Chapter 003: Signing the Contract

Wang Juan first retreated guiltily, but recalling Song Wan’s temperament, she regained her confidence. After all, Song Wan couldn’t do without her. As long as she offered a brief explanation, that fool would surely believe her. Wang Juan schemed in her heart. Yet Song Wan gave her no chance to explain, entering the room and slamming the door behind her.

“Bang—” Wang Juan was shut out.

She stood there, stunned, her face twisting with rage after a long moment. “Song Wan, you’ll beg me to come back one day!”

She waited, but Song Wan never opened the door. Left with nothing but anger, Wang Juan stomped off in a huff.

“Wretch!”

...

Inside, Song Wan caressed the gilded words “Audition Invitation,” a cold smile curling her lips. “I’d originally intended to honor the previous owner’s wish and refuse this invitation. But with this face, and the acting skills honed in my past life, all I need is a reliable agent—it’s only a matter of time before I become famous…”

Finding a trustworthy agent might be hard for others, but for someone like her, who’d struggled in the industry circle for over a decade, it was hardly a challenge.

But Wang Juan, why do you insist on courting disaster?

“Let’s avenge the original owner first,” Song Wan said lightly. She’d bested Tang Su many times, so Wang Juan, a minor character, hardly warranted her attention. “Since Wang Juan is so jealous of the original owner for getting the audition for Miao Yu, I must secure this role to repay Wang Juan’s ‘kindness’—and the roles she got by using the original owner…”

With that thought, Song Wan’s gaze turned as cold as ice.

Three days later, at the film city—

“Wang Juan, didn’t you say you could persuade your friend to take the role of Miao Yu? It’s been nearly two months—where is she? I even gave you a supporting part for Miao Yu, and this is how you play me? You’ve got guts, Wang Juan!” Zhou Qi slammed the script on the table, his trembling fat making him appear ridiculous.

Wang Juan could not muster a smile. “I…I…”

Zhou Qi jabbed a finger at her nose. “Can’t you make a call? I’m warning you—if you don’t bring her to the set today, you’re out! It’s just a minor role, I’ll reshoot if I have to!”

Desperate, Wang Juan blocked Zhou Qi’s way, tears threatening. “Director Zhou, please, give me another chance! If not… I could play Miao Yu myself!”

Zhou Qi stared at her like she was an idiot. “So that’s your real plan?”

Nearby, Zhao Meng, the lead actress resting in a lounge chair, raised her brow and scoffed, “You? Miao Yu? Look at yourself—what a joke.”

Even Zhao Meng didn’t fit Zhou Qi’s vision for Miao Yu, so this woman? She laughed coldly and lay back down.

Zhou Qi didn’t even bother to look at Wang Juan. He shoved her aside and retreated to a corner, raking his hair in frustration.

All this trouble, and Miao Yu still needed recasting. He was about to explode with anger.

The others kept quiet, not daring to provoke the director.

Just then, a clear female voice rang out at the entrance: “Director, is this audition invitation still valid?”

Everyone turned to look, gasping in shock.

The newcomer was about twenty, holding a black envelope as she leaned against the doorway. The gilded letters gleamed in the sunlight.

Zhou Qi spun around, his eyes lighting up with joy. “Miao Yu!”

Song Wan smiled faintly, brushing aside a lock of hair. Her snowy skin was adorned with a single seductive tear mole, disrupting the harmony of her features, yet adding an otherworldly allure. Her slender neck and graceful figure were cloaked by a long black t-shirt, the curves barely visible, with her left shoulder and luminous legs exposed in stark black-and-white contrast—a visual feast, intoxicating and deadly.

Born to enchant, a living vision.

She looked up, her tone gentle but hooked like a lure. “It seems my audition invitation… is still valid.”

Zhou Qi nearly lunged at Song Wan, circling her like an eager husky. “Valid, valid, of course it’s valid! You are the only person I see as Miao Yu—this invitation will always be valid!”

Song Wan didn’t take his words seriously, smiling as she asked, “Director, when is the audition?”

Zhou Qi waved a broad hand. “Audition? No need. Miao Yu is yours! Old Yang, bring the contract!”

He led Song Wan to sit by the camera as he spoke.

When he sent out the invitation, he’d thought as long as Song Wan wasn’t expressionless, the role was hers; he’d just maintained the director’s airs by offering only an audition.

Who would have thought she’d initially refuse?

Now that she finally agreed, he dared not hesitate—he had to get her signature right away!

Song Wan smiled. “Director, I’ll take the role, but I have one request.”

Zhou Qi’s eyes flashed, his smile fading a bit, but he replied with enthusiasm, “Whatever you need, if I can do it, I certainly will!”

Song Wan acted as if she hadn’t noticed. “Director Zhou should know my friend Wang Juan.”

She glanced at Wang Juan, whose face was twisted with jealousy. The look in Song Wan’s eyes made Wang Juan uneasy.

Zhou Qi smiled, thinking he’d guessed Song Wan’s request. “Ah, Wang Juan. Since she’s your friend, I’ll give her more scenes…”

“You’re mistaken, Director,” Song Wan replied calmly. “I know Wang Juan very well. She dislikes acting more than anything. She’s been unhappy about my accepting this role.”

Zhou Qi was stunned. Yang Fan, carrying the contract, looked puzzled. “Miss Song, are you sure? Wang Juan seems to love acting. If you can’t even tell your friend’s interests, you’re not very attentive.”

Song Wan didn’t answer, only looking at Zhou Qi.

At his age, Zhou Qi had seen it all. He nodded at once. “Don’t worry, Song Wan. If your friend dislikes acting, I’ll replace her immediately—I won’t let her tire herself.”

Song Wan smiled, taking the contract. “Thank you, Director.”

Zhou Qi immediately sent Yang Fan to notify Wang Juan. Yang Fan, bewildered, wanted to clarify, but Zhou Qi gave him a sharp glare. “Hurry up!”

Not daring to protest, Yang Fan ran to Wang Juan and conveyed Zhou Qi’s decision.

Soon, Wang Juan was wailing, clinging to Yang Fan, only to be dragged out of the set by other crew members and tossed outside.

Song Wan watched, her face unmoved.

Zhou Qi frowned, sensing a certain coldness and ruthlessness in Song Wan. But he soon realized she was just an actress in his crew—her true nature was no concern of his.

In fact, such a temperament might help her survive in the industry.

With this in mind, Zhou Qi feigned surprise, turned, grabbed a stack of papers from his bag, and handed them to Song Wan. “Yang Fan brought the wrong contract—sign this one.”

Song Wan’s eyes flickered. She set aside the original contract and opened Zhou Qi’s, scanning the few pages before looking up in astonishment. “Director Zhou, isn’t this contract a bit too generous?”

The original was standard for a rookie, but this…

Per episode pay: twenty thousand. Priority in promotional resources. Absolute autonomy in pre-broadcast publicity.

Even the original owner, unfamiliar with the entertainment world, knew these terms weren’t for newcomers.

Zhou Qi grinned like a Buddha. “I’ve waited too long for you to play Miao Yu. If you hadn’t agreed, I’d have cut most of the scenes—without you, the drama would lose its sparkle. So these terms are only right.”

Song Wan glanced at the original contract, not exposing his lie.

She searched, but found no hidden traps.

She looked at Zhou Qi with a meaningful gaze, but he remained calm, as if Yang Fan had truly brought the wrong contract.

A cunning old fox!

No matter Zhou Qi’s motives, Song Wan had no reason to reject such favorable terms. Even if Zhou Qi was calculating something, she was confident she wouldn’t be outwitted, so she signed her name without hesitation.

She looked up, smiling as she extended her hand. “Director Zhou, let’s work well together!”

“Gladly!”

After signing, Song Wan glanced toward the door, her eyes dark.

Zhou Qi didn’t notice, taking the contract with a broad smile. “Review the script and observe how others perform. We’ll start shooting your scenes this afternoon.”

“Alright,” Song Wan replied, her mind returning to the present.

Zhao Meng, mid-conversation, caught sight of this exchange and smiled. “Interesting.”

“What’s interesting?” Chen Yi laughed, sitting beside Zhao Meng. “Looks like I’m early today—or have you already shot a scene and are on break?”

Nearly ten thirty—early?

Zhao Meng sneered internally, but her outward smile was warm. “We haven’t started yet.” She pointed to Song Wan, her gaze clouded. “Director Zhou finally got his ideal Miao Yu, so he’s been busy with her all morning.”

Chen Yi was currently popular, his schedule packed with endorsements, events, and three ongoing dramas. He always kept the crew waiting, and his acting was mediocre, relying heavily on stand-ins and displaying diva behavior, often earning rebukes from Zhou Qi.

But fame was fame; no matter how Zhao Meng looked down on him, she still had to treat him well.

Chen Yi knew how much Zhou Qi cared about Miao Yu, and turned in surprise to see “Miao Yu” sitting beside him, catching only a tantalizing silhouette.

His eyes flashed as he turned back to Zhao Meng. “So, is she beautiful?”

Zhao Meng recalled, her face darkening, almost grinding the word out. “Beautiful!”

“Zhao Meng, Chen Yi, your scene is next—get ready!”

Chen Yi wanted to ask more, but Zhao Meng picked up her script and started memorizing lines. With a shrug, Chen Yi did the same.

Song Wan tucked away the contract. Seeing the crew still assembling the set, she picked up her script and began to read.