YABE - 16

Gu Yao had skipped her afternoon class to hear about her friend’s romantic entanglements, so she came in a whirlwind, listened in a whirlwind, and left in a whirlwind. Midway through, she received a call from her roommate—the teacher had taken attendance.

Wen Siyu, holding her milk tea cup, laughed mercilessly.

Then she also received a call from her roommate—her Introduction to Arts teacher had taken attendance too.

Wen Siyu: “….”

Now officially transitioning from a fresh-faced freshman or sophomore to a seasoned junior, the increase in age was matched by the steady rise in her workload. The director’s program was incredibly busy and exhausting, with three foundational courses: screenwriting, acting, and audiovisual language. Since the start of the semester, Wen Siyu and her roommates had felt immense pressure from their professors across all subjects.

Especially audiovisual language.

It was every film directing student’s nightmare.

When Xiang Ge came to find her, Wen Siyu had just lost her textbook for this nightmare subject and was preparing to play some games to unwind.

Xiang Ge and Wen Siyu’s fateful meeting had occurred during a game of Werewolf.

At the beginning of college, every girl surely fantasized about a passionate, unforgettable, fiery campus romance.

This was especially true at the Beijing Film Academy, where handsome guys and beautiful girls were abundant. Grabbing anyone off the street would yield someone well above average in looks; the senior boys were all tall, handsome, and charming.

To say that Wen Siyu hadn’t entertained any romantic fantasies would be a lie.

Her enthusiasm for seniors manifested most clearly in mixers.

Mixer gatherings were an essential part of every college student’s journey—a hotspot for both accidents and stories.

Back then, as a freshman, Wen Siyu was fair-skinned, beautiful, and long-legged, soft and delicate like a little sister. Naturally, there was no reason she wouldn’t be invited to a mixer.

The little girl wore a white dress, applied a natural makeup look, her almond-shaped eyes shimmering with moisture. When she smiled, her eyes curved into crescent moons, exuding a gentle and adorable charm.

The senior boys present couldn’t help but steal glances at her.

However, this phenomenon came to an abrupt halt when everyone suggested playing Werewolf.

The sweet and gentle girl who had been smiling moments ago suddenly transformed the moment she picked up her cards. Her aura shifted instantly; a faint smile lingered on her lips, her eyes calm and composed. With a voice as soft as orchids, she began confidently spinning lies.

Her words were confident and unhurried, her logic sharp, her gaze piercing. Even when suspected, she remained completely unfazed, calmly analyzing situations and skillfully shifting blame, ultimately escaping suspicion.

—But in reality, she was the werewolf.

After a few rounds, everyone was no match for her, allowing Wen Siyu to dominate the game with her smooth-talking prowess, controlling the flow of the entire match.

Only Xiang Ge could stand up to her.

The girl wore a black T-shirt and ripped jeans, with a row of piercings on her left ear. Facing a formidable opponent like Wen Siyu, she showed no fear. The two exchanged words without a single crack in their façades, blowing hot air at each other with increasing intensity. Each round grew more heated, until they saw blazing flames in each other’s eyes—and perhaps, a mutual respect.

They decisively exchanged WeChat contacts.

Xiang Ge was in the acting department, the same year as Wen Siyu. She had the face of a rebellious beauty, strikingly aggressive in her allure.

Even in a school teeming with beauties and budding stars like the Beijing Film Academy, she could top the list of campus queens solely based on her looks.

Their friendship rapidly deepened. Wen Siyu had no doubt that if Xiang Ge debuted a few years later, she’d jump ship from Jiang Xu’s fandom to become her die-hard fan.

This time, the girl came to ask if she’d be interested in filming a short indie movie.

It was a campus microfilm about the choices between ideals and reality faced by young boys and girls, exploring themes of friendship and love encountered while chasing dreams.

The script was written by a fellow student—one of Xiang Ge’s friends—who was a senior and intended it as his graduation project. Wen Siyu flipped through the draft; the screenplay brimmed with youthful passion and positive energy.

Thinking of her audiovisual language assignment this semester, Wen Siyu agreed without hesitation.

The next afternoon, as soon as classes ended, Xiang Ge dragged Wen Siyu to the volleyball court.

A few people were already waiting there—two girls and three boys. One of the boys whistled when he saw Wen Siyu.

The boy beside him looked up, startled.

Xiang Ge pulled Wen Siyu over, chin raised, grinning: “Let me introduce you to my newly recruited little director.”

The one who had whistled earlier sat perched on a platform, legs crossed casually. He grinned too: “I know, I know—the Wen Siyu from the directing department, Zhen-ge’s dream girl.” Flashing a set of pearly whites, he extended his hand toward Wen Siyu, introducing himself: “Nice to meet you, sis. My name’s Louis, like Louis XIV.”

The boy beside him chuckled, raising his hand to deliver a sharp slap on Louis’ wrist. Louis sheepishly retracted his hand.

Wen Siyu couldn’t help but laugh at the scene.

The other boy smiled apologetically: “Sorry about that—he loves joking around.”

He was tall, wearing a clean white shirt with wooden buttons, looking very neat. His handsome face seemed oddly familiar.

Wen Siyu recalled seeing his face on the school forum before—he was the “Prince of Songs” from the acting department.

The white-shirted boy introduced himself: “Hello, I’m Yuan Zhen.”

Wen Siyu thought to herself, I know you—you’re Yuan Zhen, the campus heartthrob whose song “Farewell” captured countless hearts.

Outwardly, she responded politely with a smile: “I’m Wen Siyu.”

Though Wen Siyu had been brought in by Xiang Ge, as the director of this short film, she naturally took the lead in this small creative team.

After several rounds of discussions with the screenwriter to revise the script, finalize the main roles, prepare everything, and borrow equipment, filming officially began a week later.

By the end of September, in the third-floor study room of the library, the girl wore a white hoodie and black pencil pants, accentuating her slender legs. She stood behind the large camera, intently reviewing the footage they had just shot, her eyes unwavering.

Yuan Zhen approached, holding a bottle of mineral water, which he placed between her and the camera.

Her view abruptly blocked, Wen Siyu first frowned slightly, then lifted her head to see the man standing before her, holding the water bottle.

The little girl paused, took the water, and nodded politely: “Thank you, Senior.”

Yuan Zhen was a senior, graduating next year, and it was rumored that he had already signed with an entertainment company, with plans to start working formally early next year.

Wen Siyu responded courteously, and Yuan Zhen said nothing more, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he earnestly commented: “Director Wen is truly dedicated.”

Wen Siyu took a sip of water and smiled in response: “Teacher Yuan’s performance was excellent—he’s a great actor.”

“Director Wen says that,” Yuan Zhen tilted his head slightly, feigning a pouty complaint, “but you made me NG four times just now.”

His skin was pale, his nose high, and when he smiled, two faint dimples appeared at the corners of his mouth, making him look very handsome.

The little girl genuinely laughed this time. Pretending to be serious, she replied: “With every take, Teacher Yuan made me feel like you could perform even better, so I couldn’t help but try again and again.”

Yuan Zhen paused, his gaze softening. Just as he was about to say something, he was suddenly interrupted.

Louis, still wearing the basketball jersey from earlier, burst out from behind and slung his arm around Yuan Zhen’s neck, nearly knocking him off balance.

Louis grinned brightly, enthusiastically promoting Yuan Zhen to Wen Siyu: “Our Zhen-ge isn’t just an amazing actor—his singing is mind-blowing too, Director Wen! After listening to him, I wanted to marry him!”

Wen Siyu: “….”

Yuan Zhen turned his head away, smiling: “Let go.”

Louis ignored him, continuing to hype up Yuan Zhen’s image with great effort: “Little Sister Wen, our Zhen-ge isn’t just a talented actor and singer—he’s also loyal and a good man! No gaming, no flirting with girls, not even bragging with us. For four whole years, I’ve never seen him date anyone—he’s single to this day!” Growing increasingly animated, he completely disregarded the darkening expression of the man he was gripping onto, gesturing with his arms: “The line of girls chasing him stretches all the way from our school to the neighboring Foreign Languages University. But Zhen-ge remains unmoved, his heart as calm as still water. He’s always our reliable teammate, our strongest support.”

Wen Siyu: “….”

Yuan Zhen: “….”

The initial stages of filming for the microfilm went smoothly. However, around the one-third mark, the male protagonist needed to undergo a psychological transformation, which would also affect his attitude toward the female lead and his friends. Yet, something about it felt slightly off.

This segment was filmed continuously for three days, but Wen Siyu still felt that Yuan Zhen’s performance lacked the intense contrast needed to create impact.

Coincidentally, the Mid-Autumn Festival was just two days away, and everyone’s hearts were already racing to return home. Realizing this, Wen Siyu decided to give her small crew a break, using the holiday to adjust their state of mind.

After finishing her afternoon class the next day, Wen Siyu packed her bags and prepared to leave. Before leaving, she gave her brother, Wen Siyuan, a symbolic call.

Her older brother was in the middle of a meeting, and his tone was filled with professionalism: “Speak quickly if you have something to say.”

The little girl knew how to keep it concise: “I’m coming home tonight.”

The person on the other end was surprised: “Tonight? Were you expelled from school?”

Wen Siyu: “….”

“Brother, tomorrow’s the Mid-Autumn Festival.”

Wen Siyuan seemed to have completely forgotten about it. After a brief silence, he continued: “I might be late coming home today. Buy something to eat on your way back—I’ll hang up now.”

With that, the call ended.

“….”

The little girl felt that her brother’s attitude was even more dismissive than her own as a younger sister.

Dragging her suitcase toward the school gate, Wen Siyu absentmindedly glanced at the basketball court and spotted a somewhat familiar figure.

The man leaned against the metal fence, wearing a disposable mask and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.

His deep brown eyes, hidden in shadow, stared straight at her.