"I don't know anything about acting," said Grandma Hu calmly.
Shang Yechu had already guessed this outcome, so she wasn't too disappointed. She just felt even more powerless.
"My interview is in a week." Shang Yechu buried her face in the desk, the hard surface pressing her face flat. "What should I do... Grandma, should I just take over the street corner and come back to sell scallion pancakes?"
"How old are you? Still acting like a child." Grandma Hu patted Shang Yechu's head. "What kind of role do you want to play? Tell Grandma. I'm old enough to have seen it all. Maybe I can give you some advice."
Shang Yechu said listlessly, "He is an extremely great person who is very far removed from me."
Grandma Hu snorted: "What's the difference between this and not answering at all? I've taught one or two thousand students, and every single one of them said I was great when they wrote greeting cards for me."
Shang Yechu had to elaborate: "He was an underground worker. A martyr of the underground Communist Party. The kind who had been in hiding for many years. No matter how I acted, I couldn't capture that noble quality; instead, I came across as sneaky."
Grandma Hu was taken aback: "You can act in this kind of subject matter?"
Shang Yechu: "..."
Perhaps due to years of communicating with students who couldn't understand human speech, Grandma Hu's language style has always been very straightforward. For example, at this moment, she is openly expressing her contempt for Shang Yechu's acting skills... her distrust.
Shang Yechu forced a bright smile: "The age is right, I'm honored to be your equal."
Grandma Hu said "Oh," and shook her head: "It's hopeless. You definitely can't play this kind of role well."
"Huh? Why?" Shang Yechu immediately became a little unconvinced. "What's wrong with me?"
If it weren't Old Mrs. Hu sitting opposite her, but someone else, Shang Yechu would have jumped up and down by now.
Grandma Hu took off her reading glasses, and Shang Yechu fawned over her, taking the glasses and wiping them clean for her.
As Grandma Hu watched Shang Yechu's actions, her dim old eyes narrowed slightly, and she sighed, "You are a person without faith."
"..."
Shang Yechu stopped wiping her glasses, as if something had swept away the fog in her heart. She looked at Old Mrs. Hu with undisguised astonishment.
Grandma Hu tapped the jar lightly with her fingertips: "You're such a heavy-hearted child. You doubt everything, believe nothing, and are afraid of everything. Asking you to believe in anything is harder than climbing to heaven."
Isn't this a commendable virtue of an undercover agent? Shang Yechu really wanted to ask that question. An undercover agent who so readily trusts others would have been dead a thousand and eight hundred times over. But out of respect for the old lady, she remained silent.
"You're up to your old tricks again, aren't you?" Old Mrs. Hu said, both amused and exasperated. "Think about it yourself, are your thoughts even correct?"
Shang Yechu lowered her head and pondered for a moment, still remaining silent.
“When I was in school, I taught Chinese and often told my students that people can’t believe in what they don’t have. So some of my students’ narrative essays were more sentimental than sincere… His mother carried him to the hospital four or five times when he had a high fever, which made people want to laugh.”
Shang Yechu seemed to understand, but was still somewhat unwilling: "But acting is fake. Does that mean that people who act in fantasy dramas actually have to cultivate Taoism?"
Grandma Hu shook her head and sighed, "I don't know about that. The logic of acting is quite different from writing an essay. I never teach my students things I don't understand myself. Since you think so, then I..."
"Hey, Grandma!" Shang Yechu quickly handed the reading glasses to Grandma Hu. "Tell me, tell me, I want to hear it."
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