Chapter Three: The Young Man Is Far Too Green!

Before he transmigrated, Li Zhixin had an elderly family member too—his grandmother. Back then, he always felt she did everything so slowly. Washing vegetables could take her more than ten minutes, and going downstairs required nearly half an hour of effort. He was attentive in caring for her, but he couldn’t help feeling impatient at times. Whenever he urged her, she would always reply with a cheery smile, “I’m old now, I’m old.”

Only now, finding himself in this predicament, did Li Zhixin truly understand what being “old” meant. The spirit is willing, but the body simply cannot keep up. Even the journey home from the hospital felt more exhausting than any long trip he’d ever taken. Climbing up to the fifth floor of an old building with no elevator, he had to stop for breath six times, and it took him over twenty minutes just to get through the door.

Once inside, Li Shixin rested on the sofa for quite a while before he began to survey the elderly man’s former living environment. The one-bedroom apartment was simply and neatly arranged. There was hardly a trace of modern technology: even the television was an old, bulky model. The bookshelf was packed with worn-out books, exuding the scent of aged paper. In the living room, there was an abundance of flowers and plants, and on the balcony, two goldfish swam leisurely in a small tub.

From the most prominent spot on the bookshelf, he pulled out an old photo album. When he saw the pictures of the old man in his youth, Li Shixin was truly taken aback. He’d glanced at himself in the elevator mirror upon leaving the hospital: sparse silver hair cropped close to his scalp, deep wrinkles and liver spots etched across his face. His features were still defined, but time had clearly left its mark.

All that could be said was that he looked like a relatively spirited old man. But in those photographs, the young man was almost unreasonably handsome! The photos were black and white, taken in those plain, unfashionable Mao suits, but the sharp lines of his face, the vibrant eyes that shone even without color, his tall figure and fair skin—all of it was striking.

Staring at the photos for a long while, Li Shixin finally snapped out of his daze and patted his chest. That was close—he almost fell for his younger self. With those looks, he was absolutely otherworldly! A genuine, natural-born male god, the sort who stood on a completely different level from today’s popular idols—those fresh-faced celebrities who only dared show themselves after plastic surgery, makeup, and heavy photo editing.

Gazing at the striking young man in the photo, Li Shixin suddenly felt a little hope for his future. If he could use the system to regain thirty or forty years—no, even just ten or twenty years—wouldn’t breaking into show business be a sure thing? With that appearance alone, he’d be the living embodiment of vitality, never mind his acting skills.

After Li Shixin had finished tidying up his luggage, he hadn’t even left the house when someone knocked on the door. It was a few old friends from the neighborhood, who had heard of his return and came by specifically to see him.

When they learned he intended to go to Rongdian, they became agitated: “Old Li, why put yourself through this? Trust me, don’t go. Just stay home. The few of us brothers will look after you. If your son won’t take care of you, we’ll see you off on your final journey!”

“That’s right, Old Li. If you go, you probably won’t come back. We’ve been neighbors for over a decade—if you’re going to meet the King of Hell, at least let us see you off!”

Carrying a small backpack and being held back by several tearful old friends, Li Shixin’s heart was heavy. The friendships formed in old age could last decades, and he treasured them deeply. They weighed on him.

“Listen, fellows,” Li Shixin patted their hands, “At our age, haven’t we seen enough of life and death? If you truly wish me well, then send me to the train station. Stay home, play cards, play chess, and live a few days longer. Watch me make something of myself out there, and when the time comes, cheer for me! Will you?”

Seeing that his mind was made up, the old friends wiped their tears. “All right, Old Li. Since you want to go out with a bang in your final days, we’ll be waiting in front of the TV. We’ll wait to see you on the screen!”

At four in the afternoon, as dusk fell, six or seven elderly men boarded the bus with determined faces, swiping their senior cards, heading straight for the train station.

Over five hours of travel passed in a blur. By the time he arrived in Hengdian, it was already late at night. Along the way, kind-hearted people noticed his age and poor health, offering their help. The attendant even arranged a lower bunk for him, and the journey was fairly comfortable.

But things were different upon arrival. After taking a taxi to Rongdian, Li Shixin found a hotel near the film studio. The young woman at the front desk, seeing an old man traveling alone, called her manager several times, worried that he’d die in the room. Eating was troublesome too—everything in Rongdian moved fast, and all the food was quick and convenient. The dishes he used to enjoy were either too hot or too cold, too spicy or too salty. In the end, he could only have a small bowl of porridge with pickles at a little shop in an alley.

Worse still, he woke at the slightest noise during the night and couldn’t fall back asleep. The young couple in the next room shook their bed half the night, so Li Shixin ended up watching the stars until dawn.

He endured until after four in the morning. After a quick wash, he slowly made his way downstairs to the hotel lobby.

When the front desk girl saw him come out alive, she let out a genuine sigh of relief. “Checking out, sir?”

Before transmigrating, Li Shixin wouldn’t have called himself especially handsome, but he still drew glances from young women on the street—a solid thirty or forty percent, at least. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been scouted by an agency as an idol trainee. Now, faced with the front desk girl’s look of disdain, he was left speechless.

Ah, he really needed to find a way to earn more applause points. First, he had to make sure he could survive at least a year or two, then try to shave a few years off his apparent age. Otherwise… it would be too miserable.

“Miss, I’m not checking out,” he shook his head. “I just wanted to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“Do you know anyone who recruits actors for film crews?”

She was startled by his question. “Sir, who are you asking for?”

Li Shixin put down his cane and pointed at himself.

She looked him up and down again, her lips twitching. “You were born in the 50s, right? At your age, trying to make it in Rongdian… is there something wrong with chess or Go at home?”

Who did she think she was looking down on? What had those born in the 50s ever done to her? If there’s one thing the elderly have in abundance, it’s the commanding presence that comes from a lifetime of experience.

Li Shixin furrowed his brow, his face radiating dignity without anger, which made the young woman fall silent. She quickly handed him a business card.

He glanced at it and understood immediately. It was for a casting wrangler responsible for hiring extras. No real name—just “Brother Shuo Extras Recruitment.” Clearly, there was no shortage of applicants; there wasn’t even a phone number, just a time and place: before 6 a.m., at the mouth of Furong Alley in front of the film city, beside a van with the plate Rong B52231.

By the time Li Shixin hobbled to Furong Alley with his cane, it was already 5 a.m. He’d thought he was early, but seeing the scene, he was taken aback. A line of minivans stood at the alley entrance, and even before dawn, three layers of people had already gathered.

There were both men and women, mostly young, with the oldest-looking perhaps in their forties. At his age, he was truly one of a kind. The early morning chill forced some to huddle in army coats against the alley wall, looking for all the world like migrant workers waiting for a day’s labor.

“Goodness, sir, with your age and mobility issues, why are you squeezing in here?” As he worked his way through the crowd, some people grew annoyed.

“If you know this old man’s legs aren’t good, why not make way for him?!” he retorted inwardly. If he didn’t force his way in, how was he supposed to compete with these young whippersnappers?

Unfazed, Li Shixin replied and made his way to the front through a gap in the crowd.

“Wait, what?” Some of the young extras realized he wasn’t leaving but had planted himself next to the battered van as if he belonged there.

“Sir, am I seeing things, or are you here for work too?”

Li Shixin nodded calmly. “Why? Is there a problem?”

The group gave him the once-over. His frail, shrunken frame was swallowed by an oversized jacket, and he leaned unsteadily on his cane as if a breeze could topple him.

This sight made the extras laugh.

One of the young men in front, with buck teeth, jeered, “Sir, not to discourage you, but at your age and in your condition, what film crew would want you? Even if the casting wrangler picked you, once filming starts—running here, dashing there—if anything happened to you, who could take responsibility? You’d best go home and rest.”

“Queue up! Enough chatter!” At that moment, the casting wrangler appeared: a burly, bald man in his thirties. The extras immediately quieted down and greeted him deferentially: “Brother Shuo!”

Brother Shuo ignored their attempts to curry favor and, clutching a few sheets of A4 paper, plopped into the driver’s seat of the van.

“Republic-era drama. Need one who’s played a traitor before—sixteen lines, five hundred a day, three days with the crew. If you’ve played a traitor, step up!”

Before Li Shixin could react, Buck Teeth darted into the van—the two seemed to know each other. Brother Shuo nodded and glanced at his paper again.

“Still Republic-era drama. Need thirty to play foreign soldiers—three hundred a day! Must be tall! Under 1.8 meters, don’t even try!”

The extras erupted in commotion. Before Li Shixin could even respond, a swarm of people squeezed into the van. The vehicle sagged under the weight, its shocks groaning in protest.

Seeing the van was full, Brother Shuo stuffed the papers in his pocket.

“That’s it for today?” someone asked.

“That’s all for now! Anyone still looking for work, try again tomorrow!”

Li Shixin was unsettled.

This was brutal—the competition for extra roles was ruthless!

With the overloaded van rumbling to life, the crowd dispersed. This wouldn’t do. Given his current physical state, he couldn’t keep up with this daily struggle. With only twenty days of life left, he couldn’t afford to waste them like this.

As the van was about to leave, Li Shixin grabbed Brother Shuo’s arm at the door.

“What the…” Brother Shuo was startled to find a frail old man clutching him. “Sir, what do you want?”

Li Shixin forced a polite smile and nodded. “Young man, is there any role I could play?”

At the sight of him, Brother Shuo burst out laughing. “First time in Rongdian, sir?”

Li Shixin nodded.

“At your age, what kind of extra roles could you possibly play?”

“What kind of roles?” Li Shixin pondered. “Aren’t there any roles that need old people?”

The whole van erupted in laughter. Buck Teeth, sitting in the front, was delighted. “Sir, do you know where you are? This is Rongdian! With makeup artists here, they can turn an eighteen-year-old into a centenarian. Youngsters are much easier to direct than you!”

Brother Shuo joined in the laughter and pulled his arm back.

“I’ve performed in theater,” Li Shixin said earnestly, facing the mocking gazes.

“Whoa!” Buck Teeth laughed even harder, checked his watch, and decided to have some fun. “So you’re a veteran, huh? How about giving us a live performance?”

“Sure.” Li Shixin nodded, tossed his cane aside, and stretched his back.

Seeing him assume a stance, the others craned their necks in curiosity. Rongdian was big, full of hidden talents. Though most extras didn’t last long, sometimes there were true gems—like the now-famous Wang Baobao, who started as an extra. Some seasoned actors weren’t professionally trained but had honed their craft through life experience and keen observation.

As Li Shixin warmed up his joints, the crowd grew intrigued—maybe this old man was the real deal.

After some stretching, with all eyes on him, Li Shixin grabbed the van’s side mirror.

And then…

He slowly lay down in front of the van’s wheel.

Lying on the cold ground, he calmly glanced at Brother Shuo.

“Young man, care to guess how good my acting is?” he asked.

Everyone was stunned.

Seeing him lying there, with the alley now almost empty, Brother Shuo broke out in a cold sweat. He jumped out of the van and crouched beside Li Shixin.

“Ah… um… sir, please, have mercy. Judging by your performance, you must be good. How about—how about you get in the van first? I’ll make sure to find you a part once we get to the set?”

Li Shixin was quite satisfied with this attitude.

“I won’t play a dead body.”

“Come on, sir, of course we wouldn’t cast you in something so unlucky at your age.”

“There must be lines.”

“I’ll do my best, I promise.”

“The boxed meals are too greasy. I can’t eat them. There has to be plain porridge and pickles.”

“My goodness! My dear sir, please, get up and get in! If the crew doesn’t have it, I’ll buy it for you myself!”

All right then.

With Brother Shuo’s help, Li Shixin got up. Did they really think they could outplay an old hand like him?

He dusted off his clothes with composure, then glanced at the overloaded van.

Following his gaze, Brother Shuo looked into the vehicle, scowled, and kicked the bumper in annoyance.

He pointed at Buck Teeth, whose mouth was shaped in a perfect “O” of disbelief, and barked, “Are you trying to get yourself fired? Get in the back and give this gentleman your seat!”