15. The Bizarre Auditions

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Yu Zhi wasn’t very familiar with how offline auditions in film crews worked. However, she thought it was quite an experience—she actually encountered many bizarre and unusual scenes that defied normal expectations.

For instance—

Pei Zhao, unable to bear it any longer, covered her face and said, “Enough, no need. You simply don’t fit this role, and there’s no suitable part for you in the crew…”

At those words, the artist who had just been auditioning passionately froze. Then, the performer who had been reciting lines with a blank expression and a heavy tongue-tie suddenly knelt down before her and crawled forward two steps on their knees: “Please, director, give me another chance! I can learn!”

She looked up at the people seated behind the long table. Their faces, which should have been full of expressions, couldn’t even twitch the muscles around their eyes or cheeks. Only their eyes were moist and filled with hope.

Yet, put together like this, it looked even stranger!

Yu Zhi was stunned, her back hitting the chair with a thud.

She opened her mouth, as if to say, “Oh my god, what just happened?”

Lang Qingwen gently touched her arm and softly comforted her, “Stay calm, stay calm.”

Zhai Duo didn’t even look up. He just scribbled a cross on his paper and said, “Stop learning. You can’t even put an expression on your face. You’ve had too many cosmetic surgeries, it’s a side effect. It can’t be fixed.”

The artist pleaded, “I’ll be fine in half a month!”

Zhai Duo said, “Waiting is possible, but there’s no need to pick you.”

That was the truth. If it had to be her, or if she were the only one available, it wouldn’t matter. The problem was she didn’t have that advantage.

Many artists had come here, and even more would come in the future. Today they were only auditioning for the female lead, yet the number of candidates was enough to fill an entire day of interviews.

Pei Zhao sighed: “Everyone in this industry gets cosmetic surgery, but you’ve gone under the knife on your face, haven’t you? That really limits an actor’s future development. You’d better think twice next time.”

She was somewhat disappointed. The acting skills were already poor, and yet they cut off their own path. She really couldn’t understand how these people had been deceived.

Zhai Duo mercilessly dismissed the artist: “Next.”

The next to come in was a popular idol who had switched to acting after her stage career ended.

She had just rushed over from out of town, having just finished filming a variety show guest appearance, and hadn’t had a proper sleep for two days.

“Hello, teachers, I am…” she began, but suddenly her mind went blank.

When people are tired and exhausted, their attention wanes. She had been anxiously studying character descriptions and story outlines while waiting outside, trying to memorize her lines and figure out how to perform them.

All that effort drained what little energy she had left.

Once inside, faced with a dozen interviewers staring straight at her, she was so frightened that she started to hiccup.

“Hic…” She was mortified.

Yu Zhi said, “...Shall we take a break? You can wait over there for a while and come back when you feel better?”

The girl was very grateful and hurriedly apologized, “Sorry, hic... yes... I hic…”

Suddenly, she couldn’t stop.

Pei Zhao was helpless: “Go take a break. When you’re ready, find the one in the blue clothes and she’ll give you a number to come back in.”

Bo Qiao and Xu Huang shrank back, watching in awe.

They couldn’t speak up, so they sent WeChat messages on their phones.

[Chestnut]: Oh my god, isn’t this the little flower the youth league secretary next door’s been liking recently? She was in that February drama, and the secretary even asked me to vote for her.

[Hungry and Wanting to Eat]: The newcomer in the “Gulan Lily” award?

[Chestnut]: Yes, yes, the lily one. She even gave me a bag of snacks, so I managed her Weibo account for her.

[Hungry and Wanting to Eat]: Me too.

[Hungry and Wanting to Eat]: But she bought me a mint milk tea.

[Chestnut]: ???

Xu Huang angrily looked at Bo Qiao: Milk tea? Why didn’t I get milk tea?

Bo Qiao grinned: Hehe.

They had originally planned to work as staff and had helped set up the venue in the morning.

Before the audition started, they said they wanted to watch, so Yu Zhi had assigned them to the screenwriters’ group.

They just pulled over a chair and could sit and watch; if the screenwriters needed anything, they could lend a hand.

They recognized the faces of most people who had come today.

They were university students who didn’t study seriously in class and didn’t engage in anything continuous. They just scrolled through Weibo, Xiaohongshu, and Douyin, eating up gossip.

Bo Qiao had even chased idol competitions a couple of years ago.

They were the kind of fans favored by capital—endlessly cultivated and harvested, year after year.

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She had several times gotten carried away, transferring her living expenses to voting and fundraising.

Xu Huang scolded her often.

Yu Zhi patted her head: In my novels, people like you are always brainless cannon fodder.

The longest she chased lasted a year and a half. She bought cards and albums and then tried to sell them after quitting, only to find the prices had doubled.

Bo Qiao sold them at the original price plus shipping to break even, but no one bought.

Furious, she listed them at market price. They were snapped up instantly, and she made a nice profit.

Bo Qiao happily treated Xu Huang to a big meal. While waiting for the food, Xu Huang asked why.

Bo Qiao replied, “The price was too low, other fans thought they were fake self-prints.”

Xu Huang was shocked.

Then the four of them toasted to Bo Qiao’s profit from this twisted market.

Bo Qiao was a fickle fan with no true devotion. She liked someone one day and suddenly dropped them the next. If any scandal broke out, she switched idols immediately.

Her words: “My harem is endless.”

When obsessed, she bought endorsements; when not, she switched to a new idol. There were so many stars, she could always find someone she liked.

[Hungry and Wanting to Eat]: So many idols are turning to acting. I saw the list this morning and recognized lots of names.

[Chestnut]: Sorry, I don’t know many.

Xu Huang didn’t follow stars; her gossip came secondhand from Bo Qiao. She often forgot names and mixed up people and gossip.

She knew the artist who had been hiccupping nervously earlier was the youth league secretary’s favorite from the next class. The secretary had watched that drama too and had some impression of her.

Xu Huang: But I don’t remember her name, sorry.

She could only recognize faces, knowing she had seen them before.

[Hungry and Wanting to Eat]: Suddenly realized,

[Hungry and Wanting to Eat]: Now I’m kind of an insider in the circle.

[Hungry and Wanting to Eat]: Hehe.

Bo Qiao: How many scandals will there be in the future! And the juicy ones outsiders can’t get!

Ping Cong was studying seriously in the library, trying to avoid playing on her phone, so she flipped the screen down.

When she wanted to take a break and checked the time, she found the group chat had 99+ messages, bustling with activity.

Ping Cong: ???

What are those three troublemakers up to this time?

Yu Zhi had her phone on silent and didn’t speak in the group. As the fourth person alongside the director and sitting in the center, she was very busy.

Ping Cong: The two of them have come up with a drama stage.

I admire you two.

Wuwuwu, I want to join the frontline fun too!

·

Cai Yanni wasn’t new to offline auditions either. But she felt none had been as efficient as this one.

Contrary to the public’s impression of an elite team, many auditioning actors couldn’t even speak clearly. Some relied purely on courage to give it a shot.

Others were brought directly by their agents, indifferent to whether they fit or not, just hoping for a chance.

Pei Zhao said: “She’s pretty but not suitable for the female lead. She could play a vase-like aristocratic daughter. What’s her name? Wang Wan?”

Though they were auditioning for the lead, if a suitable role was found, they could tentatively cast it and negotiate later.

Yu Zhi’s mind worked fast: “Competing with the city’s most beautiful woman for the female lead? No. She has no acting skills, her eyes dart around, and her posture is timid. That can be improved later, but her face is too sharp. I need someone slightly fuller, who looks well-raised and from a wealthy family.”

A sharp-faced person couldn’t get chubbier, and her temperament didn’t fit the character’s image.

Moreover, though the aristocratic daughter in the story was brainless, she still needed some acting ability!

Her role was still important.

Pei Zhao: “Alright then.”

Next came another person.

Lang Qingwen frowned, speaking slowly but firmly: “No, this won’t do. This popular idol turned actor has already played two female leads. Her agent said this time she at least expects the female second lead. But her acting is really terrible.”

Yu Zhi nodded: “Much worse than the last one. Both are idols turned actors, but the difference is huge.”

Zhai Duo whispered softly: “Are you sure you don’t want to consider her? Her company’s PR is very strong, her fanbase has good purchasing power, and the boss has connections with the platform. Future sponsorships would be easier. Giving her a small role that doesn’t affect the story much could be a win-win.”

Platforms, whether traditional media or new media, primarily buy rights to make money. The biggest factor in attracting investment is a drama’s ability to generate sponsorship.

Often, scripts specify certain actors, screenwriters, or directors because those people bring built-in profit potential.

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Otherwise, star power wouldn’t be so important.

Popular idols with strong fan purchasing power impact TV dramas by saving marketing costs and quickly mobilizing fans for viral promotion.

But they can also cause disputes, as fan groups tend to be young.

However, the real fear isn’t quarrels, but quiet disappearance.

Where there’s heat, there’s success.

Yu Zhi said, “No, today we’re only judging acting skills and suitability, nothing else.”

Some dramas, lacking big-name stars and with small budgets and little promotion, aren’t favored by platforms but end up unexpectedly successful—small hits that make money without losses.

That’s because their quality is solid, with outstanding merits that carve out a niche in the current market.

Fresh themes, well-structured logic, room for secondary creation, and even supporting actors who perform well—if the foundation is strong and the direction true, the result is likely to be a good work.

Everyone understood this principle, but in execution, selfish motives from different factions always muddled things, producing a mess.

Yu Zhi’s original novel was not some aloof, niche subject. On the contrary, it was a well-liked, popular, feel-good story that had passed readers’ tests.

That was the advantage of an IP adaptation.

Unlike original scripts, it had already undergone preliminary audience validation.

Based on the original, screenwriters made professional revisions, removing unreasonable external interference during filming, securing the core advantage firmly in the hands of the creative team.

Ultimately, investment depends on the quality of the final product.

Pei Zhao hesitated for a moment, then sighed: “Alright.”

They weren’t Yu Zhi. Having struggled in this industry for years, they had seen its dark side and heard terrifying stories. They had learned to weigh things carefully.

Thus, they lacked a certain courage.

It wasn’t necessarily a step back.

Although, it wasn’t entirely good either.

·

Zhan Ying still arrived early.

Lang Qingwen passed on the news, contacting her a second time to briefly outline the current audition list.

She understood that if she didn’t try harder, she really wouldn’t be showing the director any respect.

Perhaps in the future, Lang Qingwen wouldn’t give her such chances anymore.

When even family sacrifices are riddled with motives, casual former colleagues and acquaintances who treat her kindly are already being extremely considerate.

And Lang Qingwen was not one of those old acquaintances looking for her body or money.

Holding a simple character description and a plot segment sent by staff, Zhan Ying had memorized them inside out during these three and a half hours.

She stretched her neck, which straightened her shoulders, and peeked out the door.

Another auditionee was leaving.

The crew had prepared a separate waiting area for candidates, with seats and tea. If someone was nervous and wanted to move, they could step outside onto the terrace.

The hotel was spacious, so the audition venue wasn’t crowded.

Zhan Ying was extremely nervous, having changed position and posture eight times in this short time.

She actually had a slight advantage over those who rushed in headlong—she had quickly skimmed through the original novel.

Unable to arrive immediately, and having spent many moments dazed at the filming site, she was anxious but helpless, so she made use of that time.

She skimmed it without too much detail, breaking down the story from an actor’s perspective to get a general understanding.

It helped, but not decisively.

“Has the female lead already been decided?”

“Oh my god, even Lai Wen got rejected? She’s the female lead of the S drama. Now there are only four or five actresses who can carry a drama.”

“I thought it was absurd that Lai Wen even came. With her status, scripts should be handed to her to choose.”

“What are you thinking? Her female lead roles came from her running to crews herself. Her company doesn’t care. The dramas that cast her lead were all unwanted projects that just happened to blow up later.”

“Her next one is a modern drama, right? Starting at the end of the year, just in time.”

“No wonder.”

Those with better connections gathered quietly to share information.

Zhan Ying sat alone, not joining any groups.

She desperately wanted to be the female lead of this book.

She wanted it very much.