To put it plainly, Shawn Carter was never someone with lofty artistic ambitions—he’s just an ordinary guy. The reason he plunged into the entertainment industry was because of a news story he saw back in his student days.

Carax would fall in love with his leading ladies while filming, and he was upfront about it—he said it was because (she) was beautiful, and only then could she inspire his creativity. Was he making movies or picking concubines?

Binoche and Golubeva were both beauties!

As for Fassbinder, never mind his sexual orientation—while living with his boyfriend, he also had a girlfriend, Hermann. Abusing Hermann was a regular occurrence, and he even forced her to sell her body to make ends meet, driving her to attempt suicide three times.

Lars von Trier openly declared himself a supporter of the Nazis. Not to mention the big-name director Polanski’s scandals. Anyway, to the young Shawn Carter, all of this seemed obviously problematic, but the reputations of these people remained untarnished.

Trier was hailed as the next Nordic genius after Bergman, Fassbinder was a master of the New German Cinema, and Carax was undoubtedly a 100% pure art-house director.

It was just as well that back then Shawn Carter hadn’t seen the private lives of certain literary giants—many European writers had private lives that were a real mess.

Shawn Carter wanted to become someone like that—not to imitate the things those famous directors did, but to be a renowned director who could live freely, criticize whoever he wanted, walk away if he didn’t like something, and only accept interviews if he felt like it. If he didn’t want to work tomorrow, he could just skip it—what a thrill... Okay, enough, that’s going too far.

It was only after entering the entertainment industry that he realized things weren’t as simple as he’d imagined. Maybe geniuses really are different from ordinary people. Deep down, Shawn Carter believed he was a genius, someone who could stand shoulder to shoulder with the world’s best—he just needed a chance. But it seemed he was the only one who thought so. After struggling for years, he came to realize he was just another ordinary person among the masses. So his goal shifted to making a bit of money, striving to squeeze into high society, and then living a lowbrow life.

As Shawn Carter was sorting through his memories, a familiar voice sounded in his ear.

“Brother Shun, you skipped class again today, didn’t you?”

He looked toward the voice. The dorm room door opened and closed—it was his roommate, Ethan White. He was called Ethan White because both his personality and looks were as bland as plain water. As Ethan White put his book on the desk, he said, “The counselor just called us over and told us to let you know to go see him. It’s probably because you skipped class again. Watch your attitude—don’t make things harder for yourself.”

“Thanks,” Shawn Carter replied. “I’ll go in a bit.”

The original host was a real blockhead—a sophomore in the directing department at Beijing Film Academy, obsessed with making movies. Art students don’t necessarily come from wealthy families, but most directing majors do. For example, the original host’s family was well-off: his father owned a factory, his mother ran a publishing house, and with their support, he developed an interest in directing from a young age. He was also lucky enough to get into Beijing Film Academy.

That was a big deal. The original host thought he had learned everything—no, mastered it—and was just one step away from becoming a famous director. That step was hands-on experience, so he begged his parents to invest. Over two years, he shot four short films and one feature-length drama. Nearly three million yuan was spent, but not even a ripple was made. The short films got less than 100,000 views online in half a year, and the feature, with help from his teachers, managed to get a screening license, but the box office...

The original host, however, was undeterred by setbacks. He holed up in the dorm every day studying filmmaking techniques. Shawn Carter even wondered if the guy had burned himself out from too many late nights, which was why he’d ended up taking over his body.

This also led to—

“I know you’re passionate about film and willing to put in the work, but that’s no excuse for skipping class over and over,” the counselor, Kent Thompson, said, sounding both disappointed and stern. “I made this very clear to you last time.”

Shawn Carter recalled that the original host had already lost the right to take final exams due to excessive absences and was destined to retake the courses.

In fact, depending on how strict the school is, skipping class can have different consequences. At lenient schools, you could skip a third of your classes and still graduate, but unfortunately, Beijing Film Academy is one of the strict ones.

“If you keep this up, you won’t be able to graduate. Have you considered dropping out?” When the counselor Kent Thompson said this, his tone became even more serious.

Getting advised to drop out by the counselor right after transmigrating—how exciting! Before Shawn Carter could respond, the counselor suddenly changed the subject and asked, “How much did your film make at the box office?”

“Four hundred fifty-eight thousand seven hundred yuan,” Shawn Carter blurted out, his secondary profession’s thick skin coming in handy.

The counselor Kent Thompson coughed dryly and said, “The school recommends you drop out. Give me your decision by the end of this week.”

In other words, he had a week to pack up and leave. The first part was a suggestion, the second was an order.

Shawn Carter reached into his pocket, about to instinctively offer a cigarette, but the original host didn’t smoke, so he dropped the gesture and asked, “Is there any room for negotiation, counselor?”