Wansheng Prefecture, Fangpai Mountain, Hunlong Stronghold.
Yuan Kuilong, the stronghold's chief, walked along the mountain path. Behind him trailed Zhao Yingde, the provisions steward, who was followed in turn by a rabble of bandit soldiers of all sizes.
Yuan Kuilong rubbed his bearded jaw and licked his dry lips, feeling a parched itch in his throat.
*Snap!*
Zhao Yingde reached behind his own head. With a wrench, a twist, and a tug, he plucked an apple straight from his scalp and offered it to Yuan Kuilong.
"Chief, have a taste!"
Blood was still dripping from the stem. Yuan Kuilong took a bite and nodded repeatedly.
Zhao Yingde asked full of anticipation, "Chief, is it sweet?"
"Sweet, truly sweet!" Yuan Kuilong praised unstintingly. "Old Zhao, to grow an apple this sweet, you've clearly put your brains to work!"
"I practically wracked my brains out for it!" Zhao Yingde tore off a strip of tape and slapped it over the back of his head.
"Wracked your brains?" Yuan Kuilong looked at him in pleasant surprise. "That's scholars' talk. Who did you learn that from?"
Zhao Yingde puffed out his chest, looking rather proud. "Learned it from the second chief. Master Song is an educated man!"
"Is that so?" Yuan Kuilong chuckled twice. "So Old Song taught you that."
A snowflake drifted down onto the apple and melted.
"What's the date today?" Yuan Kuilong asked.
Zhao Yingde consulted a nearby bandit and hurried to reply, "Today is the first of the ninth month, Chief."
Yuan Kuilong glanced around. "The first snow came a bit early this year."
"Indeed. The cold set in early. Chief, you just returned to the stronghold today. Go get some rest first. I've already had the boys stoke the boiler—the rooms are nice and warm."
Yuan Kuilong tugged at his heavy fur cloak, took another bite of the apple, and gazed toward the hostage quarters. "In the days I was away, how many fools did you catch for me?"
Zhao Yingde held up five fingers. "Five! All locked up in the hostage quarters!"
"Are they all real fools? Don't try to hoodwink me." Yuan Kuilong slipped a jade archer's ring off his thumb and held it up to the sunlight.
The ring was smooth as congealed fat, its outer surface polished like a mirror, its inner rim perfectly rounded and gleaming. Several master jewelers had examined it and declared it a treasure of the highest order.
Yet as exquisite as it looked, staring at it for more than a moment sent an icy shiver down one's spine, accompanied by a faint stench of blood creeping into the nostrils.
Zhao Yingde didn't dare look any longer. A man with a humble fate like his couldn't compare to Chief Yuan; gazing too long at such treasures shaved years off one's life.
"Chief, those fools are materials to open the bowl. In a matter of such importance, how could we dare get sloppy? Besides, Second Master brought them in personally."
"Old Song fetched them himself?" Yuan Kuilong pocketed the ring. "Rare of him to show such thoughtfulness. I should go take a look."
By the time they reached the door of the hostage quarters, the apple was gone. Yuan Kuilong popped the core straight into his mouth.
Zhao Yingde hurriedly tried to stop him. "Chief, you can't eat that!"
"Of course I can. This is your hard work and devotion, brother. I can't let it go to waste, especially when the apple was so sweet..." As he spoke, Yuan Kuilong rubbed his cheek, his tongue probing around inside his mouth.
Did he bite something hard?
Zhao Yingde grew nervous. "Chief, did you bite down on a shard of bone? I've been running a bit hot these past couple of days, so there might've been extra grit in the apple. Spit it out quick, don't let it choke you..."
"It's not bone!" Yuan Kuilong spat out an apple seed and chuckled at Zhao Yingde. "Brother, your apple went to seed! I knew you had some real seed in you!"
Zhao Yingde thrust out his chest and slapped it proudly. "We brothers follow you, Chief—every one of us has got guts and seed!"
Yuan Kuilong stared at the apple seed, loath to discard it. "With an apple this good, I'm afraid I won't get to taste another like it."
Zhao Yingde thumped his chest again. "As long as I have a breath left in me, you can have as many as you want!"
"No! We can't rely on you alone; it takes too much brainwork! Scholars have a saying: plant one tree in spring, reap ten thousand fruits in autumn. Now that we have a seed, we must spread our branches and leaves." Yuan Kuilong drew a dagger, dug a small pit in the dirt, and buried the seed inside.
Zhao Yingde hurried forward to help. "Chief, no need to trouble yourself over such a trifle. Let me do it."
Yuan Kuilong shoved him aside. "You don't understand the finer craft of this. Growing apples is technical work; you can't just bury it in the dirt and call it a day. You have to water it, and you have to fertilize it."
Once the seed was covered, Yuan Kuilong unhitched his pants and took a piss right over the spot.
Zhao Yingde gave a hearty thumbs-up. "Chief, fine water, fine fertilizer!"
Yuan Kuilong pulled up his trousers and shouted, "When the day comes that it bears fruit, we brothers shall feast together!"
The bandits roared in unison, "Thank you, Chief!"
The bandits remained outside the hostage quarters while Yuan Kuilong stepped into the cells inside. Zhao Yingde held up a torch, introducing the prisoners one by one:
"This one is Zhao Guangping, from Silken Brocade City. His family sells fabric. His father has craft and is a registered journeyman.
"This one is Rong Xiaozhang, from Fine Delicacy Arcade. His family sells steamed buns. His mother has craft, also as a journeyman.
"This is Feng Qiuling, from Splint-Knife Grove. Her father is a master basket weaver.
"And this is Pei Binru, from Blue Square Kiln. His family burns bricks, and he has craft of his own."
Yuan Kuilong glanced at Pei Binru, then turned to Zhao Yingde. "How does a fool have craft?"
Zhao Yingde quickly explained, "I heard from Second Master that he went mad when he was inducted into the trade."
Seeing the vacant stare and the strand of drool dangling from the man's mouth, he certainly looked the part of a fool.
There was one more person curled up in the corner of the cell, head lowered the entire time.
Yuan Kuilong walked over and studied him closely for a good while. "Is this... the third son of the Lin family?"
"Yes!" Zhao Yingde nodded. "That's Lin Shaocong, the third son of the Lin clan."
Yuan Kuilong's expression darkened. "Why did you capture him?"
Zhao Yingde hurriedly plucked another apple from the back of his head and offered it to Yuan Kuilong. "Master Long, this was all ordered by Second Master Song. He said that for the six fools, we need the complete set of clothing, food, shelter, and transport. The old Lin family runs boats, so they hold the domain of transport. Without this domain, we can't kindle your bowl."
Yuan Kuilong pushed the apple aside. "The Lin family has fifth-tier craftsmen—pillars of the realm! Don't you know that? With so many boatmen out there, did you have to take Lin Shaocong? Couldn't you find any other fool?"
Zhao Yingde pressed his lips together. "Second Master said the Lin family has run boats for generations, so their bloodline is pure, making him the most suitable candidate.
"Second Master also said everyone for miles around knows the Lin family's third son is both an idiot and a cripple—a useless burden who's despised even at home. If he dies, no one will pursue it.
"Second Master also said that once you open the bowl and elevate your craft, you will immediately become a sixth-tier titan of the realm, with no need to fear the Lin family.
"So Second Master said..."
"Second Master said, Second Master said—Second Master said my ass!" Yuan Kuilong flared up in anger. "Second Master this, Second Master that! Where do you put me, the first master?"
Zhao Yingde shuddered and pleaded frantically, "Chief, my loyalty to you is true and red!"
Yuan Kuilong roared, "Is loyalty proven with the mouth?"
Zhao Yingde looked thoroughly earnest. "What comes out of my mouth matches what's in my heart!"
"Your mouth matches your heart? Do you take me for an idiot?" Yuan Kuilong demanded right in his face. "Where's your mouth?"
"Under my nose!"
"And where's your heart?"
"Inside my chest!"
Yuan Kuilong fumed, "Then how can they be the same?"
Zhao Yingde grew a little indignant too. "Why wouldn't they be?"
Yuan Kuilong barked, "I can see what's under your nose, but can I see inside your chest?"
Zhao Yingde was a fierce-tempered man. Hearing Yuan Kuilong speak like this, he tore his lapels open. "Chief, I've followed you for so many years, yet you don't trust me! Today, I'll carve out my heart and show it to you!"
With those words, Zhao Yingde drew his dagger, made a swift slash and scoop across his chest, gouged out a heart, clutched it in his hand, and held it out to Yuan Kuilong.
Yuan Kuilong's eyes immediately reddened. "Brother, I was just blowing off some steam. Why did you take it to heart?"
The five fools in the cell were scared senseless.
Terrified into even greater idiocy than before.
Zhao Guangping, the cloth merchant's son, clamped down on his own clothes.
Rong Xiaozhang, the bun baker's son, bit down on his own fist.
Feng Qiuling, the basket weaver's daughter, gnawed relentlessly at the cell bars.
Pei Binru, the brickmaker, wet himself in terror and began mixing mud with his own urine.
Lin Shaocong, the Lin family's third young master, found a lump of mud and quietly stuffed it into his trousers.
Clutching his heart, tears brimming in his eyes, Zhao Yingde panted weakly and gasped, "Chief, this heart of mine... do you see it now?"
"I see it, my good brother..." Yuan Kuilong choked on his tears. Taking the heart, he took a bite.
*Crunch!*
Tears streaming down his face, Zhao Yingde asked, "Is it crisp?"
"Crisp!" Yuan Kuilong nodded repeatedly. "Damn crisp! This is a Xinlimei radish, isn't it?"
Zhao Yingde nodded vigorously. "Yes, a Xinlimei! A Xinlimei radish from Ten Thousand Plains! The very first boatload arrived at Black Sand Estuary, and I saved it just for you!"
Holding Zhao Yingde's heart, Yuan Kuilong took another huge bite, tears flowing uncontrollably. "Brother, I love nothing more than Xinlimei radishes. I knew you kept me in your heart!"
A Xinlimei was indeed a type of radish. Yuan Kuilong's tears wouldn't stop flowing simply because the radish was fiercely pungent.
Once he finished eating, Yuan Kuilong asked about the second chief. "Where did Song Yongchang go? Why haven't I seen him?"
"Aren't we still short one fool? Second Master went to an outside province to find one." Zhao Yingde summoned a subordinate named Xiaozhuzi and had him fetch needle and thread to stitch up his chest wound.
Yuan Kuilong felt something was off. "He had to go to an outside province just to catch a fool?"
With the wound halfway stitched, Zhao Yingde pulled it open to check. A new heart had already sprouted inside. While stemming the bleeding, he replied, "Second Master divined this from inspecting the bowl. He said that among the six fools, one must be an outsider, free of any Wansheng bloodline."
Yuan Kuilong wasn't buying it. "What does that have to do with bloodlines? What's the difference between an outside bloodline and a Wansheng bloodline? He just wanted an excuse to slip off to an outside province!"
"That's what Second Master said. I wouldn't know..." Zhao Yingde watched Yuan Kuilong's face, carefully weighing which words were safe to utter.
Yuan Kuilong looked grim. "Song Yongchang went through all that trouble and ran such risks to catch a fool in an outside province just to help me open the bowl? Do you honestly think he cares that much about my affairs?"
"As for what's in his heart, I really can't say. But my heart is utterly devoted—care for another slice...?" Zhao Yingde tried to steer the topic away. Friction between the first and second chiefs was something he had no desire to get caught up in.
With a sullen face, Yuan Kuilong walked out of the hostage quarters. Right before the entrance stood an apple tree, laden with green fruit.
Seeing the tree, Yuan Kuilong's mood improved considerably. "Brothers, let's eat apples!"
Zhao Yingde was startled. The chief had said they would feast when it bore fruit, but who would have thought that day would be today?
Yuan Kuilong's piss was truly formidable; his craft had grown considerably.
Seeing that no one moved, Yuan Kuilong said to Zhao Yingde, "Brother, you take one first!"
"No, Chief, you should have the first pick."
"I've already eaten. Go on, don't be polite with me."
"Chief, the fruit isn't ripe yet. Why don't we wait a couple more days?"
"No need to wait. Half-ripe apples are the best—crisp and sweet!" Yuan Kuilong picked an apple for Zhao Yingde. "Look how juicy it is. Go on, eat."
It was indeed juicy, even dripping with moisture.
It was two in the afternoon. At this hour, there shouldn't be any dew.
So where did the droplets come from?
Looking at the apple, Zhao Yingde whispered, "Chief, may I peel it first?"
"Why peel it?" Yuan Kuilong objected. "The skin has all the flavor!"
"Fine, I'll eat it. The chief truly holds me in his heart..." Moved to tears, Zhao Yingde devoured the apple.
Yuan Kuilong shouted toward the assembled bandits, "Brothers, don't be shy, eat up! Follow me today in eating apples, and tomorrow we conquer the world!"
The bandits had watched this tree grow with their own eyes.
Anyone with eyes knew this apple tree had been nurtured in a pot of golden nectar.
Was being a bandit supposed to be this hard?
None of them wanted to eat it.
Yuan Kuilong's smile vanished abruptly, striking terror into every bandit present.
"Anyone who refuses to eat an apple today is no brother of mine! Hunlong Stronghold will have no place for him!"
Everyone in Hunlong Stronghold knew Yuan Kuilong loved to joke, but no one could ever tell which words were in jest.
Chewing on his apple, Zhao Yingde bellowed, "Didn't you hear the chief's order? Eat, every damn one of you! No peeling, no washing! Anyone who doesn't eat gets their monthly pay docked to zero!"
Grit-faced, the bandits plucked fruit and began chewing.
One bandit choked back a sob. "Not even allowed to wash it... this is sheer bullying."
Watching the men eat, Yuan Kuilong was thoroughly pleased. He asked Zhao Yingde, "Did Old Song tell you what kind of person he's looking to grab?"
Zhao Yingde forced down the rest of the apple. "Second Master said it depends on affinity. He said you can't just pick any random fool from an outside province; you need someone who looks clever on the outside, but is a true idiot underneath."
"Affinity? What a load of crap!" Yuan Kuilong plucked another apple and handed it to Zhao Yingde. "The moment Old Song returns to the mountain, inform me at once. I want to see what kind of fool he brings back."
***
"Your name is Zhang Laifu?"
"Yes! 'Fu' as in good fortune!"
The interviewer nodded with satisfaction. The name sounded just right for the part.
Huan, Yuedong Province, Guancheng, Nanzhu Film and Television Base.
Beside a construction site stood a two-story prefab building bearing the sign: *Wansheng Film and Television Company*.
On the second floor was a temporary office where Wansheng was recruiting actors. The flyers had just gone out, and someone had already arrived for an interview.
The interviewer, Old Song, held Zhang Laifu's application form and, together with his assistant Lao Zheng, appraised the young man before them.
"You aren't a professional actor?"
Zhang Laifu shook his head. "I'm a college student majoring in civil engineering. I do acting part-time."
The interviewer took out an apple, wiped it against his clothes, and took a bite. "You're studying civil engineering. Why pursue an acting career?"
The real reason was that other part-time jobs were hard to come by, but Zhang Laifu felt that answer was too blunt. He chose a more tactful framing: "Architecture and cinema are both expressions of art; they merely differ in form!"
The response had some depth. The man didn't seem like an idiot at all. Old Song glanced at Lao Zheng, feeling a bit uneasy.
Lao Zheng blinked slightly, signaling Old Song to observe further.
"You have a profound understanding of art!" Old Song commended him, then scrutinized Zhang Laifu's appearance.
"An honest face, ordinary features, average build, lifeless eyes. Your body is fully intact with no severe defects. You possess the basic qualifications of an excellent actor!"
Hearing this, Zhang Laifu puffed out his chest. "Other film crews said the same thing. They told me I'm a natural-born extra."
"You've only worked as an extra before?" The interviewer examined the resume closely, finding the work history rather vague.
He asked, "Have you ever acted in a proper role?"
Zhang Laifu nodded vigorously. "Yes, I have plenty of experience!"
"Have you ever played a role with lines?"
Zhang Laifu replied tactfully, "I have been waiting for such an opportunity!"
The interviewer set down the resume and picked up a notebook, beginning with a brief self-introduction.
"I am the vice general manager of Wansheng Film and Television Company and the interviewer for this recruitment drive. My surname is Song. You may call me Manager Song, or simply Old Song."
Zhang Laifu replied earnestly, "Hello, Old Song."
Old Song finished his apple, wiped his hands, and jotted down two words in his notebook: *Insolent*.
He pulled another apple from his bag and continued, "No need to be so stiff. I'll just ask a few simple questions. Have you ever interviewed with a film company before?"
Zhang Laifu shook his head. "Never. This is my first time."
"Have you never worked with other crews?"
"I have, but I never had to interview."
"Why didn't you have to interview? Were you not qualified?"
Zhang Laifu tried to maintain a diplomatic tone. "Other places don't interview extras. They aren't as fussy as you are."
Old Song nodded slightly and wrote two more words: *Rude*.
"You're very frank. Then why choose our company?"
Zhang Laifu pointed to the flyer in his hand. "You pay more. Other places pay a hundred and thirty a day for extras. You pay a hundred and sixty."
"Do you think those thirty yuan are that important?"
"Very important! With an extra thirty yuan, I can eat a whole roast chicken tonight without needing rice to fill up!"
Old Song nodded repeatedly. "My judgment was spot on—you truly have a higher pursuit of art!"
With that, he recorded two more words: *Vulgar*.
Old Song went on, "However, let me emphasize one point: we are not some amateur troupe. Wansheng is at the forefront of the industry and holds higher standards for our staff.
"What we need is not an irresponsible temp worker, but an outstanding performing artist.
"We value not merely your talent for the craft, but more importantly, your perspective and understanding of the performing arts!
"First, tell me: what is your dream along the path of art?"
A flicker of light appeared in Zhang Laifu's otherwise lifeless eyes. He replied with absolute conviction, "Make money and live in comfort!"
Old Song was not pleased with the answer. "Your dream is simply to live in comfort?"
Zhang Laifu found nothing wrong with his response. "Isn't living in comfort your dream too?"
Old Song gave a faint smile. "Everyone's dream is different."
Zhang Laifu looked astonished. "Could someone have a dream that isn't living in comfort?"
Old Song knitted his brows and fixed his gaze on him. "Some people have loftier dreams. They want to accomplish greater achievements."
Zhang Laifu nodded in agreement. "Accomplish achievements, then live in comfort."
"Achieving things isn't just about enjoying comfort; it's also about earning the world's recognition." Old Song still attempted to guide him.
Zhang Laifu agreed once more. "Earn recognition, then live in comfort with style."
"Earning recognition is about attaining higher standing and status." Old Song's voice rose slightly.
Zhang Laifu nodded emphatically. "Attain standing and status, then live in comfort securely."
"A person cannot keep their sights fixed solely on themselves! Some spend their entire lives striving to bring blessings to many more people—that is a truly noble dream!" Old Song's expression grew increasingly stern, bordering on agitated.
Zhang Laifu raised his head, his face full of determination. "That would be leading even more people to live in comfort."
"Well... I, uh, the thing is... I truly appreciate you."
Old Song wrote two words in his notebook: *Shallow*.
Setting aside the notebook, Old Song picked up a blank sheet of paper. "There were originally two written tests for this interview, but our set is in urgent need of people. In light of your ideals and convictions regarding the acting profession, we have decided to skip the irrelevant details. We will focus purely on the performing arts and discuss core issues in the professional field."
As he spoke, Old Song began drawing on the paper with his pen.
*Thump! Ding-ding-ding! Thump! Ding-ding-ding!*
As he drew, he kept his eyes on Zhang Laifu's face.
Zhang Laifu found the sound strangely familiar, as if he had heard it somewhere before. The rhythmic tapping gave him the bizarre illusion of swirling snowflakes.
Yet that kind of sound shouldn't come from a pen tip.
Old Song slid the paper over to Zhang Laifu. "If you were a train driver, what would you choose?"
Seeing the prompt, Zhang Laifu felt a pang of resignation.
It was that tired, overused dilemma: a train running toward a switch in the tracks, with ten people tied to the left track and one person tied to the right.
Chewing on his apple, Old Song looked at Zhang Laifu with profound eyes.
For a fool, this question might be pushing it.
"Difficult, isn't it? Never seen it before?" Old Song offered a thin smile.
Zhang Laifu replied, "How could I not have seen it? Is this your first day interviewing people?"
"*Cough, cough, cough!*"
Old Song coughed several times.
He picked up his pen, pondered for a long time, and wrote three words: *Motherfucker*.
Zhang Laifu frowned deeply. He detested questions like this.
He was a college senior, and seniors had to find work. Interviewers had thrown countless variations of this problem at him, and in his memory, whatever answer you gave was considered wrong.
More importantly, what did this have to do with the performing arts? What did this have to do with hiring extras?
Yet no matter how much he hated it, for the sake of that whole chicken tonight, he had to provide a presentable answer.
Seeing Zhang Laifu plunge into deep thought made Old Song feel much better. "Laifu, if you don't know, just say so. Don't pretend to understand what you don't!
"Let me give you a hint: project your genuine emotions into the character. Truly imagine yourself as the train driver. It's called empathy—do you understand?"
With Old Song's hint, a thought immediately struck Zhang Laifu. Adopting the mindset of an actor, he placed himself in character and delivered a rigorous response: "I don't know how to drive a train."
"*Cough, cough, cough!*"
Old Song went into another coughing fit as an apple seed hitched in his throat.
"Laifu, let's assume you know how to drive a train."
Zhang Laifu answered with utmost gravity, "That has nothing to do with the driver. The switchman decides where the train goes."
*Wait! This guy knows quite a bit.*
*Is he really a fool?*
Old Song nodded. "You have good common sense. Now let's assume I'm the switchman, and the lever is in my hands."
*Thump! Ding-ding-ding!*
Old Song used his pen to draw a switchman gripping the lever. "If I throw it to the left, the train goes left. If I throw it to the right, the train goes right. Which side do you think I should choose?"
He deliberately showed off his craft in front of Zhang Laifu to observe his reaction.
Zhang Laifu looked at the drawn switchman. It was remarkably lifelike.
Since the interviewer placed so much weight on this question, Zhang Laifu had to bring out real substance if he wanted the job.
Organizing his words, he answered, "You can choose whichever you like. Either way, no one will say you were wrong."
Old Song squinted at Zhang Laifu, failing to grasp his meaning. "How could no one say I was wrong?"
Zhang Laifu replied, "The train already ran over them. Who's left to say you were wrong?"
Old Song processed that for a moment, then caught on.
Once the train passed, the survivors would naturally say Old Song had done no wrong.
And even if the dead believed he was wrong, they wouldn't be speaking up.
Old Song's heart suspended in midair, and Lao Zheng's brow furrowed tightly.
*Is this guy an idiot or not?*
After a long silence, Old Song told Zhang Laifu, "I am a good person."
Zhang Laifu looked at Old Song, then down at the drawing, and asked earnestly, "If you're a good person, why did you tie people to the tracks?"
That struck right at the heart of the matter.
Old Song pressed, "Do you think I was the one who tied them up?"
Zhang Laifu countered, "Then tell me, who tied them up?"
Old Song was at a loss. "I don't know who tied them up either!"
Zhang Laifu was equally helpless. "If you don't know anything, why are you asking me?"
Old Song stared intently at him. "Have you ever felt you had intellectual issues?"
Zhang Laifu shook his head. "My intellect is fine. Both my professors and classmates say my intelligence is great."
"What did they say to you?"
"They told me: 'Your IQ is downright terrifying!'" Zhang Laifu looked back at Old Song, waiting for his next question.
Old Song caressed the drawing on the desk. "What do you think of my artwork?"
"Pretty good," Zhang Laifu replied honestly.
"Look closer!"
*Thump-ding-ding-ding! Thump-ding-ding-ding!*
This time Old Song didn't use a pen; he painted directly onto the paper with his fingertips.
Where there had only been tracks, a train, and people, mountains and rivers now materialized, along with a city faintly visible in the distance, rendering the scene astonishingly vivid and dimensional.
Truly three-dimensional.
The mountains on the page had actually risen up in relief, sculpted from some unknown material.
Old Song held up the drawing and waved it before Zhang Laifu. "Did you see how I drew this?"
He wanted to instill fear in Zhang Laifu.
No matter how well a fool disguised himself as a normal person, his true nature would be exposed in the face of terror.
Zhang Laifu looked at the drawing, then back at Old Song. "Do you want me to look at the drawing, or look at you?"
The two stared at each other for nearly a minute without speaking.
Zhang Laifu's eyes were full of eager expectation.
Could he land this hundred-and-sixty-a-day gig?
Old Song reopened his notebook and added two more words: *Simple-minded*.
Excluding the *Motherfucker*, five descriptors remained:
*Insolent, Rude, Vulgar, Shallow, Simple-minded.*
With so many traits combined in one person, who could possibly doubt he was a fool?
Reading over the five terms twice, Old Song passed the notebook back to Lao Zheng.
"Old Zheng, it's rare to find someone who possesses so many fine qualities all at once. Do you think he'll do?"
After looking it over, Lao Zheng nodded. "I think he'll do!"
Old Song retrieved a contract from the desk drawer and handed it to Zhang Laifu. "You're hired. From now on, you're an official actor with Wansheng Film and Television."