The Best Director - Chapter 1
Chapter 1: Chapter 1: The Student Expelled from the University of Southern California
Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
“Don’t worry, I’m doing fine. Please, Mom, you know as well as I do that the weather in Los Angeles is almost the same as in San Francisco, how could I possibly be cold?” Wang Yang held the receiver, leaning against the phone booth, looking out at the campus scenery while pretending to be excitedly laughing, “Just a few days ago, I saw Robert Zemeckis. Yes! The director of ‘Forrest Gump.’ He’s an alumnus of the University of Southern California and was invited by our president to give a lecture. It was amazing, that day I talked to him for a long time, oh, he’s very approachable, really a nice guy…”
It was April, and the weather in Los Angeles was warm and pleasant, gradually leaving the cold winter rains behind to step into the hot summer. The lawn of the USC School of Cinematic Arts was a lush green, with young students scattered about lying on the grass, either reading or chatting, and some fiddling with DV cameras—a vibrant and upward scene.
“Hm, I’ve got to go help out on a set in a bit… ah, speak of the devil, my classmate is calling me to head out, gotta hang up, bye!”
As soon as he hung up the receiver, Wang Yang let out a long sigh of relief, his face immediately shifting from joy to dejection, watching the leisurely students on the lawn, he couldn’t help but scratch his head in annoyance, and mutter a defeated curse: “Shit!”
He tightened the trench coat around him, picked up a cardboard box filled with assorted items from the ground, and walked step by step toward the exit of the school, occasionally looking back longingly at the beautiful surroundings. USC School of Cinematic Arts was supposed to be the place where his dreams took flight, but now, all was ruined.
Wang Yang was a Chinese American; his grandfather had immigrated to America and started a Chinese restaurant in San Francisco’s Chinatown. The restaurant had been passed down to his father and had remained in business until today. However, despite the efforts of two generations, the “family business” had not grown but rather had become even more run-down, barely getting by on the business of neighbors and acquaintances, having been on the brink of closure for many years.
Although Wang Yang had grown up in the restaurant, he had no interest in cooking; he was incredibly passionate about movies instead. At the age of nine, after watching ‘Cinema Paradiso,’ he was determined to be a director! Well, back then, he thought being a projectionist like old man Alfredo was the same as being a director.
In any case, from that point on, he had been moving towards that goal, and he had succeeded—he entered the University of Southern California’s School of Cinematic Arts at 18, majoring in film and television production. Everything was moving in a positive direction until that incident happened.
It had happened a week ago, and then he was expelled, during his second semester as a freshman, expelled.
Thinking about the causes and consequences, Wang Yang sighed helplessly, his head throbbing with frustration. Originally, after completing his bachelor’s at USC, he could have gone on to pursue a master’s degree or found work as an assistant director to gain experience while waiting for the opportunity to become a director. But with his expulsion, the dream of becoming a director was slipping further away.
“Hey, isn’t that our Chinese guy (Chink)? Where are you rushing off to?” A group of young people walked over from the lawn, four boys and two girls, with all but one of the boys being white, the other being black. The blond white guy in front, laughing with a smile, imitated a monkey’s dance while making strange noises: “Ping-pang, Ping-pang? Ching-chong, Ching-chong?”
Following his strange noises, the rest of the group burst into laughter, their faces full of mockery and disdain, looking down on Wang Yang.
Even though Wang Yang was American, this was far from the first time he had heard such words. He loved his yellow skin and black eyes, he loved Chinese characters, loved Chinese food, and cherished Chinese culture; he had never discriminated against anyone and deeply despised racial prejudice. Yet, the reason he was expelled was rooted in racial discrimination.
It was all a miscarriage of justice. One day, facing the same situation as now, he was insulted and provoked by a black classmate, who even cursed his mother. Unable to tolerate any more, he lost control of his emotions and in a rage he hit the person.
The black classmate’s name was Terrence Ben, a burly figure, yet Wang Yang had learned Bajiquan since he was a child from a master in Chinatown. Although not a martial arts expert, handling a brute like Terrence was no problem. As he knocked Terrence down, Wang Yang cursed, “Is this what you wanted? Fuck!”
Unfortunately, that “Fuck you!” was overheard by a teacher who came at the sound of the commotion, and that teacher was a black man, Gary Martin.
Afterwards, Terrence Ben accused him first, twisting the story, insisting that Wang Yang had verbally abused him and then added insult to injury with his fists. Although Wang Yang tried desperately to explain his side, there were no bystanders on the lawn at the time to testify for him; however, Terrence Ben had black teacher Gary Martin to vouch for him, leading the school authorities to believe Terrence’s account over Wang Yang’s, and Wang Yang was expelled.
Ironically, now he faced people encircling him with “racial discrimination,” yet no one stood up for justice on his behalf.
“Hey, Bruce Lee, what do you want, a banana? Oh, have some!” A blonde named Matthew performed a few pelvic-thrusting gestures, teasing, “Come on, I know what you like!”
The other five young people laughed out loud as well. They all knew about Wang Yang’s expulsion and so took the opportunity to ridicule him. It wasn’t that Wang Yang had wronged them; it was merely his Asian identity that made him a target of entertainment for these idle folks.
Call a black person “N-Word,” and it goes to court as racial discrimination; but call an Asian “Chink” or “Chinaman,” and it’s seldom seen as such. This is the other side of this highly democratic, equality-advocating country.
“OK, you’ve angered me.” Wang Yang slowly put down the cardboard box and suddenly stepped forward, grabbing the smirking Matthew by the collar, “You have two choices, apologize or I send you to the hospital.”
“Oh, Chinese boy, you want to hit me?” Matthew’s freckled face flashed with a hint of panic, but he feigned calmness, “If you want to go to jail, go ahead and make your move.”
Wang Yang laughed, his tone neither angered nor flustered, “If you want to become a priest, I can kick your ‘eggs’ to kingdom come.”
Remembering how Terrence Ben, with his quarterback build, ended up looking like a swine’s head at the hands of Wang Yang before him, Matthew couldn’t help but swallow hard. The three men and two women next to him also grew tense, starting to chant “Hey, calm down, calm down,” but after Wang Yang glanced at them from the corner of his eye, they quieted a bit, worried that they might get beaten too.
“All right, you can focus on serving God now.” Wang Yang’s expression changed, and before he had finished speaking, he tugged hard with one hand while feigning a kick with his right leg.
Matthew was startled and yelled, “Wait, wait!” He struggled vigorously while shouting, “I apologize, I apologize! My fault, my fault!”
Oh! Along with Matthew’s five accomplices, the new onlookers all slapped their foreheads, expressing dissatisfaction with Matthew’s apology by saying “COME ON”.
“Are you an asshole?” Wang Yang’s voice remained calm, but the murderous look in his eyes quashed any thoughts Matthew had of resisting. Matthew wanted to end it quickly and nodded, “Um, I am, I am…” Wang Yang asked, “You are what?” Deflated, Matthew said, “Asshole…”
Boos erupted all around, Matthews’s companions rolled their eyes, and a few blonde women whispered and snickered, causing Matthew to feel a moment of humiliation and his face turned red.
Wang Yang smiled slightly and gently patted Matthew’s cheek, saying, “Babe, you want to kill me? Bring a gun!” With that, he pushed Matthew with force, and Matthew staggered and stumbled backward.
Amidst a chorus of jeers, Wang Yang picked up the cardboard box from the ground and walked towards the campus exit. As he was about to leave the campus, he stopped and looked back at the school he had long admired and was now leaving with sadness, “Goodbye, old towering trees; goodbye, soft green lawns…” He took a deep breath and strode forward.
Where to go? Wang Yang, holding the cardboard box, wandered aimlessly on the streets of Los Angeles. Traffic was flowing on the roads, people were moving about, and the sound of traffic lights “dinging” kept ringing. Wang Yang stood at the intersection, lost, not knowing where to go.
The news of his expulsion from school had been kept a secret from his parents through great effort, for he was certain he would be forced to go back to San Francisco and, then, take over the “family business,” becoming the third-generation chef of the restaurant.
“Dealing with groceries all day? No way!” Wang Yang shook his head and shouted in his heart, “All of my efforts and dreams over the years have been to become an outstanding director, to make great movies. And now, because of a false accusation, I should go back and look after a failing restaurant?!”
He recalled the ecstasy of being admitted to the University of Southern California, the congratulations and envious looks of his friends, the caring and expectant gaze of his parents who wanted to encourage him yet feared pressuring him, and that phrase, “Son, if you can’t make it in Los Angeles, come back to San Francisco, the spoon in the restaurant is waiting for you to take over…”
Oh God, just thinking of going back and hearing his parents say, “Son, I knew you couldn’t make movies, you might as well stay in the restaurant and cook,” was enough for Wang Yang to scream out loud—it’d be better to be hit by a car and killed!
Shit! Wang Yang laughed at himself, “Although I love to eat Chinese food, I don’t want to be a chef!” I refuse to go back in disgrace, to be teased by friends and receive disappointing consolation from my parents! I won’t give up!
Just as Wang Yang was encouraging himself, walking halfway across the street, a woman pushing a baby carriage suddenly lost her grip, and the carriage uncontrollably crashed into his backside with a bang. Caught off guard, Wang Yang was knocked forward, the cardboard box flying from his hand, scattering its contents everywhere.
“Oh! God!” The onlookers covered their mouths in shock as the unbuckled baby bounced out of the carriage and flew through the air!
With a thud, Wang Yang hit the ground hard; another thud, and the baby landed right on his head, safe and sound.
So dizzy… Wang Yang could only feel a wave of dizziness and his vision blurred with illusions, not even knowing what had hit him, his mind filled with just one thought—am I going to die?
