Chapter 155 Preparation

“Why do our actions feel so… shady, as if we’ve done something guilty?” Song Wan asked, caught between laughter and tears.

Although she was concerned about the Guo family pulling any malicious tricks, she and the others were hardly afraid of them should their actions come to light.

Still, the butler’s furtive behavior genuinely amused her.

However, since this was well-intentioned on the butler’s part, after a brief exchange of glances, the group still hurried out of the Guo residence.

An ambulance was parked not far away, dispatched specifically to pick them up.

“I didn’t expect them to arrive so quickly…” Song Wan paused in surprise, having assumed they would have to wait quite a while longer for the Peace Hospital ambulance to show up.

Without dwelling on it, Song Wan helped Mother Guo into the ambulance.

-

With the matter concerning Guo Kai temporarily settled, Song Wan returned straight to the production set.

“To recruit actors by posting publicly on Weibo—this is getting close to the talent shows of yesteryear,” Director Zhou grumbled, sitting on the sofa with a furrowed brow, looking far from pleased.

Back when talent shows first emerged, they were a nationwide craze, sweeping across the entire country.

Yet today, looking at the stack of actor portfolios in his hands, Zhou Qi could not help but sigh.

He had assumed that even if numerous actors rushed to compete for the roles in *Starlight*, the number wouldn't be overwhelmingly massive—

After all, with so many eyes watching, anyone coming to audition without real talent wouldn't just fail to secure any screen time; even if they did manage to land a few frames, they would merely become the butt of everyone's jokes.

Why bother?

However, Zhou Qi had thought his understanding of the entertainment industry was profound enough, only for reality to prove that he was still too naive.

Never mind those in the circle who had struggled for years without a breakthrough; now that an opportunity finally presented itself, they would toss aside all dignity and stoop to any limit just to grab some exposure, even if it meant making fools of themselves.

What did making a fool of oneself matter? As long as they could become famous, none of them were afraid!

Besides, as Zhou Qi himself knew all too well, there truly were a great many individuals in this industry who possessed genuine talent yet remained buried and unnoticed.

Furthermore, while Zhou Qi had single-mindedly assumed that only established industry insiders would audition for these roles, he had never considered those outsiders harboring stardom dreams who desperately wanted to break through, yet lingered outside the circle due to a lack of connections...

This might very well be the only opportunity they would ever grasp, because an open casting call of this scale was a once-in-a-lifetime event.

—It wasn't that production crews hadn't claimed to hold open casting calls or auditions for specific roles in the past. Yet, those so-called open castings and public auditions usually saw only insiders actually knowing the location...

—Even if they weren't strict insiders, they were at least people with one foot already inside the circle.

—For instance, students from film academies, individuals who could acquire the audition address through certain channels, or background extras working in the film studios.

Having had much more contact with these people in her past life, Song Wan understood them far better.

Therefore, looking at the substantial stack of actor portfolios, Song Wan merely shrugged, completely unfazed: “Director Zhou, just take a look at the resumes these actors submitted, and you’ll understand why there are so many.”

In truth, only a small fraction consisted of genuinely talented actors. Of the remainder, a small portion comprised experienced extras, film academy students, and contracted artists who possessed good looks but lacked acting skills and thus remained obscure. As for the vast majority, they were absolute amateurs who had never touched acting a day in their lives.

They might simply have an interest in acting and wanted to give it a try;

They might be curious about the casting process and wanted to join in the excitement;

But above all, they were outsiders dazzled by the glamorous lifestyle of celebrities, hoping to try their luck.

Zhou Qi’s expression darkened instantly: “No acting skills, no experience—are they submitting resumes to the crew just to be funny? It needlessly increases the workload for the production staff.”

Song Wan chuckled: “Director Zhou, since we were already worried about the audition process being dry and lacking substance, having this many people join in will easily fill an entire episode. It also saves us the time and effort of scheming up gimmicks during the preliminary auditions.”

Previously, worried that the preliminary rounds wouldn't yield enough usable footage for editing, the crew's editors had constantly pressured them to conjure up various flashy gimmicks.

Now, with so many people showing up, the editors would surely be able to stitch together at least one thrilling episode, right?

Zhou Qi: “…”

He hardly knew what to make of Song Wan. Wasn't she the one who had all along wanted to turn this reality show, *Acting Titans*, into a classic? Why was she suddenly complaining that it took too much effort?

Song Wan gave him a deadpan stare: “Director Zhou, this show doesn't just take effort; it drains brainpower... It hasn't even been that long, and I feel like my brain cells are nearly dying off. If I have to keep brainstorming like this, I'm going to turn into a fool.”

Having never personally participated in the production of a variety show before, Song Wan had initially plunged into creating this program somewhat naively. But once she actually got hands-on, she realized just how difficult it was.

The original concept written in the proposal was quite good, and the show's positioning had been clearly defined. However, because the staff member who drafted the proposal knew nothing about acting—at least, nothing about auditions—they hadn't designed an actual audition workflow for the program.

—That staff member felt that since he didn't understand auditions, writing something inaccurate would only invite public criticism, so he simply left that part entirely to Zhou Qi and the others.

Yet the current predicament was that while Song Wan and her team were crystal clear on acting and auditions, they were completely in the dark when it came to variety shows...

Song Wan and Zhou Qi were nearly at their wits' end.

They had brainstormed nearly a hundred audition processes, only to be told by everyone around them that none of them possessed any viewing appeal, and that if they were viewers, they wouldn't bother clicking on them at all.

Song Wan & Zhou Qi: “…”

Even when they built upon standard audition procedures and added creative twists, they simply couldn't win the approval of the rest of the crew.

Meanwhile, before the varied processes suggested by other crew members could even be presented to the two of them, those staff members would already be infighting, tearing each other down, and pouring cold water on one another's ideas.

In Gao Xiang’s words, it couldn't possibly be more boring.

Yet they had no choice; before the auditions began, they had to finalize a general workflow, padding the basic framework with as many engaging gimmicks as possible to capture viewers who clicked out of sheer curiosity.

Originally, the most fundamental and hardest-to-alter part was the initial preliminary round—

They had figured that if the turnout was low, they would have to concoct all sorts of elaborate gimmicks during the preliminary screenings just to generate enough content.

But what about now? The "actors" sending their resumes to the production email and showing up in person numbered in the thousands. They could completely scrap all those complicated preliminary gimmicks they had initially brainstormed.

Realizing this as well, Zhou Qi’s eyes lit up: “We can just push those approved games straight to the later stages, which saves us even more trouble.”

Compared to the endless stream of actors vying for roles, racking his brains over reality show workflows annoyed him far more.

Decisively, Zhou Qi chose to toss the rigid workflow aside—

Weren't they just trying to select the most suitable actors? This was his old stomping ground; it was what he excelled at!

A large headcount meant a massive talent pool. Who knows, he might even unearth better actors than originally anticipated!

Song Wan was equally pleased.

Just then, someone knocked on the door of the lounge.

“Please come in—”

Song Wan turned her head and locked eyes with Gao Xiang’s excited expression: “Sister Gao, why are you looking so happy? Did something good happen?”

Gao Xiang shot Song Wan a sidelong glance: “Those two actresses have made up their minds.”

Barely had her voice trailed off when Song Wan and Zhou Qi exchanged glances, then simultaneously turned their gazes back to her.

Today, Gao Xiang was originally supposed to join them in screening actors whose appearances didn't fit the roles. However, because the crew's negotiations with the two actresses over relinquishing their parts had stalled with no resolution in sight, Gao Xiang had been forced to handle it personally.

Yet now?

Song Wan lowered her gaze to unlock her phone screen: 10:48 AM. From the time Gao Xiang met with the two actresses to the final outcome, it had taken less than three hours in total.

Looking somewhat surprised, she asked, “Sister Gao, aren't you a bit too efficient?”

Gao Xiang first let out a smug laugh, then scoffed, “Those two actresses were trying to play all sides. They both knew they couldn't securely hold onto those roles anymore, so they had actually agreed among themselves to give them up long ago.”

“Huh?” Song Wan looked at Zhou Qi and saw that he wore an equally blank expression.

Looking rather anxious, Zhou Qi asked, “But the staff member in charge of communicating with them said they were unwilling to let go of the roles, which was why they were making such exorbitant demands—”

Gao Xiang validated his words: “They certainly were making exorbitant demands.” However, she swiftly changed her tune: “Exorbitant demands are useless, though, seeing as our production crew ultimately holds the dominant position.”

Song Wan pondered this and wholeheartedly agreed with Gao Xiang's assessment.

There was simply no alternative. Since those two actresses had chosen to enter the entertainment industry, naturally they couldn't possibly harbor no desire for fame. And *Starlight* alongside *Acting Titans* presented the absolute best opportunities—of course they couldn't bear to let them go.

Under such circumstances, no matter how outrageous their demands might be, if the production team refused to agree, those demands were entirely meaningless—

At worst, the crew could simply choose to breach the contract directly.

When that happened, not only would those two actresses fail to secure the roles, but they might even forfeit any preferential treatment regarding auditions and screen time on the variety show.

The losses would completely outweigh any gains.

Therefore, Gao Xiang’s assertion that the crew held the dominant position was an indisputable fact.

Song Wan wasn't interested in the specifics of the negotiation tug-of-war; she simply asked Gao Xiang for the final outcome.

Gao Xiang chuckled, amused. “Those two actresses are veteran tricksters of the trade, but they still lack a bit of cunning and their acting skills are a bit lacking, too. It didn't take long for them to slip up in front of me.”

Everyone knew that the biggest taboo in negotiations was emotional agitation; the moment emotions flared, one easily handed over leverage to the opposing party, thereby losing the upper hand.

Gao Xiang was an expert in this field; even renowned negotiation elites in the industry were rarely a match for her.

Thus, Song Wan wasn't surprised by the outcome.

“Of course, since we were the ones breaching the contract and wronging them first, I didn't push them into a corner either,” Gao Xiang said, raising an eyebrow.

Since the crew was forcing actors with pre-signed contracts to step down, they were in the wrong to begin with, and naturally couldn't conscience giving zero compensation—

Real compensation that the two actresses actually desired, rather than just the default penalty fees stipulated in the contract.

Song Wan had no objections, and Zhou Qi raised none either.

Still…

“What were the conditions?” Song Wan asked.

She trusted Gao Xiang’s competence completely, believing that even the most favorable compensation terms she offered wouldn't compromise the production or the show itself. Yet, driven by sheer curiosity, she couldn't help asking.

“I promised them preferential treatment in terms of screen time.” A sharp glint flashed across Gao Xiang’s eyes.

Song Wan froze. Wasn't that the exact compensation they had intended to offer them in the first place?