Chapter Fifty-Six: Audition

Li Keke entered with a perfunctory greeting, “Hello, esteemed judges, I am Li Keke.” The director frowned at her attitude; if it were up to his temperament, he would have told her to leave without delay. Someone beside him tugged gently at his sleeve, shaking their head. They addressed Li Keke, “Draw your scene and begin.”

Li Keke casually picked a slip. The scene was a conversation between Huang Wanrou and her father before trouble befell the Huang family. Glancing at it, Li Keke snorted softly—child’s play, she thought; this role was hers for the taking.

“Father, why have you called me?” Li Keke’s opening line immediately darkened the director’s expression. Her scene partner continued, “Wanrou, I’m afraid I won’t be able to take care of you anymore. From now on, you must look after yourself.” Li Keke persisted, using an innocent, inexperienced tone: “Father, has something happened?” “Wanrou, remember this. No matter what happens, you must live well.” “I will, father.” Throughout, Li Keke maintained the air of a naive, sheltered young lady.

By the end, the director’s expression was as dark as the bottom of a pot. Someone nearby tried to smooth things over, “Not bad, it matches Huang Wanrou’s early state.” The director shot him a glare but said nothing.

Li Keke exited, pausing deliberately beside Bai Chenxi to cast her a mocking glance: No matter how hard you try, the role will still be mine. Bai Chenxi was puzzled by the look, turning to Wang Ling, “Is she provoking me? Where does that confidence come from?”

She didn’t mean to boast, but though her acting needed improvement, she was certainly better than Li Keke. Once Bai Chenxi learned Li Keke had deliberately maligned her, she made a thorough investigation of Li Keke—she knew exactly how skilled Li Keke was. She truly couldn’t fathom what blinded Li Keke, giving her such confidence.

“Bai Chenxi.” Hearing her name, Bai Chenxi hurried forward, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door. “Hello, teachers, I am—” The director impatiently cut her off, “Draw a script and perform.”

Though surprised by the director’s attitude, Bai Chenxi complied. The slip bore only one line: Huang Wanrou’s first arrival at the Xiajin Ballroom. Bai Chenxi recalled the scene: after her family’s ruin, Huang Wanrou finds herself in the ballroom, lost and alone.

Bai Chenxi signaled her readiness; when she opened her eyes, it was as if she had become Huang Wanrou herself. The array of unfamiliar men and women before her seemed foreign; she was afraid, but dared not show it.

At this, the once indifferent director’s eyes lit up. This was her last pride. Bai Chenxi continued forward, subtly shifting as if to avoid a drunken guest, all without breaking character. Thrust into such an unfamiliar setting, Huang Wanrou kept her gaze fixed ahead; not once did her back stoop, but her hands remained tensely clenched.

Bai Chenxi bowed slightly, “Teachers, I have finished my performance.”

The director’s expression shifted unpredictably; the others exchanged glances in silence. “Why did you act it this way?” The director stared at Bai Chenxi, as if demanding she reveal something.

Bai Chenxi took a deep breath. “When I read the original work, I felt Huang Wanrou was a very resilient woman. It was in her bones—not just shaped by hardship.” She glanced at the director, whose face revealed neither joy nor sorrow, and continued, “Though Huang Wanrou was raised in luxury, she was not an ordinary girl confined to the inner chambers. She was curious about the world and sought to understand it. She even said she wanted to achieve something, just like a man.”

So, though she found the environment strange—even frightening—she would never allow herself to show weakness.” The director, after hearing her words, retorted angrily, “What nonsense, just because you’ve read a few more books, you think your acting is right?”

He fixed Bai Chenxi with a deep gaze. “I’ll be blunt with you—you won’t get the part from me. Even if you’re chosen, I won’t use you. Be smart and find another role.” He looked around at the stunned crowd, then waved his hand impatiently. “Alright, you can leave.”

Seeing the situation, Bai Chenxi knew she had lost her chance. She left, disappointed.

“How did it go?” Wang Ling asked, concerned, as soon as Bai Chenxi emerged.

Bai Chenxi shook her head, troubled.

Wang Ling consoled her, “It’s alright, we have other opportunities.”

Meanwhile, a fierce argument erupted in the audition room.

The director, face dark, declared, “I disagree.”

Someone beside him tried to reason, “It’s the investor’s decision. Just turn a blind eye.”

“Does the investor get to do whatever they want? I can agree not to use her, but isn’t this going too far?”

The other responded with a sarcastic smile, “The investor really can do as they please. Unless you want to fund the production yourself.”

The director said nothing, his face grim.