After returning from Jiangcheng, Zhou You slipped into a state of laziness. Aside from his daily classes, he spent his time swimming at the pool. Occasionally, he went for a morning run, but after experiencing the benefits of Baduanjin, he made it a point to practice it twice a day. However, as his training deepened, Zhou You felt the effects were somewhat lacking. He was practicing a simplified version promoted in later years, so he planned to seek out an expert to learn the complete version soon.
In between, he took a trip to Shanghai specifically to visit Xiao Bai. He also had to go to Shanghai in June or July because the Shanghai Documentary Film Festival was starting. By then, *A Bite of China* would have aired, and attending the film festival would allow him to network with many directors.
Wang Fangfang was the happiest during this time, as Zhou You often stayed home with her, letting her fully enjoy the pleasures of dating. Taking advantage of this period, Zhou You also reread the books he had bought earlier, gaining deep insights. Books like these offered fresh perspectives with each reading, always bringing new understanding.
Zhou You was also becoming more adept at teaching. Facing these fresh college students, he had a firm grasp of their psychology. Combined with his growing reputation, hardly any students skipped his classes now, and everyone liked him. Besides not sticking rigidly to the textbook, he often shared interesting and fun stories, and after class, he frequently entertained their curious questions. The teacher-student relationship was harmonious and joyful.
Zhou You truly enjoyed this simple dynamic. In the classroom, he was just a teacher imparting knowledge and nurturing minds. The students respected and liked him because he was witty, humorous, and broad-minded, not because he was an investor with money!
As class ended, he checked his phone and saw a missed call. He always kept it on silent during lessons. Seeing it was Director Ren, he called back: "Director Ren, what's up?"
"It's almost time for the show to air. I wanted to let our investor know—feel free to check it out if you're interested. But the initial broadcast slot isn't great; it's at night. You can take a look then, Mr. Zhou," Director Ren said briefly.
"Alright, I'll definitely watch it," Zhou You replied.
He figured he would watch it, but the first airing time was poor—11 p.m. on CCTV-1, when almost no one was watching. Nowadays, young people preferred watching on computers or streaming online, while older folks couldn't stay up that late and went to bed early. That's why *A Bite of China* relied on its solid quality and meticulous craftsmanship to spread widely. Zhou You understood this well—from project approval to filming completion, it took over a year, enough time to finish several movies. It was word-of-mouth that gradually turned things around.
Still, as his first documentary investment and the most important one to him, he had to at least catch the beginning. Wang Fangfang had also been involved with this documentary, so she was excited too, staying up with Zhou You until 11 p.m.
Seeing the opening credits felt familiar—a pair of chopsticks and a piece of fatty meat—and the narration was soothing. The first episode: "Gifts of Nature." The title was well-chosen, full of humanistic emotion. As a food lover, the delightful taste of food was worth savoring, but where did it come from? Undoubtedly, we obtain all our food from nature. Before entering the kitchen or sitting at the table, let's return to nature and see her initial gifts to us.
This episode featured individuals, families, and communities living in vastly different geographical environments across the country—oceans, grasslands, mountains, basins, and lakes. It highlighted how extreme natural conditions like drought, humidity, heat, and cold shaped distinct eating habits and lifestyles. It showed how nature provides food to the Chinese people in diverse ways and how we coexist harmoniously with it, revealing stories of obtaining food through generations-old traditions.
Just these few words set the background clearly, sparking curiosity. Everyone knew the sources of local ingredients, but what about other regions—plateaus, slopes, deserts? How did people get food there? The cinematography was grand, with a touch of time-lapse transitions in nature shots. Thanks to Zhou You's millions in investment, the visual quality was elevated further.
China boasts the most dramatic natural landscapes—plateaus, mountains, forests, lakes, and coastlines. This geographical span aids species formation and preservation. To receive nature's gifts, people gather, pick, dig, and fish across the seasons. This episode revealed the stories of people and nature behind delicious food.
In Shangri-La, among the mixed forests of pines and oaks, Zhuoma searched for an elf-like food—matsutake mushrooms. With a shelf life of only two days, merchants processed them swiftly, so a single mushroom could appear in Tokyo's market within 24 hours. At 3 a.m. in the matsutake-producing area, Danzhen Zhuoma and her mother set off on her father's motorcycle. Passing through the village, the mother-daughter duo walked 30 kilometers into the primeval forest. Rain spurred wild fungi growth, but every Tibetan had an eye for matsutake. After harvesting, Zhuoma immediately covered the pit with pine needles to protect the mycelium, following the forest's rules to sustain nature's gifts. Over the two-month matsutake season, Zhuoma and her mother earned 5,000 yuan—a reward for their hard work.
Watching this, Zhou You rubbed his chin. He wasn't a big eater, but this had already caught his attention—he wanted to taste matsutake!
He continued watching.
Old Bao, from Zhejiang, had a bamboo forest that produced the largest winter bamboo shoot in Suichang. Hidden beneath the soil, nothing showed on the surface, but Old Bao could pinpoint the shoot's location just by the color of the bamboo leaves—a skill honed by experience.
Seeing these familiar people and stories, Zhou You felt like he was back watching this documentary for the first time. For someone curious about the world, it was captivating, holding his gaze.
But the later episodes he barely finished—they lacked novelty, merely patching up the original. Especially later, when food documentaries proliferated, Zhou You grew tired of them. Opening the documentary channel, the screen was flooded with food, especially during holidays. At first, it was fresh, but soon it led to aesthetic fatigue and loss of appetite.
After watching, Zhou You knew this documentary was solid. Now, he just had to wait for it to blow up.
Lately, he had learned the tortoise's way: when it's time to retreat, retreat.