She opened her slip of paper to check her number. She was 57— it was going to be a long wait.
Yi Ling kept her eyes on the number counter. She had been a bundle of nerves from the very beginning; by the time they were finally in the 50s, she felt ready to have a nervous breakdown.
55… 56…
“Huanhuan, it’s your turn.” Yi Ling could barely squeeze out the words. “Oh my god, it’s our turn! What do we do?!”
Yan Huan stood up. She opened her arms, gave Yi Ling a hug, and then patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”
Yan Huan walked into the audition room. Director Jin smiled when he saw her and gave her an encouraging nod. Yan Huan was reassured by the confident look on his face; she was afraid that the role she was after had already been given to Wen Dongni, but that did not seem to be the case.
Yan Huan stepped onto the stage. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Wen Dongni swaggered in.
Yan Huan’s hands balled into fists. Why was Wen Dongni here?
It had been some time since Yan Huan last saw her, but Wen Dongni seemed to have learned her lesson. She had gotten rid of her haughty, holier-than-thou attitude, and now seemed much more humble and modest. In other words, she had gotten smarter.
“Sorry, but can I go first?” Wen Dongni asked Yan Huan. But it wasn’t actually a question; Wen Dongni had already stepped in front of Yan Huan before she could reply.
Yan Huan was forced to take a step backwards. Director Jin’s expression darkened when he saw what happened, but he did not lose his temper as he wouldn’t do something that unprofessional. Instead, he looked at the man sitting next to him, as though considering something.
So that was it. Yan Huan knew what was going on now.
Wen Dongni had someone backing her.
Wen Dongni lifted her head confidently and looked straight at the man sitting beside Director Jin. She smiled sweetly at him, and the man smiled back. It was clear from the way they looked at each other that they were “involved.”
Wen Dongni looked away. She bowed politely to the judges, and said, “Good day, Mr. Director, ladies, gentlemen. I’m number 56. My name is Wen Dongni, and I would like to audition for the second female lead: Qing Yao.”
Yan Huan was not at all surprised to hear that Wen Dongni was auditioning for the second female lead. In Yan Huan’s previous life, the role had indeed gone to her. History was evidently repeating itself: Wen Dongni was, once again, trying for the second female lead. But her number…
Number 56…
Yan Huan marveled at the strange coincidence. Was it truly a coincidence, or was fate deliberately throwing the two of them together because they hated each other’s guts?
Wen Dongni had jumped the queue and gone before Yan Huan in their previous audition. Oddly enough, she was once again just one number before her in this audition.
Yan Huan wondered what the outcome would be this time. Would the role go to Yan Huan instead of Wen Dongni for the second time?
Yan Huan moved out of the way, but did not exit the room. This was a good opportunity to watch Wen Dongni’s performance.
Qing Yao was the villainous secondary female lead in Journey to Fairyland. Her screen time was second only to the female lead’s, and many of her scenes involved the male lead as well. She was a complex character who inspired both hatred and sympathy: she was the haughty, spoiled daughter of the head of Qingshan Sect, but she was also was supremely talented, hauntingly beautiful, and hopelessly in love with Yan Boxuan, the male lead. Unfortunately, Yan Boxuan was in love with Guan Yuexin, the female lead. Unable to win his heart, Qing Yao’s love transformed into an all-consuming hatred, leading her to the dark side. She waged war against the mortals, and ultimately died in the hands of the man she loved most.
Yan Huan was reminded of a saying: “A person who inspires pity will also inspire hatred.” Someone had mentioned the saying to her once, and she thought it described Qing Yao’s character perfectly.
Wen Dongni had chosen to perform one of Qing Yao’s many scenes with Yan Boxuan for her audition.
Cherry blossoms and falling leaves mingled in the air, it was always beautiful in Qingshan Sect, a famous cultivation spot. The head of the sect was a famous cultivator whose name was renowned throughout the mortal lands.
Qingshan Sect had therefore earned a reputation as a powerful holy spot for cultivators. Everyone said that the mountains were filled with immortal fairies, but they did not realize that those “fairies” were, at the most basic level, just humans who wanted to break free from the laws of nature.
Wen Dongni’s eyes suddenly lit up, as though she had just seen something of great interest to her. Her expression turned into one of deep, affectionate love as she gazed adoringly at the man before her.
“Junior Brother, you’re back.” Wen Dongni smiled pleasantly as she sauntered over to the man. She did not have any props, nor was she in costume, but everyone could tell that she was acting the part of an immortal fairy who had just descended from the mountains. She was beautiful, ethereal, and aloof.
“Hello, Senior Sister,” said the man acting opposite Wen Dongni. He dodged Wen Dongni’s hand, exactly as written in the script.
Wen Dongni’s fingers froze in place, arrested in midair. She smiled stiffly.
“Have you recovered, Junior Brother?”
“Thank you for your concern, Senior Sister. I am feeling well. If there is nothing else to discuss, I shall take my leave. Please excuse me.” With that, the man turned and left.
This was where the camera would zoom in on Qing Yao. Wen Dongni narrowed her eyes, her red lips pressed into a cold, hard line as she tugged at her clothes in frustration. It was an extremely realistic portrayal of a bratty, spoiled girl. Her expression, actions, and the way she carried herself were all on point.
Most of the judges sitting at the table seemed impressed with Wen Dongni’s performance. Director Jin, however, did not say anything.
“What do you think, Director Jin? She’s very good, isn’t she?” The man next to Director Jin sat up straight. “See, I told you I have a good eye. You can’t go wrong with my recommendations.”
Director Jin smiled, but did not reply. He had to admit that Wen Dongni’s performance was good, but it fell short of what he had in mind.
He looked towards Yan Huan. He had been betting on her from the very beginning, she was an actress with incredible range, and she was much better looking than Wen Dongni. He couldn’t give her the role of the female lead— that was beyond his control— but he could cast her as the secondary female lead, as long as she could prove that she deserved it.
Would she trip and fall, or would she pull off a spectacular upset as the underdog? He could hardly wait to see the outcome.
Wen Dongni let out a sigh of relief. She was pleased with her performance, and was confident that she had the role in the bag this time. She shot Yan Huan a cool, sidelong look. Up until recently, Yan Huan had been nothing more than a lowly background actor and stunt double, so Wen Dongni refused to believe that Yan Huan was capable of acting. She was sure that Yan Huan had only gotten the role of Hong Yao because she was, like Hong Yao, also a slut. Qing Yao, on the other hand, was a pure, otherworldly fairy. There was a huge difference between an immortal fairy and a prostitute.
Wen Dongni snickered inwardly at the thought of Yan Huan playing a fairy with her overrated, one-dimensional acting skills. She smiled at the man below the stage. An enigmatic look flashed across the man’s face and Wen Dongni’s smile grew wider when she saw it. She knew exactly what he was hinting at.
Wen Dongni walked off. It was now Yan Huan’s turn.
Yan Huan stepped forward. She was neither upset nor perturbed by the way Wen Dongni had essentially squeezed in and shooed her off the stage at the last possible second. In fact, she was glad for the free front row seat to Wen Dongni’s audition performance…
“Good day to you, Mr. Director,” she said politely. “I’m Yan Huan, number 57. I would like to audition for the role of Qing Yao.”
