Chapter 018: Playing the Dog

Ai Shoujin was already in his sixties—a veteran comrade. In his youth, he’d been diagnosed infertile, so he’d always considered adoption. Over a decade ago, while filming on location in Pingjiang, an old friend told him about a promising child at “Little Red Star.” The boy was a clever little thing—rosy lips, pearly teeth, quick-witted and articulate. Most importantly, he was healthy, with no disabilities or hereditary illnesses. In short, a perfectly ordinary child.

The moment Ai Shoujin arrived at “Little Red Star,” he took a liking to the boy. Before meeting Li Jie, several “mothers”—Aunt Shu, Aunt Niu, and the like—met with Ai Shoujin for a meal. However reluctant they were, they had to think of the child’s best interests, didn’t they? The adults got along well, and Aunt Shu was already preparing to celebrate finding a good home for Li Jie.

But then… the child wasn’t willing.

Little Li Jie, blessed with the so-called “Innate Orphan Constitution,” cheerfully said he rather liked being an orphan. And so the matter ended there. No matter how Ai Shoujin tried to coax or persuade, Li Jie declined with impeccable manners. The boy even said, “If I leave, ‘Little Red Star’ won’t have as many visitors anymore.”

For most people, that line wouldn’t mean much. But for a director with professional and moral integrity—if not talent—it was striking. Obviously, as long as Li Jie remained a child, there would be families eager to adopt him, each visit bringing gifts and treats. Since they’d already come, even if the child wasn’t adopted, wouldn’t you at least bring some fruit? Whether the fruit was sweet didn’t matter—the gesture did.

At the time, Ai Shoujin thought, this boy truly was a clever little imp. The later development of “Red Star Orphanage” only proved it. While many orphanages eventually relocated, “Little Red Star” flourished for a time because Li Jie became a child star. Many charity organizations and those looking to boost their reputation came to donate, and the higher-ups enjoyed a few good years as a result. After all, the money didn’t all go to “Little Red Star.” If they’d really made a fortune, those twelve mothers wouldn’t still be pinching pennies.

Perhaps it was some inscrutable law of equilibrium at work, but after the age of eleven, clever Li Jie became a cautionary tale, his talent vanishing as if it had never existed.

Seven years passed in a flash, and there was no sign of Li Jie regaining his “supernatural” abilities. Over the years, Ai Shoujin found him many jobs, but it was truly a case of “mud that wouldn’t stick to the wall.” Some children were blessed by heaven, but after eleven, Li Jie not only lost his bowl at the celestial feast but was left with a slop spoon. His acting and singing were pure torment for the audience. Fortunately, he’d amassed quite a few royalties in childhood, so Ai Shoujin didn’t have to worry about his livelihood—mostly they just chatted and occasionally went fishing together.

Ai Shoujin wasn't originally from Sanjiang Province but hailed from Jiangyou Yuzhang. One day, watching the news, he noticed that “Masked Brother's” build resembled Li Jie, the boy who might have been his son. Just to be sure, he called Shu Xiuqin to confirm. The internet had already outed “Masked Brother” as Li Jie, but Ai Shoujin still asked directly. When it turned out to be true, he couldn’t help sighing at what might have been.

By coincidence, a student of an old friend was about to direct their first feature film. Lacking confidence and funds, they asked Ai Shoujin for help, so he agreed to lend his name as a consultant director. Whether or not he could actually direct was beside the point—at his age, he was all about leisure and well-being.

There were perks, though: he could recommend acquaintances for cameos or small parts. But since his old friend’s student was truly talented—and talented people tend to have strong personalities—not only was there little room to influence the main roles, even most supporting roles were out of reach. As for extras, why should he bother? He wasn’t a casting director for background actors.

It didn’t matter much to him, except that, having seen the news about Li Jie, he thought of giving this “good son” another chance.

And so it happened.

The audition was set for late September—just after military training ended, which was perfect. Of course, the necessary photos and résumé had to be prepared in advance, and his agent, Chen Pi, was to bring them to Luzhou.

Why Luzhou? Because that was where the film was being shot, and all the locations were nearby.

After finishing his eighth engagement, Chen Pi, already in touch with the production team in Luzhou, sent word and then called Li Jie.

“Brother Li, the directors are very pleased with your qualifications! Not just Director Ai—Director Lu is impressed as well. They think you’re perfect for the role of Erlang, the True Lord of Manifest Power!”

“Speak plainly, will you? Stop beating around the bush.”

“Well, the investors have someone to recommend, so you probably won’t get that part. However, there’s another role that everyone’s fine with—it just depends on what you think.”

“What role? The Jade Emperor?”

“The Howling Celestial Dog.”

“You want me to play a dog?!”

“Brother Li, hear me out! Director Lu said the role’s concept can be changed! Before, ‘Howling Celestial Dog’ had no human form, but for you, Director Lu’s willing to add one. You won’t be playing a dog, but a dog-like man… uh, I mean, a man with canine qualities!”

Li Jie’s face twitched. He thought he might as well listen to the system and go raise funds to shoot “Masked Gourd Hero.”

[Ding!]
[The “Superstar System” reminds you: Filming requires caution; harmony ensures safety.]
[Please check the “Masked Gourd Hero Production Guide.”]
[Please check the “Film Pyrotechnics and Explosion Techniques.”]
[Please check the “Action Scene Analysis and Directing Handbook.”]
[…]
[Wishing you a swift fundraising and a classic offering to this beautiful world!]

As if reading his mind, the dog system chimed in at just the right time—this matter wasn’t over yet.

“Brother Li, Director Lu also said, if you accept, your pay will be eighty thousand.”

“Only eighty thousand?”

“Come on, Brother Li, that’s not bad at all. Besides, is the pay what matters? This is Director Lu’s big-screen debut! He’s only done TV before, but he’ll definitely do more films in the future. If you get on good terms with him now, you’ll have better roles in his shows down the line—starting with supporting roles, and perhaps moving up!”

“Good point.”

“And who knows? If Director Lu’s debut is a hit, next time you work with a new director, you might start as a major supporting character!”

“In that case… let’s give it a shot?”

“I’ll do whatever you say, Brother Li.”

“All right, it’s settled.”

That night, Li Jie had trouble sleeping. He suddenly remembered he was still in a group chat with his “Ten-Year Black Fans.” Now what? How was he supposed to brag to that pack of ingrates?