"Now, let's give Miss Irene Coppola the warmest round of applause for graduating! May her future shine brighter than the California sun and sparkle more brilliantly than Hollywood's stars! Let's hear it!"
Thunderous applause erupted from the audience, nearly lifting the roof off the auditorium.
Standing at the podium, Irene took a gentle breath. Her gaze swept across the audience, where her family and friends smiled up at her.
Even her older sister Sophia, who was preparing to make her first film, had put work aside to come. They were all there to share in this momentous occasion.
Seventeen years earlier, Irene had come to Los Angeles from across the Pacific Ocean. But her story had actually begun much earlier—or, rather, in another life.
Back then, she had just made it through the gaokao. She thought she was finally about to take the wheel of her own life, only to be knocked off course by a car accident.
Before she could even find out her exam results, she received the news that her leg would have to be amputated. After that, even a score high enough to make 90 percent of the country's test-takers envious meant nothing. Her life was confined to a hospital bed from then on.
Her parents spent every penny of the compensation on her treatment. At first, they kept her company while searching for prosthetics and dreaming about the future. "Once you have one, you can still go to a top university. Your life will be just fine!"
But everything changed when the doctors diagnosed nerve damage below her waist and said she couldn't use a prosthetic at all. Her parents went from visiting every day to every three days, and then to once a month...
Later, she learned from a nurse that her mother was pregnant.
She didn't blame them. What parent could bear to watch the daughter they'd raised for more than a decade plunge into an abyss just as she was about to reach for the sky? At least the compensation was enough. She wouldn't have to become a burden on the family.
After her little sister was born, her parents all but disappeared from her hospital room. The only ones who kept her company each day were her caregivers—and an endless supply of films, TV shows, and novels.
Lying in bed, she often wondered: What would she be like in her next life? She hadn't done many good deeds. Would she still get a decent one?
Then she opened her eyes and really was a baby.
God must have been fair.
After forcing her previous life to end right at the start, He'd made up for it this time with a "luxury package": all her memories from her past life, plus an "Intracranial Cinema" that could replay any film she'd seen as many times as she wanted.
Now, life really did hold "infinite possibilities."
At first, she thought she'd been reborn into an ordinary Western family. But the "familiar names" that kept coming up at home gradually made her realize this family was no ordinary one.
Then, on her first birthday, her father told her, "You have a godfather now. His name is George Lucas."
Only then did it click: Coppola? As in that Coppola? Francis Ford Coppola, the legendary Hollywood director and the man behind The Godfather!
Unfortunately, with her memories from her past life, she still couldn't tell Westerners apart. When she was learning to talk, she often confused her own father with her godfather. What could she do? They both had huge beards!
Her family gradually realized that Irene seemed to have a bit of face blindness.
She couldn't explain, "I just haven't gotten used to foreign faces yet," so she had to take the blame.
But mistaking him for someone else only made her godfather George dote on her more. With two great directors fawning over her, she got to know Hollywood's inner circle even before her older sister Sophia. The Godfather Part III was filmed almost under her "supervision."
She accompanied her father Francis through the entire awards season, witnessing the Vanity Fair world's glitz and illusions. It only made her more certain of the path she wanted to take.
"Your application's already been submitted to USC. Getting in won't be a problem. But I'll still be shooting in the second half of the year, so I probably can't go with you to register."
George Lucas had just beaten Francis at Tetris and smugly won the right to present her with flowers and pose for photos onstage. "But as an honorary alumnus, I'd like to welcome you in advance!"
"Thanks for coming today, George. But honestly, you could've missed today's graduation ceremony. You have to show up for the one at USC." Irene smiled and hugged him tightly.
"This kind of opportunity doesn't come along often. Someone's so jealous, his eyes are turning red." George glanced toward someone in the audience.
Because Irene had often mixed up her godfather and her real father as a child, the two "fathers" had been quietly competing at every important occasion ever since: graduation photos, parent-teacher meetings, even attending elementary school events. At one point, her classmates all thought her last name was Lucas.
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"All right, whatever makes you happy." Irene had long since gotten used to these two "old boys" competing.
They stood onstage for a full three minutes, giving everyone plenty of time to take pictures, before finally making room for the students waiting behind them.
After the ceremony, Irene returned with her family to their estate in Napa Valley.
The Coppolas were a true film dynasty. Besides the famous Francis, nearly everyone in the family had carved out a place for themselves in Hollywood.
They gathered regularly to share industry news and make sure they stayed ahead of the curve. Today, they had the perfect excuse to come together: Irene's graduation.
Japanese lanterns cast a warm glow across the spacious lawn in the backyard. A jazz trio played softly in one corner.
Linen covered the long tables, which were laden with delicate appetizers, roasted lamb chops, and a graduation-themed cake. The men wore polo shirts or casual suits, while the women wore elegant dresses.
The air was filled with the scents of cigars, fine perfume, and freshly cut grass.
Irene wore her graduation gown open over a dress. A classic Tiffany starfish brooch sparkled on her left lapel.
Holding a cup of black tea, she stood at ease among her friends and family, accepting one round of congratulations after another.
"Irene, what are you planning to major in at college?"
"I thought everyone knew. I have to go into directing."
"No way! Hasn't George always wanted you to play his leading lady? I thought you might switch to acting! With a face like yours, you'd outshine half the actresses out there."
"Come on, that's just your family bias talking. My acting? I'm nowhere near Miss Portman's level."
"I disagree. You've always been my first choice." George Lucas joined the conversation, holding a glass of wine.
When he was preparing the Star Wars Prequel, he'd been set on casting Irene as Queen Amidala. Even the investors had approved, but Irene herself turned him down.
"George, I don't want to ruin your film. The investors and the fans would come after me." She gave a rueful smile.
In the Coppola family, the only one you could really call a "good actor" was her cousin Nicolas Cage. The rest? Disasters.
But George wouldn't give up. "It's basically a decorative role. It doesn't need much acting!"
"George, you know I've always wanted to be a director like you and Dad. My dream is to stand behind the monitor, not in front of the camera."
"Not even if I'm the director? I know what you're aiming for, but this really is a great opportunity. Even if you only acted in this one film, you'd become a household name in Hollywood overnight. Sometimes directors need fame to persuade investors, don't they?"
He had every reason to be confident. The title of "Star Wars leading lady" was enough to drive any young actress wild.
"George, I admit I was tempted... But since Miss Portman's been part of the production for so long, let's put it behind us, okay?"
She didn't regret her choice. She just occasionally wondered: Without the confidence her Intracranial Cinema gave her, would she have made a different one?
Just then, Francis tapped his glass. His booming, proud voice rang across the garden.
"Everyone, raise your glasses to our dearest Irene! May your future be everything you wish for—wide open, brilliant, and full of surprises! But never forget, this family will always have your back. To Irene!"
"To Irene! Congratulations!"
Irene looked around at the familiar faces. They represented power, legacy, and expectations. She felt proud, but also the weight of a future that seemed destined to shine—and whose shape was already clear.
Her smile remained radiant, yet it held a steadiness and understanding beyond her years.
"Thank you, everyone," she said, her voice clear and confident. "I wouldn't be here today without you. I'll do my best to make you proud."
Then she smiled and returned to her seat.
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