Chapter 3: Character Profile: Zhou Xingchi
Chapter 3: Character Card: Zhou Xingchi
After a dozen minutes, Chen Ping saw Li Bo bring an elderly gentleman onto the stage.
Chen Ping felt a faint familiarity with the old man but couldn’t recall where he had seen him before.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Chen Ping,” Li Bo said.
“I was just taking a short break—felt a bit nervous earlier,” Chen Ping replied.
“Nervous?” Li Bo’s forehead creased with three black lines as he thought inwardly, I’m even more nervous than you.
“Chen Ping, I just watched your performance—it was excellent. I will be the one to conduct your final assessment,” the elderly man beside Li Bo spoke directly to Chen Ping.
“You’re one of the examiners?” Chen Ping asked hesitantly.
It was best if today’s exam went smoothly.
After he had just overclocked his system, his popularity points had vanished like flowing water.
He hadn’t accumulated much fame as an extra in Heng City to begin with, so this loss was significant.
Of course, if he passed the assessment, it would be fine.
Popularity points could always be earned back later, but if someone else faltered, he would lose his mind.
He had spent nearly a year building that popularity on the Kuai Dou streaming platform through persuasion.
If he failed this test, he’d want to strangle that guy.
“Don’t you recognize Professor Jiang?” Li Bo asked in disbelief.
Who in Heng City’s acting scene didn’t know Professor Jiang?
“Well, he does look familiar. I just want to ask—does this examiner’s assessment count toward the score?”
“Chen Ping, you’re quite amusing,” Jiang Tianxing laughed heartily. “Of course it counts. If you pass my assessment, I’ll definitely recommend you for a role.”
“Really?”
“Chen Ping, Professor Jiang is the president of our Heng City Actors’ Guild. Do you think I’m lying?”
“Oh… so you’re President Jiang. Hello, President Jiang,” Chen Ping said with a slight bow.
No wonder he seemed familiar—it was the president himself.
But he couldn’t blame himself; he was just an extra who had been using the system’s cheats to earn popularity and talent points since his arrival. Who cared if it was the president?
Besides, when he was an extra, the president never assigned him roles, so why would he pay any attention?
“Alright, let’s begin,” Jiang Tianxing said, getting to the point. “Chen Ping, I believe you know the last assessment is an acting test. Please watch this video.”
A clip appeared on the large screen at the assessment venue.
Everyone present was extremely familiar with it, including Chen Ping.
It was a scene from *The King of Comedy*, featuring the protagonist Yin Tianqiu’s iconic line to Liu Piaopiao: “I’ll support you.”
The clip was brief—just one minute—but it was hailed by countless people as a classic, never surpassed.
“Chen Ping, I’m sure you know this scene well,” Jiang Tianxing smiled as the video ended. “Your task is to portray Yin Tianqiu in this scene.”
---
“I can’t believe this…” Chen Ping was stunned when he heard the assessment topic.
What kind of test was this?
Even with the system, it wasn’t all-powerful.
The system’s overclocking could greatly enhance acting skills, but being an all-rounder didn’t mean being the absolute best.
Zhou Xingchi’s portrayal of Yin Tianqiu had been a textbook example taught in major art schools for decades.
Such superb acting—only after reaching a high system level could he hope to rival it.
“President Jiang, this test…” Chen Ping hesitated. “Are other candidates taking the same test?”
If so, Chen Ping was certain it would eliminate every candidate.
Not just them— even seasoned actors aiming for Best Actor might not pass.
It wasn’t that other actors were inferior; Zhou Xingchi’s style was uniquely his own.
“Chen Ping, this test was specially designed for you. But don’t worry. Though I set this challenge, you don’t have to compete with Mr. Zhou Xingchi. You only need to deliver your own performance.”
“How do I pass?”
“That depends on the strength of your performance.”
Art exams had standards, but no definitive criteria.
Chen Ping felt conflicted.
He didn’t know whether to be happy or sad about this challenge.
Happy because the president clearly valued him and gave him a highly challenging task.
Sad because failing this single test would be tragic.
“You have five minutes to prepare. This teacher will play Liu Piaopiao’s role with you,” Jiang Tianxing said, handing over the time.
“Alright.”
Chen Ping closed his eyes.
He wasn’t thinking—he was searching his inventory for an actor’s character card.
When the system first appeared, it had given him a beginner’s pack that included an actor character card.
With this card, Chen Ping could select and replicate an actor’s skills at 100%.
But the card could be used only once.
He had been tossing it around while working as an extra because there was no role to apply it to.
Not that he didn’t want to use it—it was just useless without a part.
An extra had no roles; even if he used the card, he’d only be acting for himself.
[System: Would you like to use the actor character card?]
[Yes or No.]
He chose yes.
The card vanished from his inventory instantly.
Then, the system panel displayed a list of famous actors: Chen Long, Li Lianjie, Chow Yun-fat, Tony Leung, Lau Tak-wah, Louis Koo…
Scrolling through, Chen Ping finally found Zhou Xingchi.
[System: Host has selected Zhou Xingchi.]
---
Suddenly, Chen Ping shuddered.
“Huh…”
For some reason, Jiang Tianxing felt like Chen Ping had become a different person.
Chen Ping took off his jacket, revealing a tank top underneath.
Then he kicked off his shoes, standing barefoot.
“Can we start?” Li Bo asked.
Chen Ping nodded.
The assessment officially began.
The female examiner playing Liu Piaopiao stood before Chen Ping.
He ran his hand through his hair, barefoot, appearing both serious and casual as he called out, “Hey…”
“What?” Liu Piaopiao turned back.
“Let’s go.”
“Yeah.”
“Where to?”
“Home.”
When Liu Piaopiao finished, Chen Ping, somewhat reluctant, asked, “Then what?”
“Go to work.”
Chen Ping pretended not to care, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Can’t I skip work?”
“If you don’t work, who’s going to support me?”
Chen Ping laughed—a self-mocking smile.
Liu Piaopiao hummed softly, waved her right hand, and turned away.
Chen Ping awkwardly waved back.
After a moment, watching her walk farther, Chen Ping strode after her.
Again, “Hey…”
But it didn’t sound quite the same.
Facing Liu Piaopiao, Chen Ping seemed unusually nervous.
Liu Piaopiao lit a cigarette and looked back: “What now?”
Chen Ping lowered his head, silent.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something.
But for those three seconds, his pride held him back.
Finally, Chen Ping lifted his head and said, “I’ll support you.”
Standing there, he felt a sudden lightness, yet also a heavy tension.
He was waiting—he wanted a response.
Liu Piaopiao turned back with a smirk: “You should take care of yourself first, fool…”
The one-minute performance ended swiftly.
But afterward, all the examiners, including President Jiang, stared at Chen Ping in stunned silence.
In their eyes, the man before them was none other than Zhou Xingchi himself, the King of Comedy.
(End of chapter)