Chapter Nineteen: Those Who Learn from Me Live; Those Who Imitate Me Die

“Yes, I’m from Harbin in Heilongjiang Province.”

Seeing that Xu Ming recognized her, Xiao Songjia calmed down and adopted a resigned, carefree attitude.

“What made you decide to study in the Magic City?”

Xu Ming flipped through her profile—still listed as a contracted artist with Orange Sky Entertainment.

But that made sense; after all, the Magic City was the stronghold of Orange Sky Entertainment, and having studied at the Shanghai Theatre Academy, signing with them was already a good outcome.

“No comment,” Xiao Songjia replied.

Tsk, still a feisty one.

“Alright, pick a scene and get ready. We’ll start in ten minutes,” Xu Ming said.

Besides recognizing her, he genuinely thought she might suit the role of Huang Xiaoxian.

Though she wasn’t the same type of actress as Bai Baihe, that didn’t mean she couldn’t handle the same character.

After all, she had formal training, had won the Golden Rooster and Golden Tripod Best Actress awards, as well as the Magnolia Award for Best Actress. Her acting skills and character portrayal were strong.

Xiao Songjia selected a scene and moved to a corner to prepare.

Meanwhile, everyone else’s eyes flickered between her and Xu Ming, their recent exchange too intimate to ignore, sparking suspicions of some inside information.

“Do you know each other?” Teng Huatao asked.

“First time meeting downstairs,” Xu Ming answered.

Teng Huatao said nothing, unsure whether to believe him.

In any case, they would judge by the acting soon enough. Huang Xiaoxian was the central figure in “Love Is Not Blind,” and a poor performance meant half the film was doomed.

If Xu Ming was bluffing, he wouldn’t have agreed so easily.

Ten minutes passed.

Xiao Songjia nodded to those behind the table. “I’m ready.”

“The part where Huang Xiaoxian answers Wang Xiaojian’s call, right? Hey, you, you assist her with the scene...” Teng Huatao pointed to the assistant director.

Xu Ming cut in smoothly, “I’ll help.”

Wow, that was quite an unusual attitude. No other actress had ever received such treatment during auditions.

Everyone exchanged a meaningful glance, silently noting this.

So, Ming-ge really liked this kind of actress.

If Xu Ming heard that, he’d probably protest, “Kids pick sides; adults want it all.”

“Huang Xiaoxian, come over to the window.”

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Xu Ming’s command of lines was solid. He had trained specifically on breath control and tongue twisters to ensure clear diction, so the audience could hear every word onstage.

The biggest difference between professional and non-professional actors often lay in articulation.

Most people just managed to speak clearly, but many had issues like swallowing words or unstable breath. It might not be noticeable in daily life, but when recording and listening back, it sounded awkward—either too rushed or too slow.

One actor frequently criticized for his delivery was Yang Zhigang, who spoke too slowly. His brother, a director, had even crafted a stuttering male lead role just for him...

“What do you want now?” Xiao Songjia uttered, her tone genuinely confused.

Not only was this the character Huang Xiaoxian’s puzzlement toward Wang Xiaojian, but also Xiao Songjia’s confusion about Xu Ming’s coaching.

They only bumped into each other; how could that turn into romance? Did he think this was a romance drama with “love at the corner” clichés?

“Just a few steps, come over.”

“I’m coming. And then, you’re going to coax me to open the window and jump?”

“What do you see?”

“Nothing but darkness.”

Xiao Songjia said impatiently.

“Wait, reconsider the relationship between the characters. By this point in the story, they’ve developed feelings. Impatience is a shallow expression; the underlying tone is intimacy,” Xu Ming interrupted.

He might not know how to direct acting properly, but he’d seen the original “Love Is Not Blind.”

With Bai Baihe’s exquisite performance as a benchmark, he could easily spot the difference in Xiao Songjia’s rushed attempt.

It wasn’t that her acting was inferior; it was simply that she was less familiar with the script, having just started working on the role ten minutes ago.

Bai Baihe, on the other hand, had fully embodied the character and shot multiple takes on set, selecting the best.

Before starring in “Love Is Not Blind,” Bai Baihe’s acting experience was less extensive than Xiao Songjia’s current résumé.

As the male lead, Xu Ming was overstepping by directing the actress, but as the screenwriter, it was somewhat understandable.

Everyone pretended not to notice this blatant on-the-spot coaching.

There was no such thing as live direction during auditions.

Still, to be honest, Xiao Songjia’s performance was far better than the other actresses’, which was partly why it silenced their doubts.

“Okay, let me organize it,” she said.

Xiao Songjia clearly understood Xu Ming was helping, so she didn’t refuse with pretension.

Fair auditions were a myth in showbiz. Those who could pull strings or use underhanded methods had the true edge.

Like the actresses who appeared in the hallway today, none came without connections or leaks; some even had early access to the full script.

Most actresses didn’t even know about the “Love Is Not Blind” auditions.

After Xiao Songjia reorganized her performance under Xu Ming’s guidance and resumed the audition, her acting visibly improved.

Xu Ming didn’t continue to lecture; he only hoped she would align more with the original performance, while still leaving stylistic control to the actress herself.

“Those who imitate me live; those who copy me die”—the balance had to be right.

“I think it’s good. What do you think?” Teng Huatao said.

He was gradually coming to terms with his laissez-faire role. Without a strong desire for control, having someone who understood the script like Xu Ming to help was a relief.

“Let’s put her on the shortlist and see.”

Xu Ming remained impartial and told Xiao Songjia, “Thank you. We’ll notify you once we have a result.”

“Okay,” she nodded and put on her trench coat before leaving the room.

Xu Ming flipped through the profiles again, then suddenly paused, pointing at a photo. “Did this actress come today?”

The assistant director glanced and compared with the list. “Doesn’t seem like it. Should I contact Orange Sky and ask them to send this Tang Yan for an audition?”

“No need.”

Xu Ming waved it off. This actress was infamously known as the ‘disgrace of the Shanghai Theatre Academy.’ She might be able to handle an idol drama, but better not bring trouble to the crew.

The profile showed Tang Yan was part of Orange Sky’s heavily promoted group, the Orange Sky Seven Princesses.

Looking at the other six princesses, Xu Ming didn’t recognize a single one.

The subsequent actresses auditioning were increasingly unsuitable. Even Guan Tingna from Benshan Media, someone Xu Ming was familiar with, was crossed off without sentiment.

That left only three actresses strongly backed by the three investment parties, besides Xiao Songjia, as candidates for Huang Xiaoxian.

One was Cheng Yi from Sohu Entertainment, who debuted as the 2006 “Sogou Female Voice” champion.

Another was Jiang Yishan from Benshan Media, also debuting in 2006’s “Country Love” and currently a highly promoted actress.

The last was Jiang Yiyan.

Yes, the latter hadn’t even attended the audition, busy promoting “Nanjing! Nanjing!” with director Lu Chuan.

As an Orange Sky artist, Xiao Songjia had only played a minor role in “Red Cliff,” with no real resources.

She was signed by Wang Jinghua to Orange Sky Entertainment and had originally planned to leave with her, but hesitated and chose to stay.

Who would have expected Jiang Yiyan to rise rapidly, leaving Xiao Songjia’s position in the company awkward and uncertain.