There were countless successful people in the world, yet compared to the masses of the mediocre, they remained only a rare few.
And so, many placed blind faith in them, trying desperately to copy their paths to success.
It was this need that gave rise to a swarm of so-called gurus of success. In North America especially, these self-proclaimed teachers of achievement were everywhere.
They paraded the deeds of the successful to preach their theories, lining their own pockets, while never truly teaching people how to attain success themselves.
Everyone already knew the basics: success came from hard work and talent. Later, people learned that connections, family background, and networks were equally crucial. But what almost never got mentioned was the single most fundamental cause of a successful person's rise.
That was why these "gurus" were so infuriating. They would strip away the key conditions, simplify the complexities, and erase the messy details behind achievement.
The truth was, many of these gurus didn't even want to speak from the heart. In fact, most of them had never been successful themselves.
Instead, they clung to the stories of others, spinning illusions. Their favorite example? Gilbert.
Guo Fan was stepping on North American soil for the first time. Weeks had passed since the scandal of the impostor trainees, and back in China the situation was as chaotic as if a storm had swept through.
But the five students who had remained abroad, unlike the twenty who had fallen, managed to keep themselves clean. Minister Tian even praised them, calling them steadfast and loyal to their purpose, urging them to learn well and promising bright futures when they returned.
With that assurance, the five finally relaxed.
Otherwise, had they gone unscathed while so many others fell, they would have instantly become targets—hated and resented, marked for suppression and exile.
And there was no doubt about it: the world thrived on blending into the dust. If most had sinned and you hadn't, then you were the one at fault.
Sometimes it seemed absurd. Everyone could commit the same wrongdoing, but if you stuck to your conscience and obeyed the rules, somehow you became the guilty one. And there was nowhere to appeal.
Now, however, such worries seemed to fade.
Guo Fan received a call from his close friend Liu Ji, who told him the entertainment industry back home was like a forest trembling in the wind. Those who had misbehaved were all being purged.
By the time Guo Fan returned, even if the industry wasn't fully cleansed, at least he no longer had to fear being strangled by those small private circles.
The people capable of blacklisting others had been taken down—some imprisoned, others retreating from the scene altogether. Those left behind cowered like turtles in their shells, likely to stay quiet for years to come.
"Old Guo," Liu Ji said over the line, his voice still tinged with disbelief, "I really admire you. You've got such discipline, such persistence.
And to think, I once tried to convince you to sell your spot to those with money and power. I didn't expect things to blow up like this. I wronged you, brother."
Back when the group had been chosen to study in America, though Guo Fan had fairly earned his qualification, many greedy eyes turned to his slot, eager to buy it.
Even Liu Ji had tried to persuade him, reminding him that survival in the domestic industry required compromise—you couldn't afford to offend the powerful.
But Guo Fan had refused to yield. Liu Ji had thought him stubborn to a fault, worried his brother would end up blacklisted for life.
Yet the turn of events had stunned them both. Not only did Guo Fan keep his chance to study abroad, but he'd also secured a safer return.
Ashamed, Liu Ji apologized profusely and even asked for advice:
"How did you know Gilbert would take this matter seriously?"
Guo Fan only gave a bitter smile.
"I didn't know. I just stayed true to myself—I refused to go along with the rot.
As for Director Gilbert, he's not one of our so-called 'insiders.' Of course he wouldn't tolerate such filth."
To Guo Fan, Gilbert's response was perfectly understandable. Even if the director didn't particularly care about how a handful of Chinese trainees performed, there was no way he would ever accept deception.
In ancient China, deceiving the emperor was a capital crime. Great figures hated nothing more than being lied to. Compared to that, Gilbert's reaction was merciful.
Still, for the sake of international reputation, the authorities back home had no choice but to handle it severely. Otherwise, the monsters would've kept dancing unchecked—and then it truly would've been Guo Fan's ruin.
After weeks of study abroad, Guo Fan felt that while he might not yet have mastered every skill, his English had improved by leaps and bounds.
Through conversations, he also heard countless stories about Gilbert. The once-mysterious image of the director was now gradually forming into something vivid and complete.
Among the five students, there was another like him—Li Haoyang, one of the rare few who had won his place by merit rather than connections.
He and Guo Fan had grown close, often working side by side in the directing department, their duties intertwined.
One day, while Alfonso Cuarón, Tsui Hark, and Jackie Chan were locked in a discussion on filming techniques, the two slipped out for a breather.
"This grind every day is exhausting," Li Haoyang groaned, brushing the dust from a nearby ledge before dropping down onto it without a care.
"But the gains are huge," Guo Fan replied, sitting beside him. "We've learned more here in these weeks than I ever did in film school."
Li Haoyang shook his head, frowning.
"Still, will any of this even be useful back home? Look at Ma Qiang and the others—they're having a much easier time.
Ma Qiang even tried to hook up with some foreign girl, but she dumped him right away, said he was too young."
Guo Fan was speechless, then tried to persuade him. "We're in the directing department. Of course, our work is harder than theirs—we're dealing with the very core of Hollywood filmmaking.
They might afford to slack off, but we can't."
There was a sense of responsibility weighing on Guo Fan. With all the chaos back home, the fact that they alone had come out unscathed—it wasn't just luck. It was a responsibility, and he felt bound to live up to it. He had to learn well.
"Besides," Guo Fan added, "Ma Qiang actually takes things seriously. Every night after wrap, back at the hotel, I've seen his notebook filled with notes.
It's just that sometimes you can't change bad habits—that's something beyond anyone's control."
In the film industry, Guo Fan was the kind of person considered ordinary. Li Haoyang was slightly better off—his father had once worked in a state film studio.
But Ma Qiang and the other two were different. Like the twenty-plus who had already been sent home, they all came from families with influence in the film world.
The difference was that these three actually had some real ability. Maybe their answers just happened to suit Gilbert's tastes.
Truthfully, compared to The Adventures of Jackie Chan, which was steeped in Chinese cultural flavor, Guo Fan longed more to join Gilbert's set, to learn under him directly.
But chances like that didn't come every day—especially not for outsiders like them.
At moments like this, Guo Fan couldn't help but envy the older generation who had once worked on The Lord of the Rings. To have had the opportunity to be part of such a monumental project was like touching history itself.
He had gone to the theaters to watch each film of the trilogy. Even then, he had wondered how movies of that scale could possibly have been made.
Later, he had even traveled to the shooting locations of The Lord of the Rings, visiting the sacred grounds of that project. It truly felt like a pilgrimage. Though, truth be told, everything in that "holy land" was expensive—whether water or food.
The two were still chatting when someone suddenly said: "Director Gilbert is here?"
"Really?" Guo Fan and Li Haoyang turned their heads at once, and sure enough, Gilbert had arrived.
Both The Adventures of Jackie Chanand Flase were being shot in the same studio, and as the producer of The Adventures of Jackie Chan, Gilbert often dropped by to check on things.
The timing was perfect. Guo Fan and Li Haoyang hurried forward to greet him.
Gilbert gave them a simple nod, and for once, he showed a rare hint of concern for the students' progress.
"How are you finding life in the crew?"
Guo Fan smiled shyly. "It's been great. I've learned so many useful things—knowledge you could never find in books."
"Good," Gilbert sighed, his voice tinged with a hint of disappointment. "Old Tian sent you here hoping for real communication and exchange, at the very least for you to broaden your horizons. What a pity…"
...
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