Chapter7

Around 10 a.m., the assistant director finally announced the start of auditions.

Some actresses began checking their appearance in mirrors, others took deep breaths to calm their nerves. Perhaps because she’d faced rejection so often, Cen Zhen, here to gain experience, felt unusually calm.

Soon, someone was called into the room.

The door closed, and no one knew what was happening inside. Occasionally, someone approached the door, trying to glean information, but it was futile.

Ten minutes later, the first actress emerged. A friend hurried over to ask, “How was it? Which scene did they have you do?”

She covered her mouth, whispering, “There’s a handsome guy sitting next to Director Xie. Don’t know if he’s an investor—never seen him before, but he’s young!”

“They had me do the scene where the heroine is betrayed by her mother. I was too busy staring at him.”

“No way, really?” someone laughed.

“Absolutely! His nose, eyes, mouth—everything’s my type. I’ve got to find out who he is.”

…

The tense atmosphere lightened with her gossip. The entertainment industry was full of good-looking men—what kind of handsome could earn such praise from an actress? He must have real looks.

This mysterious guy piqued everyone’s curiosity.

Except Cen Zhen’s.

While waiting for her turn, she was looking at photos Qiao Tingting had sent her.

The pictures from the small terrace at Hua Mansion had been expertly edited by Qiao Tingting, flawless and to Cen Zhen’s satisfaction.

She set one as her phone’s wallpaper. Though she overheard the actresses’ gossip, she paid it little mind.

After two or three more actresses went in, the assistant director appeared in the hallway. “Cen Zhen? Is Cen Zhen here?”

Cen Zhen stood from the corner. “Here.”

All eyes turned to her. Some scrutinized her, others whispered, “Who’s that? Never seen her.”

Gu Ying, standing nearby, immediately chimed in, “What, you haven’t seen her? She was the campus beauty of my year.”

Gu Ying said this with a smile, hoping to embarrass Cen Zhen, but Cen Zhen didn’t even glance at her. Ignoring the stares and Gu Ying’s jab, she walked calmly into the room.

Her figure disappeared, and the hallway fell silent for a few seconds.

Someone, snapping out of it, slowly nodded. “She *is* beautiful. No wonder she was the campus beauty.”

With that comment, all eyes shifted to Gu Ying, as if responding to her earlier mockery.

After all, it was clear who was naturally stunning and who was being snide.

---

Compared to the other actresses’ nerves, Cen Zhen was remarkably calm. She bowed politely, introducing herself. As she looked up, her gaze landed squarely on the man beside Xie Qingzong.

Her pupils constricted—

Was that… Meng Fanchuan?

Seeing his face clearly, Cen Zhen realized—could the “handsome guy” the actresses were gushing about be him?

He sat casually beside Xie Qingzong, raising an eyebrow slightly when their eyes met, as if greeting her.

Though she thought of him daily, eager to see him, now that he was here, recalling his teasing smirk from that night on the terrace, Cen Zhen felt uneasy and averted her gaze. Just then, the assistant director handed her a script. “Take a look. Five minutes to prepare.”

“Okay.”

Cen Zhen quickly refocused, studying the script.

Like the previous actress, she was assigned the scene where the heroine is betrayed by her mother.

Xie Qingzong’s film, adapted from reality, followed the heroine, Li Tao, who, at 16, moved with her remarried mother to her stepfather’s home. The stepfather was kind, buying her pretty clothes, tasty snacks, and her idol’s albums, quickly lowering the guard of Li Tao, who’d never known a father’s love.

She called him Dad, unaware he’d climb into her bed at night, touching her.

In terror, she sought her mother’s help, only for her mother to dismiss it as stress-induced hallucinations. From then on, the 16-year-old lived in fear for three years, eventually spiraling into extremism and madness.

The darkest, most twisted part of the story was the weak mother, for the sake of a stable life and her hard-won second marriage, silently condoning her husband’s actions.

She even became an accomplice, slipping sleeping pills into her daughter’s dinner.

Cen Zhen’s scene was Li Tao’s rage upon discovering her trusted mother’s betrayal.

She memorized the lines as quickly as she could, then stood aside, getting into character. Five minutes passed in a flash. The assistant director grabbed a staff member to read opposite her. “Begin.”

The room fell silent. Meng Fanchuan shifted his posture with interest, his gaze fixed on Cen Zhen.

The props were a table and two cups of water. Cen Zhen walked calmly to the table, looked up slightly, and delivered her lines slowly to the staff member opposite her.

Unlike the actresses before her, who played the scene with overt anger, disbelief, or shock at the betrayal, Cen Zhen didn’t.

She was smiling.

But her smile carried a heartbreaking despair. Holding back a sob, her piercing pain glimmered as unshed tears in her eyes, refusing to fall due to her stubborn resilience and the twisted hatred within.

Cen Zhen’s delivery was impeccable, her performance understated yet powerful, stirring everyone’s emotions without any shouting.

As she splashed the water onto the floor, Xie Qingzong’s eyes flickered. He glanced down at the actor profiles on the table.

—Cen Zhen, 21, Beicheng Film Academy graduate.

It was the first time that day he’d actively looked at an auditionee’s profile.

“Thank you, teachers.” Onstage, Cen Zhen finished, bowed, and prepared to leave.

Xie Qingzong, still looking at her profile, said nothing until she was nearly at the door. “Wait a moment.”

Cen Zhen paused, turning back.

As if he’d anticipated this, Meng Fanchuan lowered his gaze, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

In the spacious, quiet multimedia room, everyone awaited Xie Qingzong’s next words, expecting him to assign a different scene. But after a moment, he waved Cen Zhen over.

“Can you dance?”

Cen Zhen: “…”

---

Five minutes later, Cen Zhen emerged from the room.

A chatty actress grabbed her. “What scene did Xie make you do?”

Cen Zhen: “…The betrayal scene too.”

“Huh?” The group dispersed, disappointed. “You were in there so long, I thought it was something else.”

Cen Zhen didn’t know how to explain. She was still processing why Xie Qingzong had inexplicably asked her to dance.

Her mother was a dance teacher, and Cen Zhen had grown up immersed in dance, originally aiming for Beiwu. But halfway, she fell in love with acting and took a different path.

Sometimes, Cen Zhen wondered if, had she followed her mother’s plan to study dance, her life would be different now.

But there’s no medicine for regret. Even if there were, Cen Zhen wouldn’t take it.

The hallway crowd dispersed. Cen Zhen glanced back at the closed door, paused, then walked in a direction.

---

After Cen Zhen’s audition, Meng Fanchuan patiently watched a few more. He occasionally frowned or checked his watch, prompting Xie Qingzong to notice his lack of interest. Smiling, he asked, “So, Young Master Meng, whose performance stood out?”

Meng Fanchuan humbly shook his head. “Leave the professional stuff to professionals. I wouldn’t know.”

“That’s not true.” Xie Qingzong chuckled, tapping the stack of profiles. “I think you’ve got a keen eye.”

Meng Fanchuan didn’t know who he meant and didn’t care to. As he said, professionals handle professional matters. He’d only ensured everyone got a fair shot.

“You’re busy. I’ve got things to do, so I’ll head out.”

“Alright, take care.”

As Meng Fanchuan entered the elevator, his driver had already brought the car to the hotel entrance and opened the door. About to step in, he was stopped by a voice—

“Young Master Meng!”

Turning, he saw Cen Zhen.

She stood by the revolving door with a shoulder bag, as if she’d been waiting a while.

“Miss Cen?” Meng Fanchuan recalled she’d left half an hour ago. “Something up?”

Cen Zhen stepped forward, getting to the point. “Your suit—how do I return it?”

Realizing why she’d waited, Meng Fanchuan laughed. “No need. It’s just a suit.”

“I have to return it.” Cen Zhen didn’t want to accept something so expensive for no reason. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Or… I can take a cab home and bring it to you quickly.”

Her words came fast, her urgency to return it clear on her face. Meng Fanchuan paused, handed her Wen Hui’s card. “I’m busy. Contact this number to send it.”

Cen Zhen took the card. “Okay.”

He turned to leave but stopped after a few steps. Standing still for two seconds, he turned back, walked to Cen Zhen, and took the card back. “Forget it. I’ll go with you to get it.”

Cen Zhen was caught off guard. “What?”

“Inconvenient?”

“…No.”

“Then get in. I’ll give you a ride.”

“…”

Meng Fanchuan’s offer was sudden. Cen Zhen stood still, her mind racing.

From their few interactions, this rich young master hadn’t done anything off-putting. It was a rare chance to return the suit—otherwise, who knew when she’d get another opportunity?

Steeling herself, she decided to act fast. “Thanks for the trouble.”

For the audition, Cen Zhen wore no makeup, just a white T-shirt, jeans, and a high ponytail. As she sat in the car, a clean, youthful aura filled the space.

The door closed. She gave her address and sat quietly, hoping for an uneventful ride, ideally with Meng Fanchuan ignoring her like air.

But things didn’t go as planned—

“How do you cry so fast?” Meng Fanchuan was curious about her ability to tear up in seconds during the audition.

Cen Zhen blinked, realizing he meant her performance. “My major was acting.”

He nodded. “What have you acted in?”

“…Nothing yet.” The question embarrassed her. “I just graduated.”

In her freshman year, a production had scouted her, but her mentor advised against entering the industry too young.

With her face, Cen Zhen could’ve been famous at 18. But the entertainment world moves fast—relying on looks alone wouldn’t last. Her mentor saw her potential, even for international stages, and urged her to build her acting foundation first. Cen Zhen, understanding this, rejected all commercial offers during school, focusing on four years of solid training.

As expected, her first script post-graduation was a major production. But its high profile led her to Shen Zesheng, entangling her in a web of industry suppression.

Thinking of him soured her mood.

Recalling he’d once claimed to be friends with the Meng family’s second young master…

Cen Zhen pursed her lips, scooting closer to the window.

She sat far, cautious not to overstep, keeping her gaze restrained to avoid accidental eye contact and unwanted conversation.

Keeping distance from these rich heirs was her way of protecting herself.

The conversation ended, and neither spoke again. The soundproof windows blocked outside noise, amplifying the car’s silence.

The quiet sharpened Cen Zhen’s senses. She distinctly smelled Meng Fanchuan’s cologne, faint yet impossible to ignore.

She grew uneasy.

The scent, though subtle, spread a sharp, oppressive presence in the car, like a hunter locking onto prey, setting a beautiful trap for the unwary.

Cen Zhen took a quiet deep breath, staring out at the passing scenery, counting trees aimlessly to pass the time.

But his voice snapped her back. “Why didn’t you stay in Beicheng?”

She froze, turning to him. “How do you know I was in Beicheng?”

Meng Fanchuan’s eyes flickered, smoothly covering his slip. “Didn’t you just say you studied acting in Beicheng?”

Cen Zhen: “…”

Did she?

She couldn’t recall but figured it was something she’d typically say.

“I’m not used to Beicheng’s weather,” she said, head lowered, as if recalling. “I’m… really sensitive to cold. In Beicheng during school, my blankets stayed cold from night to morning.”

Meng Fanchuan suddenly laughed. “No AC in the dorm?”

His laugh pulled her back, startling her into realizing she was chatting with this young master. She quickly composed herself, looking out the window.

Thankfully, they were near her home. She cut the conversation short. “Please stop at the supermarket ahead.”

Driving for Meng Fanchuan was Wang Yuan’s driver, Chen Xiang’an, whose steady skills were vetted to prevent any reckless driving in Shanghai. Wang Yuan had warned him to keep the wheel tight, not letting the young master take over.

Chen Xiang’an pulled over smoothly and opened Cen Zhen’s door.

She nodded to Meng Fanchuan. “Please wait a few minutes, Young Master Meng.”

The sunlight was pleasant, lifting spirits. Meng Fanchuan, hand on his forehead, gestured for her to go.

Cen Zhen dashed home, grabbed the suit, and returned in under five minutes.

Seeing her slightly breathless, Meng Fanchuan smiled. “I’m not going anywhere. What’s the rush?”

Cen Zhen was rushed—lingering with this big shot could lead to trouble.

“Here you go.” She handed over the dust bag, pulling a box from her pocket. “The brooch is in here.”

Meng Fanchuan’s gaze landed on it—

A mismatched, pink jewelry box.

Her voice reached him again. “No matter what, I have to thank you, Young Master Meng.”

Thanks for his help that night, ensuring she wasn’t embarrassingly turned away.

And later, in the chilly night, when cars sped past indifferently, he stopped, offering her a bit of warmth.

Meng Fanchuan looked at the girly pink box, a faint smile tugging at his lips, so light and fleeting it felt distant, hard to read as genuine or not.

Thankfully, Cen Zhen didn’t need to decipher it. Returning the expensive items in person lifted a weight off her. She’d said her thanks, feeling relieved.

“I won’t keep you. Goodbye.”

Meng Fanchuan nodded. “Alright.”

Chen Xiang’an raised the window, and the Bentley glided away. Meng Fanchuan leaned back, toying with the pink box. Opening it, the antique gem brooch sat pristine, its faint shimmer reminiscent of the glistening tears in Cen Zhen’s eyes during her audition.

Those beautiful eyes, ethereal yet delicate, could captivate even a stranger.

Meng Fanchuan glanced up. In the rearview mirror, Cen Zhen stood with her phone, texting someone, a rare smile on her lips, looking happy.

As if by some unspoken connection, Meng Fanchuan opened his phone. Two seconds later, he received her thank-you text.

“Thank you for your help these past few days. I’ve seen him, so I won’t trouble you anymore.”

Polite from start to finish.

Meng Fanchuan couldn’t help but smile, wanting to reply but too lazy to keep up the act. Instead, he dialed her number.

After a few rings, her unsuspecting voice came through. “Hello?”

Looking at her now-blurry figure in the rearview mirror, Meng Fanchuan said lightly, “It’s me.”