degang joke: “You graduated from the Tsinghua Pool, that’s what.”