Sun Li, far away in the capital, also felt this shift. Teacher Miao Xia had become even more amiable toward her lately. She used to be like a teacher—gentle yet strict—but now she felt more like an older sister. Sun Li could sense that Miao Xia was genuinely helping her, hoping she would smoothly pass the exam to stay at the school. Miao Xia had asked Sun Li more than once when Zhou You would come, as she wanted to thank him in person.
Originally, Miao Xia thought she had taken on a small project to earn a bit of money, but ever since *A Bite of China* became a hit, she had gained fame too. As a music teacher at the conservatory, to be honest, she had no standout works to prove herself. Though she was a university instructor with her own training center, her influence had been limited to that. But now, it was different. Every time the documentary ended, her name appeared in the credits for the soundtrack. Many students, including former ones, school faculty, relatives, and friends, all asked if she had composed the music. They all said the soundtrack made the food even more appetizing!
During this time, the flood of greetings and attention she received was overwhelming. Student enrollment surged, and soundtrack commissions multiplied. More importantly, the school had opened a door for her—with this achievement, she could qualify for an associate professorship. So now, she was deeply grateful to Zhou You. If he hadn’t come to her back then, how could she have stumbled upon such an opportunity? She found Sun Li more and more agreeable. When Sun Li passed the exam next year to stay at the school, Miao Xia would be able to supervise graduate students, and she planned to take Sun Li on. As for failing the exam, that wasn’t even a consideration. Music graduate exams had few takers, and with her dedicated tutoring, success was almost 100%.
Zhou You knew that *A Bite of China* could sustain him for a long time, though future seasons 2 and 3 would decline in reputation until they collapsed. Whenever food documentaries were mentioned, *A Bite of China* was an unavoidable benchmark. Documentaries had a much longer lifespan than films—even ten years later, people would still revisit and discuss them with relish. A couple of days ago, when he visited his teacher’s home, he noticed a clear difference. Usually, the teacher did most of the talking, while his wife said little. But this time, she pulled him aside and chatted endlessly, captivated by the documentary and fascinated by the stories behind the food.
However, the documentary’s revenue wouldn’t arrive quickly. It was a process of continuous monetization—beyond this initial peak, there would be steady copyright income. But Zhou You didn’t care much about that anymore. According to Director Ren’s estimate, his share would be around 10 million yuan. That amount didn’t matter to Zhou You; it was far less profitable than his other investments. Yet the intangible gains were enormous—fame, honor, industry status, and lasting influence—things nothing else could match.
After the documentary became a hit, Zhou You didn’t go out of his way to promote it. Those who knew, knew; those who didn’t, he wouldn’t bring it up unless necessary. Once after class, he was chatting with students. “Teacher, you must have watched *A Bite of China*. When they filmed our area—the stinky mandarin fish and hairy tofu—it looked so delicious I wanted to eat it.” “I’ve seen it, and I’ve even eaten it. Old Huang made it for us himself. The stinky mandarin fish was okay, but I couldn’t get used to the hairy tofu,” Zhou You said honestly. A few students nearby looked skeptical, saying, “Teacher, you’re bragging.” Zhou You hadn’t wanted to say anything, but he had worked hard to build his credibility. If he got caught in a lie, it would be awkward. So he pulled out his phone and flipped to some photos. “Look, this is Old Huang’s stinky mandarin fish and hairy tofu, and this is their director, Director Ren.” Instantly, the whole class surged forward, crowding around the podium. Seeing the chaos, Zhou You quickly herded the students back to their seats. “Everyone, sit down. Since you’re all interested, I’ll share what I know.”
Zhou You often livened up his lectures with interesting stories from society, and the students always listened eagerly. But today was different—everyone was on the edge of their seats, eyes gleaming as they stared at him. “I’ve mentioned before that I love documentaries and have invested in a few. But *A Bite of China* might be the most well-known one.” “Investing in it was a stroke of luck, not as grand as you might imagine. But making documentaries is meaningful and valuable.” “We study library science, which is about preserving cultural materials. Documentaries preserve social history and human landscapes through images—it’s similar to our field.” “This documentary shot a huge amount of footage, but only seven episodes were edited. It took over a year, and every team worked incredibly hard to bring you such wonderful content.” “If you have any questions, feel free to ask. I’ll answer what I can.”
“Teacher, does making documentaries make money? Did you earn from this one?” a student asked. “You’re practical—that’ll serve you well. I’ll tell you: making documentaries doesn’t make money, but this one didn’t lose money.” The class burst into laughter, and the student blushed. Seeing them laugh, Zhou You sensed their naivety. “Laugh all you want, but you need to face reality. That student is right. You all rely on your parents for money now, but after graduation, you’ll have to earn your own. That’s a very real issue.” “Everyone needs to eat, drink, and have a place to live. Only after meeting those needs can you afford to pursue your interests—like my love for documentaries, or your hobbies like painting, travel, or music.”
Some sharper students caught the implication. “Teacher, are you saying you’ve already met those basic needs?” “Of course. Otherwise, why would I be a teacher?” Zhou You didn’t hold back. “For me, teaching is a hobby, an interest, a side gig. Seeing you all makes me happy, and I enjoy connecting with young people.” The students listened, mesmerized, as if they’d stumbled onto a juicy secret. “Teacher, teacher, can you tell us about your main job?” they clamored. “I have many main jobs. The key is to take it easy, with some investments on the side. I’ll tell you more gradually, and you’ll learn as you go.” Zhou You had picked up the old teacher’s trick—doling out information bit by bit. If he satisfied their curiosity all at once, who would pay attention next time? Hearing this, the students quieted down.
Facing these young, untested souls, Zhou You couldn’t resist recommending a documentary. “When you go home, watch a documentary called *7 Up*. It’s a great one. After you’ve seen it, we can discuss it in the next class, and I’ll share a bit about my main work.”