Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Deputy Director Qian’s shout of “beautiful” wasn’t actually praising An Jiujing’s acting. Her acting was very raw—clearly still in the realm of “pretend play,” a beginner’s untrained performance. At the emotional climax, she was even looking directly at the camera the whole time.

What was “beautiful” was An Jiujing’s emotional expression.

Despite such inexperienced acting, she was able to accurately convey Lin Luo’s complex emotional changes in that scene.

This wasn’t easy. Basic emotions like joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness are easy to perform. But Lin Luo’s suppressed excitement while inspecting Wang Can’s corpse was incredibly hard to express with raw acting skills—yet An Jiujing managed to do it.

She could amplify emotion. What she performed had a subtle kind of magnetism. Even though her acting was still clumsy, it didn’t pull the audience out of the moment. Instead, it made people unable to look away from her.

This was a promising seedling.

And the key thing—she really looked stunning. Her facial features and bone structure were already striking; give her a few more years and she could easily be breathtaking.

If she wasn’t buried by the system, she’d be a gem that sparkles on her own.

After the audition, An Jiujing didn’t tell the anxious Wang Shanshan that the deputy director had called her performance “beautiful.”

She couldn’t be sure. Apart from that one word, she couldn’t read any emotion on the four people's faces.

All she knew was that she had done her best.

There were still contestants No. 5 and No. 6 behind her. Even including the time she ran out to vomit, An Jiujing’s total audition time was about half an hour—nothing particularly out of the ordinary.

Which only made Wang Shanshan more anxious.

She couldn’t carry the pressure alone, so she started transferring her anxiety to An Jiujing.

“You really should’ve held it in,” she said. “Why did you have to vomit?”

“Did you go eat some junk while out with Chi Tuo yesterday? The veggie juice at home is made from organic produce bought from the supermarket, and I washed it multiple times when we got back. There’s no way it made you sick.” She went on, “I already told you not to eat random stuff. This is a critical period for you.”

“And you just had to get that cartilage piercing now—if it wasn’t possibly a plus for the character, you think I’d let you do it?”

“And that makeup—your face looked like a ghost!” An Jiujing kept ignoring her, and Wang Shanshan got more and more worked up. “Did you even take this audition seriously? Do you even know how An Huaimin is watching us every single day—”

“He’s not,” An Jiujing suddenly said.

Wang Shanshan froze. “What?”

“He’s not watching us every single day,” An Jiujing said. “He’s busy taking care of his unborn son. The only attention he gives us is figuring out how not to give us any money for the house.”

Wang Shanshan stared at her, stunned.

An Jiujing stared right back, and said word by word: “He’s not the one watching us every day. You are the one watching him.”

Maybe Lin Luo’s soul hadn’t fully left her body yet, but An Jiujing’s tone and expression didn’t feel like her own. After speaking, not only was Wang Shanshan stunned—even she was surprised by herself.

How had she accidentally lit every single fuse inside Wang Shanshan all at once?

Wang Shanshan stayed frozen for nearly a full minute, her breathing becoming rapid, and her face visibly flushing red.

An Jiujing, now fully sober, even thought about running away—but she was still wearing those ill-fitting high-heeled sandals.

“You…” Wang Shanshan took several deep breaths before she could even make a sound."Parent of Contestant No. 2, Chen Miao, and No. 4, An Jiujing, please come in," the assistant suddenly called out. "Everyone else can go home and wait for further notice."

That announcement saved An Jiujing and also snapped Wang Shanshan out of her daze.

All six children had finished auditioning. The assistant suddenly calling for two specific people—what that meant was obvious without needing to be said.

Chen Miao had come with both parents, along with an elderly woman—whether she was the grandmother or nanny wasn’t clear. When the assistant spoke, all three stood up at once. In comparison, An Jiujing’s side seemed a little empty. Wang Shanshan stood up, smoothed out the black business suit she had specifically prepared for the day, picked up her briefcase, and walked in without looking around.

The assistant glanced toward Chen Miao's side and added, "Only one family member per person, please."

An Jiujing watched her mother pass by Contestant No. 1’s side with her head held even higher.

She inexplicably began to feel short of breath again. She got up and went to the vending machine to buy herself a bottle of ice water. She had to finish it before Wang Shanshan came back—otherwise, just drinking cold water alone would be enough to earn a month of nagging.

The ice water cooled her down. Holding the plastic bottle, An Jiujing thought—did she actually pass the audition?

Unlike Chi Tuo, who had absolute confidence in her, her own confidence in this audition was something she had to build up—through practice, through Chi Tuo’s endless analysis, and by repeatedly hypnotizing herself: you can do it, you should be able to, maybe you’ll even pass.

She was used to running around with Wang Shanshan every year doing photo shoots. Online model demand was high nowadays—she never lacked work. It was hard to say if she really liked the job. But just like Chi Tuo had said, she never liked looking at the photos taken while working.

Deep down, she didn’t really like that kind of work. She only did it for one basic reason: to make money.

Acting was the same—it was to earn more money.

This mindset actually came from Wang Shanshan. Make money, get famous, make a name for yourself—that was the path she thought she had to take when she hadn’t yet thought things through.

Until one day, because of Chi Tuo’s line, “Wang Can was Lin Luo’s childhood friend,”—a simple piece of character background—An Jiujing had her first real taste of what character interpretation meant. She went online to look up how to write a character backstory. Using that single sheet of paper as a starting point, she built out Lin Luo entirely in her mind. She imagined what Lin Luo looked like, her habits, her fears.

In the end, standing on that stage, facing the “corpse” on the ground, she constructed a complete Lin Luo in her mind.

In that moment, what she really thought was—this might be the last time she gets to play Lin Luo. Her first and last chance to publicly present her Lin Luo.

She had always understood where Wang Shanshan’s anxiety came from. They had no connections, no background. Even in the world of print modeling, there were “featured” models and “fillers.” Others with worse conditions than her could land featured spots because they were someone’s niece or cousin—even distant relations counted. But for her, it was always cheap makeup in some obscure outfit, crammed into the corner of a magazine layout.

All these years, she had lived on the margins. So even when she said she was fine, deep down, she really believed she was just there to be a foil—same as always.

Especially given the attitude of the producer, Lin Yinyin, during the audition. It only reinforced the feeling that she was there to be background.

Until the assistant called out Chen Miao’s and her name.

The remaining four contestants left one by one, all looking unhappy. In the waiting room, only she and Chen Miao remained, along with Chen Miao’s father and that elderly woman.

She and Chen Miao exchanged a glance.

She suddenly realized—Chen Miao looked very much like the actress Qiao Wenzhu, who was playing adult Lin Luo. Especially from the nose down to the chin—the resemblance was uncanny.

In terms of appearance, Chen Miao was clearly a far better match for the role. So if both of them were being called back, did that mean that, in terms of acting suitability, she had the upper hand?

That thought gave An Jiujing a small thrill of excitement. She finished the rest of her bottled water in one go.

At the very least, her self-directed approach—something Wang Shanshan constantly criticized—wasn’t wrong.

At the very least, the acting she developed from that self-created Lin Luo, who had accompanied her in front of the mirror during her worst days, had been recognized.

That made her feel less alone.

She didn’t know what would happen once Wang Shanshan went into that room—but she knew that her task was done.

Maybe, just maybe, there was still a one-percent chance that, because of her performance, she would really be given the role of Lin Luo.An Jiujing finally dared to place a tiny bit of hope on this matter—not too much, just a little.

The directing team was actually very conflicted.

In Director Yang Zhengyi's films, casting had always been his decision. But this time was a little different—the female lead had two phases. For the adult phase, Yang had already pushed through opposition to cast the relatively unknown and older Qiao Wenzhu. So, for the teenage phase, the investors wanted to have a say.

Contestant No. 2, Chen Miao, had basically been selected to match Qiao Wenzhu’s appearance. She was a distant niece from Producer Lin Yinyin’s mother’s side, nineteen years old, currently a freshman at the Film Academy. She already had experience acting in two stage plays and one web drama, in supporting roles.

Her acting wasn’t outstanding, but it wasn’t bad either. Her audition of Scene 1—Lin Luo’s panic at the police station—was executed quite well. By all accounts, selecting Chen Miao should’ve been a done deal.

But then, halfway through, came the smudged-makeup An Jiujing.

Everyone in that room was a seasoned industry veteran. Even if they hadn’t seen ten thousand auditions, they’d definitely seen thousands. Anyone with eyes could see that Chen Miao's technique was better than An Jiujing’s. But in terms of aura and natural talent, An Jiujing was leagues ahead.

After An Jiujing’s audition, Lin Yinyin even pulled Yang Zhengyi aside and said, “Casting a murderer with a face like that is a waste. Let’s keep her contact info. I’ve got a historical drama coming up—it’s airing on a network. There’s a beauty role we haven’t cast yet. She’s perfect. Much better debut than playing a killer.”

He continued, “Director Yang, if you really like this little actress, let her get some experience first. After two more projects, she’ll be ready for your film. Wouldn’t that be a win-win?”

After all, it was just a teenage role with limited screen time. Chen Miao had also come from far away, and Lin Yinyin had to account to his own mother for that.

By that point, he was already being very respectful to Yang Zhengyi.

But Yang Zhengyi stayed silent.

The two girls who auditioned after weren't great in terms of acting or looks, and Yang didn’t even bother with pleasantries. Each one got ten minutes before being dismissed.

Then he just kept silent again.

This was Yang’s usual way of getting his way—just don’t talk, don’t let people leave, ignore all persuasion. Just drag it out.

Eventually, everyone got worn down. In the end, they agreed to bring in both actresses’ parents. Lin Yinyin had suggested it—after all, for teenage actors, it was important to consider the parents’ stance. Many young actors themselves were fine, but their parents could be a nightmare.

This wasn’t a standard procedure. Usually, once the audition was over, the assistant and legal team would meet with the family to sign contracts. But since Lin brought it up, it became a kind of compromise, a gesture to both sides. Yang finally nodded begrudgingly.

But this time, Lin Yinyin miscalculated.

Both actresses came with their mothers. Chen Miao’s mom immediately went over to greet Lin Yinyin, saying, “Grandma Miao is here today too. It’s been so long since the families met.”

The entire exchange was with Lin—she didn’t even glance at the directors. Connections brought by capital only recognized capital.

Meanwhile, Yang Zhengyi was in a great mood. He casually asked An Jiujing’s mom about their family situation. Wang Shanshan patted her chest and assured him: the whole family fully supported this.

And so—it was decided.

After the final decision was announced, An Jiujing and Wang Shanshan stayed silent for a long, long time.

That assistant surnamed Liu talked on and on for half an hour. Between the two of them, they probably only heard five minutes of it.

On the flight back to Wangcheng, An Jiujing looked out the plane window at the endless starlit sky.

She could act.

She, actually, could act.