Zhao Yun and Chen Weijun sat chatting idly in the café.
"Brother Chen, wait until Zhou You gets here, you'll see. I never thought there were still people like this nowadays. Otherwise, I wouldn't have brought him to meet you."
"Really? There's still someone willing to selflessly fund a documentary? We're both backed by big names, and I've got a bit of a reputation myself, yet even pulling resources and finding investors is a struggle." Chen Weijun looked incredulous.
"How could it be fake? The documentary I'm shooting now is entirely sponsored by him. I don't even have a finished work yet—we just hit it off talking, and he offered to fund it. Originally, it was half, but a couple of days ago, he got excited and covered the whole thing." Zhao Yun also wore a look of disbelief.
"But he's not stupid. In our line of work, idealism still runs strong. Otherwise, why would he come all this way just because I made a phone call? I don't know his exact net worth, but it's at least tens of millions. From what I know, he's already invested tens of millions." Zhao Yun held his coffee, watching Chen Weijun's stunned expression.
"So what's he after? We shoot documentaries out of curiosity, sometimes for fame, as a way of life." Chen Weijun was puzzled.
"I've talked to him about this. Honestly, outsiders see us as crazy too, just like when you filmed AIDS patients—how many people would do that?" Zhao Yun explained.
"True, we're all crazy. No one should judge anyone else. We turn down money, leave our families, wander around with cameras all day, can't earn enough to support ourselves. We're the lucky ones with steady jobs and income; others have it worse." So many people have dreams, only to have them crushed by reality.
As they talked, Zhou You walked in.
Zhao Yun quickly stood up and waved: "Zhou You, over here."
Chen Weijun also rose. He was slightly chubby, wore glasses, and was dressed in casual clothes.
He sized up Zhou You—after all, shooting documentaries is all about observing people.
Zhou You was also in casual sportswear, with a crew cut. Nothing he wore seemed branded, and he had glasses on. He didn't have the scholarly air of a university teacher, but his smile was infectious. Overall, he gave off a vibrant, comfortable, and spirited vibe as a young man.
Zhou You hurried over and extended his hand: "Director Chen, I've long admired you. I've seen your *Better to Live Than Not* and *Please Vote for Me*. I've been wanting Zhao Yun to introduce us, and I'm finally lucky enough to meet you."
"Professor Zhou, you're too kind. I'll call you Professor Zhou. Zhao Yun has mentioned you, and I have great respect for you. Meeting you today, your presence is truly impressive—I can't help but feel the urge to shoot a documentary about you." Chen Weijun was witty and humorous.
The three sat down and chatted.
"Director Chen, are you planning to shoot a new documentary soon? I really enjoy documentaries rooted in reality that reflect social life." Zhou You asked curiously, like a reader urging an author to update.
"I do have one in the works, co-produced with the BBC. I'm handling the Chinese segment, focusing on education. It's different from Xiao Zhao's—we have different focuses."
"What's it about? Can you share? I'm genuinely interested." Zhou You was curious.
"Everyone knows there are rich and poor in this world, but why the rich are rich—we can't capture that. Why the poor are poor—we can still discuss. The BBC selected several directors worldwide to shoot this theme. My part is on education. Other regions, like Africa, Europe, and the US, are filming from different angles, including birth, national systems, and social environments."
Chen Weijun took a sip of coffee, seeing Zhou You listening intently, and continued.
"It's a public-interest documentary that will be distributed globally for free. I've chosen a few subjects still in production: one is about private school enrollment, another about rural kids with poor college entrance exam results choosing schools, and a third about graduates from third-tier colleges looking for jobs."
Hearing this, Zhou You understood. This must be the BBC documentary *Why Poverty?*
Chen Weijun's segment, also called *The Way Out*, reveals a corner of education, but even that corner exposes a brutal reality.
As Zhou You knew, is studying useful? Yes, it is, but only if you get into a good university with a good major.
Attending a private college or vocational school, unless it's a standout program, is mostly useless—a waste of time and money, and it can easily lead you astray.
After all, college years are often the happiest time in life.
No pressure, free, and passionate.
But once you taste the sweetness of college and enjoy life's freedom, you're unwilling to endure hardship again—or at least, meaningless hardship.
It's easy to end up with high aspirations but low capabilities, stuck in between.
A classmate of Zhou You once said: "If I hadn't gone to college and just started working, I might be better off, because I never knew sweetness. But now that I've tasted it, hardship feels truly bitter."
Giving people hope and then taking it away is crueler than killing someone's spirit.
"Director Chen, Brother Zhao probably told you I'm really into documentaries, especially realistic and humanistic ones. Does this film have funding? If not, I can chip in a bit, but not much—I've been investing in a lot of projects lately." Zhou You said sincerely.
"The BBC covers some costs. Professor Zhou, don't worry about it. We shoot documentaries without expecting to make money—it's purely a passion."
"I know, it's my passion too. That's why I really understand documentary filmmakers. I help where I can. Let me sponsor you with 100,000 yuan for now. If it's not enough, we can talk later." Zhou You thought for a moment. Based on his memory, the shoot was short, so it should be enough.
Chen Weijun was stunned. Who gives money on a first meeting? But he was deeply moved and could clearly see Zhou You's genuine love for documentaries.
"Reputation is one thing, but meeting you in person is even better. Zhao Yun has talked about you a lot, but dealing with you directly is truly impressive. I can feel your sincerity."
Zhou You waved his hand. "It's not as dramatic as you say. Everyone has hobbies. Compared to the time, effort, and money you put in, I'm just offering a little help within my means. Besides, I have a request—when you edit the film, could you cut a longer version just for me?"
Some people find documentaries too long, others too short. For a good documentary, Zhou You preferred the longer cut—it gave him deeper insights and satisfied his curiosity more.