Chapter 8: Countdown to the Arts Examination...

Early the next morning.

Chen Jin stretched his limbs and woke from his slumber. In his dream, he was thirty-eight years old, holding aloft the Palme d'Or for Best Actor at Cannes. Just as he was about to set it down, the excitement caused him to wake up.

"Dreams are but reflections of our waking thoughts!" he muttered. "I must have been too absorbed in that 'True Future Autobiography' film last night."

Yesterday, Chen Jin had studied English vocabulary until past ten o'clock. Su Wanyu had indeed come up to test him on fifty words, which he had completed successfully, much to her disbelief. Afterward, under the guise of going to sleep, he had pushed himself to watch his entire future from 2011 onwards, finishing around three in the morning.

That was the source of his dream. Had it not been for the sheer exhaustion that finally pulled him into sleep, the shock of what he had witnessed would likely have kept him awake all night. It was truly staggering. To think that in the future, Chinese box office returns could reach five or six billion—and that was only a few years away. It was 2010 now, meaning in just seven years, domestic film revenue had skyrocketed from a little over one hundred million to several billion. If the system hadn't granted him this, he would never have believed it. In this era, Hollywood dominated the world, and he himself loved their blockbusters. A single film earning five billion was approaching the peak box office records of North America. Was the future of Chinese cinema really that powerful?

Chen Jin’s resolve to become an actor grew even firmer. Yet, what shocked him most wasn't the box office, but China’s economy and real estate. In the decade following 2010, China was undoubtedly the fastest-growing country in the world, bar none. It was so strong that Chen Jin began to doubt his own perception of reality. Fifth-generation fighter jets, aircraft carriers, video games—in every field he cared about, China had become terrifyingly formidable.

"System, you must be lying to me!" he thought. "I'm starting to doubt if this video really is my future. Unless you make me win the grand prize in the lottery tomorrow!"

As Chen Jin processed the video, the virtual interface before him showed that his voice-acting proficiency had reached Mastery (23/100). It had jumped twelve points in one night. Aside from his own practice, this was also due to the rewards for "Spending time with parents."

[Spent 5 hours with parents, voice-acting proficiency +3!]
[Spent 10 hours with parents, voice-acting proficiency +4!]

His own English pronunciation practice had only yielded two points, while the other three came from daily tasks.

[Host practiced vocalization for 2 hours, voice-acting proficiency +2!]
[Host completed the first day of an actor's daily routine, voice-acting proficiency +1!]

Between the practice and the time spent with his parents, the points added up quickly. Chen Jin looked forward to the next level of proficiency; he felt that at his current level, he was already on par with many young actors. What would happen if he leveled up again? He had tested himself last night, and both his speaking rhythm and Mandarin were vastly improved.

"Fifteen days until the arts entrance exams. Let's go!"

Chen Jin decided against his original plan of applying to every school. It was useless. It was better to focus on two or three top choices. If he failed, he would pour his efforts into English for the college entrance exam. Considering scheduling conflicts, he narrowed his choices to the Central Academy of Drama and the Beijing Film Academy. The Shanghai Theatre Academy’s preliminary exam clashed with the Beijing Film Academy’s, so he had to choose.

The Central Academy of Drama’s preliminary was on February 27th, while the Beijing Film Academy’s was on February 25th. Passing the preliminary was just the start of a three-to-four-round process known as the "school exams." The Central Academy of Drama’s acting department was the gold standard in the country, and its exams were notoriously difficult. While Beijing Film Academy only required a poetry recitation, the Central Academy of Drama tested vocal, physical, and collective improvisation skills in the preliminary round alone.

Chen Jin felt the pressure. He was currently confident in his voice and acting, thanks to the system, but he needed a plan for the physical and movement segments. He recalled some training methods from the future videos he had watched. For acting, there were no shortcuts; it required daily practice in front of a mirror to master micro-expressions. For physical conditioning, he could turn to dancing, running, and martial arts.

"Fifteen days to the final battle! Start with running! And I can practice my diction while I run!"

Chen Jin changed into his sportswear and headed downstairs. Chen Xianqi and Su Wanyu were already up. Chen Xianqi, who had the day off, looked at his son in surprise. Su Wanyu, having just returned from the market, saw his outfit and immediately scolded, "You are not allowed to go play soccer!"

She assumed his friends were calling him out to play. Chen Jin smiled, pulled out a small vocabulary notebook from behind his back, and began to warm up. "I'm going for a run, and I'll memorize words while I'm at it!"

As he spoke, he recited a word with a rhythmic cadence. "Performer, p-e-r... performer, actor!"

Su Wanyu: "..."
Chen Xianqi: "..."

The two watched as Chen Jin jogged out the door, reciting vocabulary the entire way.

"Wife, is that really our son?" Chen Xianqi asked, feeling as though he were hallucinating. He looked at Su Wanyu, who was still staring blankly at the spot where Chen Jin had disappeared. "When did our son become so diligent? And studying while exercising?" He felt a surge of emotion; his son was being almost too good, and it moved him.

"Follow him!" Su Wanyu snapped. "Something’s not right!"

"How... how do I follow him?" Chen Xianqi stammered. "I can't outrun him! I'm a grown man, and it’s been ages since I’ve exercised—"

"Chen Xianqi, do you just not want to chase him?" Su Wanyu glared at the husband she had once meticulously chosen. She grabbed the electric scooter from the porch and roared, "Where are the keys?"

"Oh, oh!" Chen Xianqi hurriedly unclipped the keys from his belt and handed them to her, adding, "Should I drive?"

"You?" Su Wanyu didn't trust him for a second. She took the keys, twisted the throttle, and sped off after their son.

"Why didn't I think of taking the scooter?" Chen Xianqi slapped his thigh. Watching his wife speed away, he shouted, "Slow down! Be careful not to fall!" There was no gauze or bandages left in the house—a thought that flashed through his mind, though he left it unsaid.