On the day his pay for "The Emperor's Ambition" arrived, Song Shi'an stared at the bank balance on his phone screen for a long while.
Thirty thousand yuan. He checked the decimal point twice, making sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.
Then he transferred ten thousand to the original owner's parents and set the remaining twenty thousand aside to repay his debts.
Less than ten minutes after the transfer, Mother Song called.
"Shi'an, why did you suddenly send so much money?" Mother Song's voice was clearly anxious.
"Mom, I've been acting part-time when I don't have classes. The pay for a production is pretty good. Don't worry, just keep it." Song Shi'an kept his tone relaxed.
Mother Song asked a few more questions, and only after confirming that the money hadn't come from any shady source did she breathe a sigh of relief and start chattering about things at home.
Song Shi'an leaned back in his chair and listened, responding every now and then.
After he hung up, Jiang Ye leaned over the back of his chair and looked at him enviously. "You get along so well with your parents. Look at my mom. It's been a whole month since school started, and she hasn't called once. All she does is send money."
Song Shi'an smiled without saying anything, but the little person inside him nearly flipped the table.
If you don't want that life, give it to me! I don't want lots and lots of love. I just want lots and lots of money!
"Shi'an, did you grab a spot in a PE elective?" Chi Xun poked his head down from the top bunk, his phone screen lit up.
Song Shi'an froze. He had completely forgotten about it.
He had missed the first round of course registration while on leave for filming. The second round opened at three that afternoon.
He checked his phone. It was already 2:58!
"What's still available?"
Chi Xun scrolled down a couple of times. "Basketball's full, badminton's full, swimming's full... Only tai chi and tennis have spots left."
Song Shi'an pictured himself slowly practicing tai chi under the blazing sun and decisively chose tennis.
At three sharp, the system opened on schedule, and he swiftly tapped confirm.
The page loaded for a couple of seconds, then displayed "Registration successful."
Chi Xun pushed up his glasses. "Tennis, huh? That's Mr. Ma Zhengchuan's class. He retired from the national team. He's really strict."
Before Song Shi'an could digest that information, his phone vibrated again.
A group announcement popped up in the tennis class WeChat group: "Students, please bring your own tennis rackets to our first class next week. Professional training rackets are recommended."
He switched apps and searched for tennis racket prices.
The instant the page loaded, he fell apart.
Anything halfway decent cost four figures, and even the cheapest basic models were four or five hundred yuan.
He stared at the prices and let out a sigh from the depths of his soul.
Pei Zhiyan came out of the bathroom and saw Song Shi'an slumped in his chair, a search results page for tennis rackets on his phone screen.
"What's wrong?"
"Tennis rackets are too expensive. Even the cheapest ones cost four or five hundred."
Pei Zhiyan's tone was even. "I have one I don't use. I'll have someone bring it over tomorrow. You can use it."
Song Shi'an sprang out of his chair and pressed his palms together. "Godfather! Words can't express my gratitude for your great kindness!"
Jiang Ye, who had been drinking cola, choked at that address and broke into a coughing fit.
Chi Xun's glasses nearly slipped off his nose. Pei Zhiyan's hand paused in midair around his cup. After two seconds of silence, he turned and returned to his seat, the corners of his mouth lifting just a fraction.
Tennis class began at two on Tuesday afternoon.
Song Shi'an walked into the gym carrying the tennis bag Pei Zhiyan had given him. The late-September sun was still a little harsh, but fortunately, tennis class was held indoors.
He had changed into a white short-sleeved shirt and black athletic shorts, with a baseball cap pulled low on his head and a black mask covering the lower half of his face.
More than a dozen people were already waiting on the tennis court, leaning against the walls and chatting in twos and threes. A few wore professional tennis outfits, and the rackets in their hands clearly weren't cheap.
Song Shi'an unobtrusively found a corner to stand in and set his tennis bag by his feet.
"Are you Song Shi'an?"
A girl with a high ponytail walked over, holding a pink tennis racket.
Song Shi'an resigned himself to it. He would be taking this class every week from now on. His classmates would recognize him sooner or later.
He nodded. "Yes. Hi."
"Hi, hi! I'm Zhang Yuanyuan from the acting department! I heard you went off to film something. I never thought we'd end up in the same class!"
She had barely finished speaking when a tall young man walked over with a carbon-fiber racket in his hand, his gaze sweeping over Song Shi'an.
"Zhang Yuanyuan, what are you looking at?"
Zhang Yuanyuan rolled her eyes at him. "What's it to you?"
Cheng Haotian ignored her and turned his gaze back to Song Shi'an, his lips curving politely without much of a smile.
Zhang Yuanyuan gazed at Song Shi'an with a lovestruck expression, while Cheng Haotian practically bubbled over with jealousy beside her.
Baffled by the way this guy was staring at him, Song Shi'an shifted half a step to the side.
"Line up!"
A loud whistle broke up the delicate atmosphere. Ma Zhengchuan stood in the center of the court with a class roster in hand, dressed in a dark blue tracksuit, his posture ramrod straight.
"From now on, I'll be your tennis coach. My surname is Ma, and you can call me Coach Ma. There are three rules in my class: first, no being late. Second, no slacking off. Third, everyone gets the same physical training."
After taking attendance, Coach Ma taught them the basic racket grip and serving stance.
Standing in the back row, Song Shi'an copied the movements. He glanced around out of the corner of his eye. Most of his classmates moved with practiced ease; it was obvious they had trained before.
Cheng Haotian in particular held his racket with such textbook precision that his stance could have been lifted straight from the pages.
"All right, pair up and practice. Get a feel for it."
Zhang Yuanyuan was just about to head toward Song Shi'an when Cheng Haotian strode over and planted himself in front of him.
"Let's have a match."
Song Shi'an looked bewildered. He had only said two sentences this entire time. Why was this guy coming after him again?
"No, thanks. I'm a beginner."
"What, scared? It's just practice." Cheng Haotian smiled.
Zhang Yuanyuan was furious beside them. "Cheng Haotian, what's wrong with you? He already said he doesn't want to play with you!"
Someone nearby murmured, "Isn't Cheng Haotian from the Lingfeng Tennis Club? He's competed in quite a few tournaments, hasn't he?"
Hearing the commotion, Coach Ma walked over. "What are you all crowding around for? Start once you've paired up."
A girl pulled Zhang Yuanyuan away, leaving only Song Shi'an and Cheng Haotian standing in the middle of the court.
Song Shi'an gripped his racket. With a club player across from him, this practice match was no different from feeding a kill.
Sure enough, Cheng Haotian showed no mercy from the start. His serves were fierce and tricky, the ball moving frighteningly fast, each shot landing right at the edge of Song Shi'an's reach.
Within a few exchanges, Song Shi'an was running all over the court.