Whether to pursue money or pursue dreams always seems to be the question people ask me: “You should be more realistic. Don’t make films. Don’t study art. That’s not a job that makes money.” Fortunately, after the explosion of the film industry in China, no one questioned the profitability of filmmaking anymore. Then they changed their tune: “Only the core creatives can make decent money. The chances are too slim. You can’t do it.” I said, I want to be a director.

I want to be a director—but why, really? I’m obsessed with film. Obsessed with watching, obsessed with reading, obsessed with watching others make them. Gradually, I started to feel more and more—if only I could make one too. What would happen if I tried this way? Or that way? Or this and that? What if the camera didn’t move that way? What if he didn’t walk in from that side? What would happen? Can I try? Can I get my hands on it?

I’ve never tried cocaine, but from what I’ve heard, it’s that feeling of extreme excitement and a flood of thoughts. If that’s the case, then I was probably high on cocaine at the time. So much so that later, when a resident doctor asked me, “Have you ever had a long period of being extremely excited, unable to sleep, feeling like you’re the strongest, most powerful person in the world?” I stammered—well, actually, yeah. I think it’s because most of my life had been so deeply depressive that once I finally let loose, I couldn’t stop. Or as my dad always said, “You don’t know moderation.” The doctor directly called it my first manic episode. He asked, how long did it last? I stammered again, unsure whether I should report it higher or lower. I decided to be honest: around half a year? He said, “Over two weeks is enough for a diagnosis.” I pressed, “But how do you know I have bipolar disorder? You weren’t there.” He said, “From your description—if everything you said is true—then it definitely is.” I thought, even though I studied how memory is subjective and inaccurate, is it really that inaccurate? I wasn’t sure.

I want to be a director. The version of me that was high on cinematic cocaine at the time clearly couldn’t contain my intense interest. I wasn’t trying to play the good student, but I really did stay in the office until midnight every day during the first month—because I honestly couldn’t understand the script. So many names, historical references, instruments used in ancient rituals… To be honest, I’d never read The Investiture of the Gods. And I had no idea why the character costumes or visual effects were designed in such specific ways.

That led to a long period of me being completely lost during cross-department meetings. I didn’t understand what people were talking about. I was struggling—couldn’t remember character names, couldn’t remember scenes, couldn’t understand some accents—which led my boss and coworkers to roll their eyes at me constantly. I didn’t expect it. I thought I was fluent in both Chinese and English. I thought I’d be fine. So I forced myself to dive deep into the script. I hadn’t even started to see the things I wanted to see—there’s no way I could let myself get fired this quickly.