Chapter 9

Chapter Nine
When the door opened, a swath of black entered the sightlines of the five people present.

Each reacted differently. The least experienced director’s assistant rubbed his eyes, glanced down at the audition script—number 30 was indeed performing the scene of Xi Yin first stepping into the human world—and then looked at Mu He in the black dress. This…

He looked toward Director Xie.

Director Xie, the most composed, sat calmly with no expression, staring straight ahead as if noticing nothing unusual.

The producers exchanged an ambiguous glance, then leisurely redirected their attention to Mu He.

As for the female screenwriter, from the moment Mu He entered, her eyes never left her. Originally checking messages on her phone, her hands clenched the device, knuckles white, as if suppressing some emotion.

They watched Mu He enter the character as if no one else existed and begin to perform. No one thought to reprimand her for entering unannounced; their minds were almost entirely captivated by this stunningly beautiful girl.

Her aura was ethereal, visually striking, causing goosebumps and leaving a lasting impression.

Beauty is in the bones, not the skin.

True beauty is not how many cuts are made to the face; even the most refined exterior is superficial and cannot withstand time. True beauty has a soul.

They saw this rare beauty in Mu He.

The black dress did not diminish her aura; it accentuated her snowy skin, her expressions lively, and especially her gaze, exceptionally clear, perfectly portraying Xi Yin’s initial bewilderment and curiosity upon entering the human world.

Among those present, only the keen-eyed Director Xie noticed a trace of timidity in her eyes. His expression deepened subtly, though his face remained largely unchanged.

The director’s assistant noticed the clear difference between Mu He and the other auditioning actresses. Her walking posture was unlike a normal person’s, almost like dancing—actually quite beautiful. Perhaps this unique performance was meant to leave a stronger impression?

In fact, it wasn’t necessary. Simply having the courage to wear a black dress for this scene was impressive enough.

However, he might have miscalculated; Director Xie’s mind was open and clear, and he certainly wouldn’t be swayed by such a small trick.

Suddenly, the assistant’s mind jolted—why did her walking differ from normal people’s? Because Xi Yin wasn’t originally human! Xi Yin had just transformed from a dragon into human form and naturally wouldn’t walk like a human…

None of the first 29 actresses had noticed this detail!

Looking at Mu He again, his eyes reflected a complex mix of emotions.

“So,” Mu He spoke her only line, “this is the human world.”

Her expression radiated innocence untouched by the mundane world. Her tone was soft, like a gentle breeze brushing past the ear, lingering deep in the heart.

Before anyone could react, she had already finished performing. Transforming back from Xi Yin to Mu He, she bent slightly forward with a gentle smile: “Hello, Director, hello teachers. I am Mu He.”

With a “bang,” the female screenwriter excitedly stood up, knocking over her chair with the motion, pointing at Mu He: “No, you are Xi Yin!”

The producer smiled: “Your image fits the role, and your performance was good.”

He looked at the screenwriter teasingly: “See, Teacher Lin isn’t out of character yet.”

Another producer casually praised a few more words.

Next, they waited for Director Xie’s verdict.

Everyone turned to Director Xie. He sat with a serious face, silent, and the atmosphere became tense. The screenwriter softly, hopefully called out: “Director Xie…”

Though Mu He had given her all, saying she wasn’t nervous would be false. Clearly, the two producers were being polite, the screenwriter seemed to like her, but had limited decision-making power. The final decision rested with the director, and he seemed dissatisfied with her performance.

The assistant also pondered Director Xie’s thoughts. Mu He not only had outstanding appearance and aura, her performance was also commendable. Logically, Director Xie shouldn’t react this way. Could it… be the black dress’s fault?

The longer Director Xie remained silent, the more awkward the atmosphere became.

The assistant cleared his throat and said to Mu He: “You can go back and wait for news.”

Usually, this meant there would be no follow-up.

Accepting this calmly, Mu He bowed again with a sincere smile: “Alright, thank you for your hard work, teachers.”

Just as she turned, a deep, resonant voice came from behind: “No need to wait.”

Even with her prepared mindset, Mu He’s heart skipped a beat. Could Director Xie really give no face at all and kick her out on the spot?

No matter how turbulent her heart, her expression remained composed. She turned, meeting Director Xie’s gaze without subservience or arrogance.

This poise and demeanor were unmatched among her peers in the entertainment industry.

Director Xie’s appreciation for her deepened. Beyond her appearance and aura, what truly moved him was her attitude toward acting. Without genuine passion, one couldn’t fully immerse themselves, becoming another person. Her meticulous observation, whether in timid eyes or walking posture, proved this.

He felt certain that a dazzling new star would soon rise among the industry’s capable actresses.

Director Xie spoke again: “Xi Yin, I look forward to working with you.”

Mu He froze. What?

The screenwriter rushed over, sweeping away her earlier disappointment, cheerfully reminding her: “Director Xie means he has decided on you!”

The reason he called her Xi Yin was that he recognized Mu He as Xi Yin.

“Oh my god, really… from the moment you stepped in, I knew you were Xi Yin!”

The surprise was overwhelming. Mu He took several seconds to react, pointing at herself: “Me?”

The screenwriter nodded: “There’s no one else but you.”

Director Xie finally revealed a hint of a smile, a form of confirmation.

When the feeling is right, everything is right.

The screenwriter chatted with Mu He briefly, curiously asking: “All the other actresses chose white fairy dresses for this scene. Why did you go against the trend and pick a black dress?”

Mu He’s eyes flickered as she smiled: “Actually, I originally considered the white dress, but…”

The director’s assistant, impatient, asked: “Then why didn’t you choose it?”

She replied half-jokingly: “Because number 28 seemed to have a rough audition. She ran out crying, taking the white dress with her. My assistant couldn’t find her, so I had no other choice.”

The two producers, the screenwriter, and the assistant hadn’t anticipated this turn of events and all laughed, looking at Director Xie. Mu He understood—the girl had probably been scolded to tears by him.

Director Xie waved his hand and haughtily snorted: “She performed like that; am I not allowed to scold her?”

Fine, fine. You’re the boss, your word rules.

Though the audition process had its twists, the result was positive.

Mu He stepped out of the audition room. Tan Mian rushed over: “How was it?”

She already had a sense of the outcome. With fierce competition and that unexpected event, unless a miracle occurred—

“What?!”

Tan Mian doubted her own hearing: “Teacher Mu, say it again!”

Mu He repeated: “The production team said they will contact Sister Xi this afternoon to sign the contract.”

Contract?

Meaning, the role was secured?

“Wow!”

Tan Mian jumped with joy: “Teacher Mu, you are amazing!”

She couldn’t shake the feeling that following Teacher Mu was like uncovering endless surprises.

As they walked out, they saw several reporters interviewing Zhao Yike: “Yike, how confident are you about this audition?”

Zhao Yike’s answer was official, but her eyes and expression radiated confidence, almost saying openly, “I’ll get this role effortlessly.” The reporters asked other questions, and she answered, glancing at Mu He and Tan Mian from the corner of her eyes, as if challenging them across the air.

Noticing Zhao Yike looking their way, Tan Mian immediately turned into a little drama queen, drooping her face, looking dejected, tilting her head as if wiping tears—but secretly laughing, already overjoyed inside.

Miss Zhao, don’t blow your own horn too much in front of reporters; if it backfires, everyone will have a laugh.

Zhao Yike noted Tan Mian’s downcast reaction, more convinced that Mu He hadn’t performed poorly. The last trace of frustration in her chest vanished instantly. After the interview, she sent a WeChat message to her manager Luo Li: three “Victory” emojis.

Then she sent a message to the “Plastic Sisters” group: Feeling good today, dinner’s on me tonight.

In the afternoon, a marketing account posted on Weibo: Exclusive scoop! Zhao Yike has confirmed to play the second female lead, Xi Yin, in Xianxia Romance.

The news, full of drama, quickly gained traction and smoothly hit the trending list.

Coco’s fans collectively went wild!

As the excitement grew, the fanbase split into three factions:

Neutral: I’ll just watch silently.

Supportive: “Oh my, a Xie Director production! This is a strong-strong collaboration, can’t wait to see the delicate-yet-fierce Dragon Girl Xi Yin.”

“Is Coco shifting from traffic to acting skills? Support!”

“Good, following a major production is great for improving acting skills.”

Opposition couldn’t stand it: “What? Our Coco still needs to improve her acting? You better watch your words, I strongly suspect you’re a hidden hater in disguise, shut your foul mouth and get lost!”

“Our Coco only plays female lead. What’s this second female lead nonsense? Disrespectful! Complaint filed against this trash marketing!”

“No official announcement, no deal! Our little fairy will never be a supporting role!”

Coco’s fans started internal conflict. Meanwhile, Mu He had already successfully signed a contract with the production team and received the script.

At dusk, Mu He returned home, and as she lay on the floor watching the river view, Wanwan walked over. She crouched down, affectionately patting its head in a very gentle tone: “Wanwan, once I earn some money, I can buy you better cat food. Happy?”

Wanwan stuck out its pink tongue, licked her palm, and meowed obediently.

Mu He played with it for a while, then took out her phone to message Xi Heng, sharing the good news immediately. He replied quickly, as always brief and to the point:

“Congratulations.”

She smiled and exited the chat, thinking about what job he might be doing now. She guessed several occupations but none seemed to fit him.

Her phone buzzed again, this time a WeChat message.

Mu He opened the group named “Jianqiao University Operations Command”: Ji Ning: “@Yangyang, are you free? Can you check this bridge engineering planning proposal for me? It’s a bit urgent.”

“Okay.”

So Mu He spent almost the entire evening reviewing the proposal, gave Ji Ning some feedback, and after washing up, lay in bed past midnight, immediately falling asleep.

Once her breathing became steady, a tall figure silently entered, approaching the bed. Wanwan, in its cat bed, instinctively sensed danger, jumped onto the bed, positioning itself protectively in front of the sleeping person, arching its thin back and trying to look fierce to scare off the intruder.

One person, one cat, silently confronting each other in the dark.

Perhaps recognizing the man, knowing he meant no harm, or perhaps intimidated by his commanding gaze, Wanwan eventually gave in, meowing in frustration and returning to its cat bed.

Huo Siheng glanced at it indifferently, sat by the bed, turning his head. His deep eyes reflected the peacefully sleeping face, and a faint, natural fragrance seemed like the perfect lullaby. He folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes to rest.

A long-missed drowsiness crept in. As his consciousness began to fade, Huo Siheng felt warmth on his face. She had extended her hand from under the covers, palm pressed against his face, soft and warm.

The warmth of her palm gradually softened the sharp lines of his cold profile. He closed his eyes again, a subtle arc lifting the corners of his eyes, irresistibly alluring.

Their breaths intertwined, filling the empty room with warmth.

Meanwhile, in the online world, chaos erupted.

The trigger was a Weibo post from the official Xianxia Romance account.

After a fierce internal dispute, the opposing faction among Coco’s fans achieved absolute victory, strongly denouncing her playing the second female lead as the greatest insult to their goddess. Meanwhile, with more marketing accounts weighing in, the news that Zhao Yike would play Xi Yin became solidified.

Coco’s fans panicked, vocally expressing disbelief, yet their actions honestly led them to Zhao Yike’s Weibo to plead: Coco, you must see clearly, never lower yourself to play a second lead! You are the rightful female lead!

Just as Coco’s fans were in a self-congratulatory frenzy, the official Xianxia Romance account posted an announcement + clarification: “Welcome Dragon Girl Xi Yin @Mu He back.”

A single stone stirred a thousand waves.

Qianzhizhe (Thousand Paper Cranes) celebrated as if it were New Year, while Coco’s fans, stunned, were furious as if their ancestors’ graves had been blown up for eighteen generations.

What?!

I bought a watch last year! That shameless, obscure second-tier nobody just snatched our Coco’s role by leeching off publicity?!

Damn it, what’s tolerable, what’s intolerable!

So, Coco’s fans once again, with full force, pushed Mu He to the trending list.

The onlookers, stunned:

“Did Coco’s fans forget last time when their idol tried to sacrifice He and ended up being sacrificed themselves? Are they ready to send another head?”

“Hold your melon steady and watch out, Coco’s fans are recklessly sprinting down a path of self-destruction at record speed…”

“Hahaha, suddenly feeling a tiny bit sorry for Zhao Yike, what’s happening?”

“Have you noticed, Coco’s fans seem to thrive when it’s @Mu He?”

“Friend, here’s the truth!”