Chapter 8: A Novice Among Novices

Shen Yue quietly tiptoed to the girl’s side, sat down without a sound, and coughed softly twice. With a deliberately curious expression, she asked, “Hello, are you here for the audition too?”

Jian Han raised her head and nodded politely. Shen Yue, with a smile in her eyes, asked again, “Which character do you like most in the script?”

Without hesitation, Jian Han replied, “Liu Fei.”

Liu Fei was the female lead in *The Winds of Those Years*, a beloved character with a poetic and picturesque name. It was obvious that the author had poured all their affection into this character—the name even came from a line in the *Book of Songs*: *When I left in the past, the willows swayed; now that I return, the snowflakes fall.*

Shen Yue found this girl refreshingly honest—she hadn’t claimed to prefer the second female lead, Xiang Weiwei, just because that was the role she was auditioning for. Intrigued, Shen Yue continued, “Which scene in the script is your favorite?”

After a moment of thought, Jian Han decisively answered, “The final scene where the male lead returns with roses in hand. Just imagining it makes me feel excited—it’s as breathtaking as the moment when the Great Sage, the Monkey King, descends on the clouds in *A Chinese Odyssey*.”

A kindred spirit! Shen Yue’s face flushed with excitement.

Guided by Shen Yue’s intentional questions, the two delved deeper into discussing the script, touching on topics like Xiang Weiwei’s pitiful yet hateful character and the dashing entrance of the male lead, Shen Jia.

The more Shen Yue talked, the more satisfied she became. This girl was incredibly thorough. She had practically memorized the entire script; otherwise, she wouldn’t have remembered such minor details like Shen Jia buttoning his uniform all the way up to the top—exactly the image of a celibate male lead she wanted to create.

It wasn’t until Jian Han showed signs of fatigue that Shen Yue reluctantly ended the conversation. She pointed to a box by the wall and kindly reminded, “There’s bottled water over there for the staff. If you’re thirsty, help yourself.”

Jian Han nodded indifferently.

This girl could really hold a conversation, but the discussion had also helped her better understand the character of Xiang Weiwei. It gave her a bit more confidence for the upcoming audition.

…

That day, the camera operator had some issues and couldn’t make it, and to make matters worse, the elevator was out of order. Wang Teng, the director of photography, had no choice but to haul the ten-kilogram camera up five flights of stairs himself.

By the time he finally reached the 18th floor, Wang Teng dropped the camera onto the floor, panting heavily. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, and just as he did, someone handed him a tissue. The voice accompanying it was so familiar that he doubted his memory for a second, wondering if he had failed to recognize an old friend. “Why are you sweating so much? Here, wipe it off.”

One tissue wasn’t enough to deal with the river of sweat, so the girl continued handing him tissues—five in total, by Wang Teng’s count.

The last thing she handed him was a bottle of water, already opened. Wang Teng gulped down half the bottle, and the girl took it back, scribbling “Cameraman’s water” on the label with a marker before laughing and saying, “I’ll put it back in the box so no one takes it by mistake.”

Wang Teng nodded as he watched the girl walk over to the box and place the bottle inside. After hefting the camera back onto his shoulder, he hesitated for a moment, then crouched down to retrieve the bottle labeled “Cameraman’s water.” As he held it in his hand, he thought to himself, *This girl is kind of interesting.*

The auditions began shortly after. Jian Han’s number was towards the back, and as she watched the girls who went before her either emerge dejected or with triumphant smiles, she realized something surprising—she was completely unaffected by the atmosphere. She awkwardly scratched her nose and wondered, *Could it be that I’m like Han Xiang, completely fearless after countless auditions?*

Just before Jian Han’s turn, Fang Hui, the director, arrived. After greeting her, he entered the audition room directly. Two more girls went in before it was finally Jian Han’s turn. As soon as she stepped into the room, seven or eight pairs of eyes turned towards her in unison.

It’s one thing to feel the gaze of one person, but being under the scrutiny of seven or eight people felt like being caught in the beams of multiple spotlights. Jian Han’s body froze, and her limbs refused to obey her.

Zheng Qingqiu, the director, recognized the girl he had casually invited to audition and nodded kindly. He even had the leisure to joke, “So, my leading lady has arrived?”

Two of the girls before her had performed quite well, so he wasn’t in a hurry.

Jian Han felt as if she were turning to stone, her paralysis creeping up from her legs to her face. She stiffly nodded as Zheng Qingqiu briefly explained the scene: she would walk along the stone path of a campus, and as she passed by, Shen Jia, who was leaning against a willow tree, would straighten up and confess his love. Her character would first be shocked, then shy, before finally fleeing in a fluster.

Since the male lead wasn’t present, the role would be played by the second male lead, who was also the female lead’s fiancé—more of a background character than a real contender. He was played by Chen Xun, a trainee at Rongguang Agency, currently ranked eighth in their roster. He had a handsome face and a refined temperament.

Having already done over ten such scenes, Chen Xun easily got into character. He extended one leg, crossed his arms, and gazed at Jian Han with a faint smile.

Jian Han kept trying to encourage herself—*Don’t be afraid, you can do this!*

But the weight of the gazes around her felt like needles pricking into her skin, making her uncomfortable all over. In professional terms, she was experiencing stage fright.

When she finally stepped forward, Fang Hui, watching from the side, thought to himself, *This is bad. Why is she walking with her arms and legs moving together like that?*

Jian Han felt more clumsy than ever. She stiffly walked up to Chen Xun, mumbled her lines incoherently, and left the stage the same way she came—awkwardly, with arms and legs moving in sync.

Zheng Qingqiu’s face had turned completely dark. Of all the girls who had auditioned so far, Jian Han’s performance was by far the worst. To describe it in one word: *rookie*.

Even calling her a rookie was too kind. She was downright clumsy!

Normally, he would politely tell unsuccessful candidates to wait for a call, but Jian Han’s performance was so poor that Zheng Qingqiu couldn’t help but wave his hand, ready to dismiss her outright.

Just as his hand went up, the director of photography suddenly spoke up, “Uh, Director Zheng, I think the girl was just a little nervous. Maybe we should give her another chance?”

Zheng Qingqiu stared at him, surprised. Was this really the same usually taciturn director of photography?

Wang Teng awkwardly looked away, grabbing the bottle of water labeled “Cameraman’s water” and taking a big gulp.

Since his longtime colleague had spoken up, Zheng Qingqiu reluctantly relented. “Alright, fine. But this is only because of the cameraman’s kindness. Don’t waste this chance, there won’t be another.”

Jian Han nodded hurriedly. Fang Hui approached her, handing her a bottle of water and whispering, “What happened?”

Jian Han sighed, “I don’t know. As soon as the director shouted ‘action’ and you all stared at me, I just… couldn’t move.”