Chapter 20: Leave

Chapter 20: Requesting Leave

[Absolutely not.]

Lu Yuan’s reply was curt and unyielding, leaving Lin Shenshi on the verge of tears.

He felt like the living embodiment of the "Farmer and the Snake" fable; he had kindly helped draft replies, only to find himself entangled with Lu Yuan.

Yet, a forceful refusal was out of the question. Angering Lu Yuan would be far more perilous than a mere snakebite.

Lin Shenshi carefully chose his words:

[Teacher Lu, I genuinely have plans this weekend. If you grant me tomorrow off, I promise to make up for it with double the effort on Sunday.]

This time, a full five minutes passed before Lu Yuan’s reply popped up in the chat box.

[Come to my office.]

[Now?]

[Now.]

Lin Shenshi felt a splitting headache coming on.

On the adjacent bed, Yu Lanzhao was already fast asleep.

Ever since he started working overtime at the convenience store, he had been collapsing into bed almost immediately.

Lin Shenshi pondered for a moment, then quietly slipped on his trousers and jacket before tiptoeing out of the dormitory.

The autumn chill bit at his neck. Fearing he might wake Yu Lanzhao, Lin Shenshi hadn't even changed out of his pajamas. Now, the wind cut right through him, chilling him to the bone.

Silently cursing Lu Yuan eight hundred times, Lin Shenshi jogged with a grim expression. By the time he reached Office 803, Lu Yuan was leisurely sipping black tea.

The rising steam lent the man a remarkably healthy glow.

Meanwhile, Lin Shenshi had just let out several loud sneezes.

The stark contrast in their states made him secretly wish for someone to suffer a sleepless night.

Though his mind was a tangled mess of frustration, Lin Shenshi dared not show the slightest disrespect. He plastered on a standard smile and said, "Teacher Lu, I’m here."

Lu Yuan lifted his gaze to him, then frowned in distaste. "Is this how I taught you to smile?"

A crucial part of acting training was emotional expression—joy, anger, sorrow, hatred, worry, ruthlessness, contemplation, disdain—each emotion held profound nuances. Lu Yuan alone had taught dozens of types of smiles, each corresponding to different scenarios and reactions.

The smile Lin Shenshi wore at that moment, Lu Yuan unceremoniously categorized as a "hollow, fake smile."

Lin Shenshi immediately dropped the smile.

Lu Yuan set down his teacup, interlaced his fingers beneath his chin, and his deep eyes calmly scrutinized him. "Tell me, what are you doing this weekend?"

Even though he was standing and thus taller than the seated Lu Yuan, Lin Shenshi felt no sense of superiority. Instead, he felt like a microorganism placed by its keeper into a petri dish, utterly exposed under a thousand-fold magnification.

Lin Shenshi tensed nervously. "I plan to go for an audition."

Lu Yuan raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

Indeed, at the Performing Arts Academy, it was common for students to seek out casting calls and attend auditions in their free time. Lu Yuan had received numerous leave requests citing "going out to film," so this was not an isolated incident.

However, in the past year or so, he had never received one from Lin Shenshi.

Recalling the six-figure balance in his bank account, Lin Shenshi deeply felt that poverty was the primary motivator for hard work.

He cleared his throat. "One must always strive for progress, mustn't one? I truly was too lax in the past. I’ve reflected deeply and decided to redouble my efforts, dedicate myself to diligent study, and hone my acting skills. Only then can I truly honor Teacher Lu’s cultivation and guidance!"

Lin Shenshi spoke with conviction, portraying himself as a prodigal son who had seen the light, as if anyone who denied him would be a stumbling block to the progress of a new socialist youth.

Lu Yuan asked, "What script? Which role?"

Lin Shenshi blurted out:

"*Long Moon Star River*, Sixth Male Lead."

As an S+-tier major production with an investment exceeding a hundred million, *Long Moon Star River* had been openly casting for nearly a month.

To be fortunate enough to be selected would mean collaborating with numerous big names and veteran actors—a rare and invaluable opportunity.

In the original novel, Yu Lanzhao had auditioned for the Sixth Male Lead.

This role, though not extensive, featured an excellent character—a deeply devoted, unrequited male supporting character who silently protected the female lead without vying for her affection, ultimately dying tragically at the hands of the villain to save her. This plot point was designed to bring audiences to tears.

Yu Lanzhao’s naturally delicate appearance, with his clear, innocent, deer-like eyes, perfectly suited the Sixth Male Lead, creating a synergy that was more than the sum of its parts. Ultimately, his outstanding looks and superb acting left a profound impression on audiences.

And with this role, he won the Best Newcomer Award the following year.

Lin Shenshi’s compatibility with this role was only moderate, but he was unfamiliar with other characters. So, he claimed he was auditioning for the Sixth Male Lead.

After all, Lu Yuan wouldn't know if he actually went or not. If asked about the audition results later, he could simply say he wasn't selected.

This opportunity was so enticing and sweet that applicants could line up from Tiananmen Square to the Eiffel Tower. Not being chosen wouldn't be surprising.

In the original novel, if it weren't for the behind-the-scenes manipulation by the wealthy tycoon Yin Yunxian, the inexperienced Yu Lanzhao might not have easily gained the director's favor.

Lin Shenshi spoke without a trace of guilt: "This character is devoted, brave, fearless, and resolute, with unwavering love for the female lead. Teacher Lu, I truly adore this role, and I don’t want to miss this opportunity. Please, just let me go~"

He drew out the final syllable, sounding exactly like a child pleading with parents for candy.

Meanwhile, Lin Shenshi nearly gagged inwardly. He hadn't used such a tone since middle school. He was truly going all out to ensure he could leave campus tomorrow.

Lu Yuan’s frown deepened, as if he had stepped on sticky chewing gum.

And the more disgusted Lu Yuan was with him, the greater the chance he’d want him out of his sight. Lin Shenshi felt hopeful.

A moment later, Lu Yuan rubbed his brow. "Go ahead."

"You agreed?!"

Lu Yuan responded with a low hum, not forgetting to add, "You must make up for all of it on Sunday."

"No problem!" Lin Shenshi was so overjoyed he almost spun on the spot, but he remembered he was in his tyrannical teacher’s office and managed to restrain himself.

Suddenly, his gaze fell on the right hand resting on Lu Yuan’s brow, and he asked in surprise, "Teacher Lu, has your hand injury healed?"

Lu Yuan froze.

It had been over a week since his right hand was injured by glass shards. By now, it should have mostly healed, but whenever Lin Shenshi tactfully tried to decline the reply-writing task, Lu Yuan would painfully lift his bandaged right hand, forcing Lin Shenshi to swallow his prepared excuses.

It had even escalated to the point where Lin Shenshi had to report to the office every evening, making it incredibly difficult for him to ask for leave to go out on weekends.

But now, that right hand looked completely normal.

Lin Shenshi couldn't help but lean in for a closer look, but Lu Yuan placed his hand under the desk, blocking Lin Shenshi’s view.

"It’s usable, but the doctor said it’s not suitable for delicate movements," Lu Yuan replied casually, yet seemingly with a hidden meaning.

Lin Shenshi felt a pang of disappointment—so he still couldn't write?

"Did the doctor say how much longer it will take?"

Lu Yuan: "No, just that it needs quiet rest."

Lin Shenshi groaned internally.

This male lead looks strong and healthy, so why is his recovery ability worse than that of the delicate, soft *shòu*?!

Recalling the original plot, the bottom protagonist was injured more than once by them in bed, yet he recovered within a couple of days. Could it be that in an NSFW novel, the bottom protagonist has some uniquely resilient body?

Compared to the bottom protagonist, the male lead's hand couldn’t withstand a piece of broken glass!

It’s been nearly two weeks now, and it still hasn't healed!

How can the gap between the *gōng* and *shòu* in the same book be so huge?!

Lin Shenshi really wanted to crawl into the author's brain to see what nonsense she was writing—where's the basic logic???

Oh, wait, the person who wrote this novel must have no brains at all.

—It's all just fucking porn!

Lin Shenshi glumly left the office. Watching the young man’s back disappear beyond the door, Lu Yuan lifted his cup of black tea with his right hand.

That very hand, which supposedly still needed an unknown period of rest to heal, was steady and strong.

Lu Yuan took a sip, a glint flashing behind his gold-rimmed glasses. He set down the teacup and opened the computer beside him.

As he pressed the enter key, a well-produced promotional poster appeared on the webpage, with bold text that read—

*Long Moon Star River* Actor Recruitment

Many male and female supporting roles were listed prominently. Lu Yuan skimmed through them briefly before scrolling to the bottom.

Director: Tang Sen

He found the corresponding number in his phone contacts and dialed.

After a few rings, the call connected, and a middle-aged man's voice came through the receiver, filled with disbelief:

"Film Emperor Lu?!"

"It's me."

Hearing Lu Yuan's voice, the other party grew even more excited: "It really is you! I thought I was seeing things from all those late nights reviewing actor resumes! Do you... do you have any instructions for me?"

"Director Tang, you flatter me. I'm just a nobody teacher—how could I dare to give instructions? Besides, I've left the entertainment industry. You can just call me by my name."

Tang Sen repeatedly insisted he wouldn't dare. After some back-and-forth, he cautiously said, "Since you insist, I'll boldly call you Brother Lu."

Truth be told, Tang Sen was actually a few years older than Lu Yuan, but in the entertainment industry, seniority isn’t about age. Given Lu Yuan's achievements, Tang Sen calling him "Brother Lu" was already a sign of respect.

Lu Yuan tapped his fingers on the desk like a steady metronome. After some small talk, he cut to the chase: "I heard your new film is recruiting actors? Has the sixth male lead been finalized?"

Tang Sen glanced down at the two stacks of paper in his hand. Coincidentally, they were the headshots of actors who had submitted applications for the sixth male lead role. After the casting director’s initial screening, over 30 remained for him to decide on. If none of these were suitable, he would have to look among those coming to audition tomorrow.

But after all, it was just a sixth male lead—a supporting role not even important enough to be part of any ranking disputes, with relatively few scenes. Why would Lu Yuan personally inquire about it?

Having been in the entertainment industry for years, Tang Sen quickly put two and two together. He smiled and said, "Not yet. Do you have someone to recommend, Brother Lu?"

A quiet "Mm" came from the other end of the line, followed by Lu Yuan's voice: "I'll recommend someone to you. They'll come to audition tomorrow."

"If you're recommending someone, Brother Lu, there's no need for an audition," Tang Sen quickly replied. "Just have them come directly. I'll take down the online recruitment notice for the sixth male lead right away."

"No need. Hold the audition as planned."

"This..." Tang Sen was somewhat puzzled but, after a moment of consideration, said, "Alright. Could you tell me the person's name?"

A deep voice, mingled with the static from the spotty connection, carried a hint of tenderness even its owner seemed unaware of.

Lu Yuan softly uttered:

"His name is... Lin Shenshi."