Chapter Twenty: The Troupe's Debut Performance (Part One)

For Cui Jingfang, the events of that morning were a rare experience in her life, but looking back, she realized just how dangerous it had truly been.

In fact, at the time, she hadn’t felt particularly nervous; she even sensed a thrill. It wasn’t that she was abnormal, but rather that she felt as if she were on a film set. As the most renowned “acting fanatic” in the entire Capital Film Academy, and indeed the whole Republic’s film community, Cui Jingfang had never known fear. To play a madwoman convincingly, she once lived in a psychiatric hospital for a month; to portray a beggar, she genuinely knelt and begged in the city streets; she even spent time among zookeepers and big cats for a role as an animal trainer. Such a woman, whose life was defined by her craft and who, in her forties, had yet to marry, truly felt no fear that morning. In fact, she was already plotting her next move—perhaps calmly persuading the criminal to abandon his plan, or perhaps transforming into a heroine and disarming him barehanded.

What she hadn’t expected was that the criminal would immediately set the fire after taking her hostage.

As for Zhang San and "Li Si", who came to her rescue, Cui Jingfang was deeply grateful. While she might seem a little “crazy,” she was certainly not insane; at the very least, she felt these two had given her a greater chance to experience life itself.

After meeting Wang Lei, her desire to help Zhang San, "Li Si," and the others only grew stronger. Here was a disabled boss, two employees forced to intercept people at the gates of the film academy, and Wang Lei himself dressed in wrinkled clothes. Yet this group persisted in running a small theater—something rare in the capital city. Their dedication to acting was evident, and Cui Jingfang felt that even if Zhang San and "Li Si" hadn’t saved her, she would still have wanted to help such people if she met them.

Originally, Wang Lei thought Zhang San and "Li Si" had already impressed him with their bravery, but what excited him even more was that they had rescued a professor from the Film Academy—this could solve a major problem for the theater. With such a ragtag troupe, Wang Lei had been unsure whether their new play could be staged by the end of the year, but now, with Cui Jingfang’s help, perhaps they could perform it as soon as October.

After they finished giving their statements at the police station, Cui Jingfang insisted on visiting the theater with Wang Lei and his two colleagues. Wang Lei was candid and led the way, while Zhang San and "Li Si" felt a bit embarrassed; after all, Professor Cui was a professional, and they were grassroots amateurs, worlds apart.

Upon arrival, they found the same makeshift office separated by composite boards, starkly contrasting with the well-equipped stage. This pleased Cui Jingfang even more, for she could feel the passion these people had for theater.

She accepted the script Wang Lei handed her. Though it was riddled with errors in format and scheduling, she read it carefully and with joy. This grassroots troupe, guided by professional standards, had adapted a drama with genuine spirit. To be honest, even in many major productions, she’d never felt such an atmosphere. Her decision to teach at the academy was partly because so many external film crews had become restless and mercenary.

After finishing the script, Cui Jingfang immediately decided: not only could she find suitable actors among her students, she could also help during rehearsals. She suggested bringing in professional screenwriters for simple revisions, at least to improve the scene arrangements and formatting. She even offered to introduce two excellent makeup artists and prop masters to the Dream Theater; though they couldn’t work full-time, having such connections was already a windfall. Their current makeup artist, after all, doubled as a wedding consultant.

A series of good news left Wang Lei and his colleagues almost at a loss for words. Zhang San and "Li Si" had indeed saved Cui Jingfang, and her appropriate gratitude was expected, but what she offered now far exceeded mere thanks. Her demeanor showed genuine enthusiasm to participate in Dream Theater’s work, which was Wang Lei’s greatest surprise and delight.

“Professor Cui, you truly are our savior,” Wang Lei said. “Honestly, we’re just a ragtag troupe, but our actors all pursue their dreams with perseverance. They may not look outstanding, but every one of them has the heart of an actor.”

No one felt the impact of Cui Jingfang’s generosity more than Zhang San. When he first came to the capital with tens of millions in investment, he was in the limelight—famous directors and big stars flocked around him, making him feel at home in the industry. Yet after the glamour faded, all that remained were a ruined liver and stacks of IOUs. He’d once sneered at the “academic elitism” of Film Academy graduates, but after learning the industry’s inner workings, he discovered how responsible and chaotic it truly was. The academic types might not have the best acting skills, but their foundations were solid, and they followed the rules more diligently.

Cui Jingfang was touched by Zhang San’s heartfelt words. She hadn’t yet met the theater’s actors, but with such a boss and leadership, she could imagine what kind of employees they must have. In truth, the script she’d just read might not be brilliant, but its core theme was clear, its performance traits distinct, and it was a comedy close to real life. In terms of creativity and detail, it was quite good. Nowadays, the artistic ones are too arty, and the commercial ones too commercial; works that are close to life and meaningful are increasingly rare.

Yet in this humble troupe, Cui Jingfang had found a good story, and she couldn’t help but see the group before her in a new light.

“In fact, the one who should be thanking you is me,” she said. “If it hadn’t been for you this morning, I might already be in the intensive care unit of Jishuitan Hospital. Of course, my willingness to help isn’t just for that reason. I truly believe your theater has great potential. Who knows? If ever I find myself out of work, I might come here for a meal—so don’t turn me away then!”

Cui Jingfang had a way with words, quickly closing the distance between them. Though her reputation as an “acting fanatic” had nearly ended her career, she was still adept at dealing with people. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have become a professor at the Capital Film Academy.