Chapter 14: The English Major Level 8 Exam
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With a thought, Liu Jing summoned a nine-square grid before him.
This time, no explanation was needed; he understood it immediately.
The nine categories were script, literature, song, course, skill, martial art, talent, miscellaneous, and blank.
He hadn’t expected a blank prize, but luckily his first draw wasn’t empty-handed.
As the lottery began, a black dragon swiftly swam across the grid, finally landing on the “course” category.
[Congratulations, you have drawn the course “English Major Level 8.” Please select an appropriate opportunity to claim it.]
“Useless,” Liu Jing felt disappointed. “I have eidetic memory; foreign languages are no problem for me.” He would have preferred winning five million instead.
He had never planned to study a foreign language, yet here he was, winning this course.
What opportunity could be more suitable than now?
A flood of information surged into his mind, making him dizzy and even unsteady while standing still.
“Wooden head, are you sleepy? Why are you standing still so late at night?” his aunt noticed his odd behavior just in time.
“I am not sleepy!” Liu Jing blurted out.
His aunt’s melon seeds spilled onto her chest in surprise. “More standard than me?”
She was only momentarily taken aback; after all, Liu Jing had brought her countless surprises before. Seeing him return to normal, she resumed watching TV.
Amazing!
He could actually understand the English on TV. Had he drawn a Chinese course earlier, he would still be flipping through dictionaries.
Clearly, looking up words isn’t nearly as interesting as reading the Romance of the Three Kingdoms.
Liu Jing silently asked the system, “Dog system, how do these lottery chances come about?”
He expected no reply, having cursed it countless times.
Unexpectedly, this time there was a response: every system upgrade grants additional lottery chances.
Moreover, when he and his companions win significant entertainment awards, they also receive lottery opportunities.
The prizes mostly related to entertainment and culture; nothing transcendent or mystical appeared.
The system also informed him that any film or TV work he and his companions help create will generate “entertainment energy” upon release.
For every thousand yuan earned at the box office, one point of entertainment energy is converted.
The more important his role in the production, the richer the entertainment energy he receives.
For example, in “Beggar Su,” if the box office is 10 million yuan, and he plays a background character without a single line, the calculation would be 10,000,000 × 5% = 500,000 points.
No lines, background role coefficient is 5%.
With lines, background role coefficient is 10%.
Supporting roles and ordinary crew get 30%, important supporting roles and key crew 50%, lead roles and screenwriters 70%, major stars 90%, and director, producer, or supervisor 100%.
If one holds multiple roles, the highest coefficient applies.
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Liu Jing was dissatisfied with the lottery result but pleased with his enhanced body.
His strength had increased significantly, just the most obvious change. As he aged, his power would continue to grow. Now, his strength rivaled that of an average adult woman.
The physical enhancement covered all aspects: constitution, coordination, immunity, digestion—not just raw strength.
He spent ten points of entertainment energy to test his new ability but felt somewhat disappointed.
It didn’t work like a camera’s instant snapshot but required reading line by line, word by word to retain memory. However, during this process, he astonishingly no longer felt dizzy from reading.
After finishing his experiment, drowsiness overwhelmed him, and he fell asleep immediately.
The next morning, he awoke refreshed, roused by his alarm clock.
While he slept, his aunt had changed his clothes again; he felt no embarrassment.
Arriving at the film crew, he felt even more alert, especially since the annoying Wang Fatty was absent.
With his hands behind his back, he strolled around the set, gaining 119 points of entertainment energy, enough to remember everything for half a day.
More new faces appeared at the crew today, most of his entertainment energy coming from them.
“Kid, are you standing still like that?” Zhou Xingxing, just arriving, spotted Liu Jing immediately.
Unprecedented: Liu Jing’s biological clock had failed him today.
He got up a little late—late compared to before, though still early by his aunt’s standards.
He hadn’t stood still that morning, so upon arrival, he sought a quiet corner to catch up.
“You have a sharp eye,” Liu Jing responded, acknowledging the other’s territory; otherwise, he wouldn’t bother replying. He never liked talking while standing still.
“Every day, like clockwork, I’m used to it,” his aunt said with a tone of three parts pride and seven parts self-satisfaction.
“Impressive,” Zhou Xingxing gave a genuine thumbs-up.
“Got something to say?” Liu Jing asked.
“Hey! Wooden head, since you’re free, why not tell me that story?” Zhou Xingxing patted Liu Jing’s head, noticing the boy had improved quite a bit overnight.
“Aren’t you busy today?” Liu Jing was surprised.
He remembered Zhou Xingxing as someone always busy, never still, or lost in brooding as if someone owed him money.
He was happy to tell stories.
If he could join Zhou Xingxing’s film as an important supporting role, the entertainment energy would be substantial.
“My scenes are almost done; now it’s just you little guys left. Today I’ll train you, tomorrow we move to another location,” Zhou Xingxing explained.
“Who’s training us?” Liu Jing already knew the process, so he wasn’t surprised.
“It wasn’t me before, but now it’s me,” Zhou Xingxing said with a hint of pride.
“Oh,” Liu Jing responded calmly.
“Hey, kid, you better start buttering me up. Cheer me up, and Uncle will give you more lines, at least a few.” Zhou Xingxing, playful, teased him.
“No need; you’re not the director. Why bother?” Liu Jing replied with a calm firmness.
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In truth, he didn’t want to act. Staying on set to collect bubbles was his true goal.
Having or not having lines didn’t change the coefficient much; the final difference was only a few hundred points of entertainment energy.
“Uncle is pretty powerful on set,” Zhou Xingxing continued teasing.
“If you really have time, why not teach me how to operate the camera? How to use the film?” Liu Jing’s face showed eagerness. Photographers wouldn’t let him near the precious, old machine.
Better to be a lead than a supporting role; better to be a creator than a lead; better yet to be a director.
“Become my disciple, and I’ll teach you,” Zhou Xingxing smiled warmly, having high hopes for Liu Jing, wanting to nurture him from a young age.
“You? No way.” Liu Jing shook his head vigorously.
“I’m very busy.” Zhou Xingxing turned and walked away. Liu Jing was dumbfounded—no bargaining?
His aunt, sitting nearby, watched her nephew’s defeat, covering her mouth to stifle laughter.
“Hmph! You’ve got chives stuck between your teeth,” Liu Jing rolled his eyes.
“Ah!” His aunt panicked, quickly pulling out a mirror from her bag to check.
Turning her back, she grimaced for a long time before realizing her nephew had tricked her again.
“You little brat, I haven’t eaten all morning,” his aunt said angrily, about to retaliate when a crowd suddenly entered the set.
There were adults and children, a noisy throng spreading through the crew.
These children were all young actors needed for filming tomorrow.
Whether any would appear on camera was another matter.
Adults gathered to chat with other adults; naturally, children found their own company, sharing common language.
Liu Jing, standing still, was a unique sight not only to the children but also to the adults.
His aunt, beautiful, was an even more striking presence in the eyes of the male parents.
Soon, several adults surrounded her, exchanging pleasantries.
Meanwhile, four or five children swarmed around Liu Jing, chattering and causing a commotion.
“What’s your name?”
“How old are you?”
“What are you doing?”
“This kid’s so cool.”
“Hey! I’m asking you a question! Are you deaf?”
…