Only after Song Shi'an arrived at the park with the three dogs did he discover that this lawn was practically a designated dog-walking area.
All kinds of dogs romped across the grass, while their owners stood nearby chatting in twos and threes.
He had just brought the three dogs into the shade of a tree when a woman in sportswear walked over, crouched down, and stroked the golden retriever's head.
"Doudou's here." The golden retriever wagged its tail and rubbed against her legs. Clearly, they were already old acquaintances.
The woman looked up at the person holding the leashes and discovered that instead of the familiar owner, it was a young man wearing a mask. "Oh? You are?"
"I'm helping walk the dogs," Song Shi'an said.
The woman's eyes lit up. She stood and looked him up and down. Three large dogs-two huskies and a golden retriever-sat obediently under his control, neither making trouble nor pulling on their leashes.
These three dogs were famously energetic around here.
Even walking them separately usually meant getting dragged into a run, yet this young man could somehow keep all three under control at once. "There's a service like this? These three have so much energy, but you can actually manage them. Can we exchange contact details? Could I ask you next time I don't have time?"
Song Shi'an's eyes lit up, and he pulled out his phone even faster than she did. "Of course, no problem!"
He strolled around the park with the three dogs for two full hours.
Now he understood deeply why the job requirements had specified "energetic and strong."
The huskies wanted to chase every squirrel they saw, and the golden retriever wanted to roll in every puddle. When all three pulled in different directions at once, he felt as though he were playing tug-of-war with three small tractors.
Fortunately, the original owner's body was in excellent shape. The core strength he had built climbing stairs while delivering takeout all summer came in very handy now.
Holding on to the leashes, he used his phone to film the dogs chasing each other across the lawn and uploaded the video to D Station.
After posting it, he casually opened his list of earlier uploads. Their view counts displayed a neat row of zeroes.
Forget it. I'll just treat it as a record of my life.
By the time he brought the three dogs back, their owner had returned.
It was a man in his thirties, sitting on the living room sofa replying to messages. Seeing the three dogs obediently follow Song Shi'an inside, their bodies clean and their paws free of mud, he rose from the sofa.
"Thank you. Sorry for all the trouble." He crouched down and stroked each dog's head in turn. The three dogs circled Song Shi'an's legs, their tails wagging so hard they were practically about to take flight.
"I originally figured you'd walk them one at a time, two hours each, for six hours altogether. I didn't expect you to finish walking all three at once. University students really do have plenty of energy. I've already transferred your pay."
Only then did Song Shi'an understand why the man had offered such generous pay.
Apparently, the dogs had always been walked separately before, two hours each, adding up to six hours of work.
Taking them all out at once meant he had compressed six hours into two, tripling his efficiency.
Still, he was too embarrassed to admit that he had actually walked them all at once because he was pressed for time.
Back at the dorm, after showering, Song Shi'an opened his phone while drying his hair and found a new email in his inbox.
It was from the production team of The Mountains and Rivers Strategy. Filming would officially begin next Wednesday, and a digital copy of the script was attached.
He opened the script and skimmed it. There were only a few pages in total. Meng Zhen's scenes were concentrated in the first ten episodes, and once he finished those, he could wrap.
Tomorrow I'll go to the print shop and print out the script so it's easier to annotate.
But there was a problem now: he had classes next week.
He checked the university's rules and regulations, turning to the provisions concerning students going off campus for filming.
Jingchen University was quite accommodating in this respect. Students could submit documentation from the production team and request leave from their counselor. Short-term filming was fine as long as it did not interfere with final exams. Provided they did not fail any courses, the university would not hold up the process.
He immediately emailed the production team back, explaining that he was a student and needed them to issue documentation so he could request leave.
They replied quickly, sending over a scanned copy of the stamped document in less than an hour.
Song Shi'an spent ages busy at his computer, replying to emails and filling out his leave application. The clatter of his keyboard continued all evening.
Chi Xun poked his head down from the top bunk and watched him for quite a while before finally asking, "Shi'an, what are you doing? You've been busy for ages. Are you preparing for the postgraduate entrance exams?"
Song Shi'an slipped the printed leave application into a document folder without looking up. "Not the postgraduate exams. I auditioned for a role a while ago, and now I'm memorizing my lines to prepare. I might be joining the cast in a few days."
Chi Xun abruptly sat up straight and leaned his whole body out from the top bunk, nearly losing his balance and plunging headfirst to the floor.
He grabbed the railing to steady himself, his voice cracking. "Holy crap! You actually pulled that off! When did you audition? What show? What role? How come you never breathed a word about it?"
Song Shi'an stood up. "Let's talk once I get my leave approved."
He printed out the documentation, folded it, and put it in his backpack.
Early the next morning, he took the printed documentation to his counselor's office.
His counselor's surname was Chen. He was in his forties, wore gold-rimmed glasses, and was sitting behind his desk reviewing paperwork.
When Song Shi'an knocked and entered, he glanced up without stopping his pen.
"What is it?"
"Hello, Teacher Chen. I'd like to request two weeks' leave to film a drama." Song Shi'an handed over the proof of his casting with both hands. "Here's my casting confirmation. The production team has already stamped it."
Teacher Chen took the document and read it from beginning to end, then turned it over to inspect the official seal.
He set the document on his desk, interlaced his fingers on the desktop, and looked at Song Shi'an appraisingly.
"You're a student now. Your main responsibility is studying. As a rule, I don't recommend approving filming work if it takes up class time."
Song Shi'an stood straight, his tone respectful. "Please rest assured, sir. I've checked the regulations. Short-term leave won't affect my eligibility to sit the final exams. Once I'm back, I'll catch up on the classes I missed. I guarantee I won't fail any courses."
Teacher Chen watched him for a long while, his gaze behind the lenses revealing neither pleasure nor displeasure.
"Can you keep your final grades steady?"
"Yes."
Teacher Chen removed his glasses, wiped them, and put them back on.
The transcript placing him among the top three in his major last semester probably passed through his mind. After a few seconds of silence, he picked up the pen on his desk and signed the leave slip.
"Two weeks. Report back when your leave ends. If you go over, have your class adviser call me."
"Thank you, Teacher Chen!" Song Shi'an bowed and left the office with his leave slip.
The moment the door closed, he let out a long breath. Looking down at the leave slip in his hand, the corners of his mouth curled up.
He took a photo and sent it to Chi Xun with a four-character caption: Leave approved.
Chi Xun instantly replied with a long string of exclamation marks, followed by another message: "What are you filming?"
"The Emperor's Ambition. I'm playing a eunuch."
The other end fell silent for a moment before a message popped up: "...What ambition?"
"A eunuch."
"No, the bit before that."
"The Emperor's Ambition."