Such a character, for whom the screenwriter wrote the line “Moon like a knife, lone light self-illuminating, liver and lungs all ice and snow, heart already cast away” – it’s truly stunning. However, the script contains numerous detailed character descriptions and micro-expressions, making it genuinely challenging to perform well.
“Yes, the more outstanding the character, the harder it is to find a suitable actor,” said Director Xiao. “Actually, the first person to play this role was Fang Zheng. Director Deng appreciated his acting skills, but he was severely lacking in appearance. I was never quite satisfied.”
Just as the role was finalized, he had a car accident.
Luo Yingbai was slightly moved. He quickly searched for Fang Zheng’s photos and found that this person had acted in many good films. However, as Director Xiao said, his appearance was robust and honest, truly unsuitable for the character Yue Huan with “liver and lungs of ice and snow.”
He pondered for a moment and asked, “What about the other actors? Surely among the other three, there’s someone who would satisfy you?”
Director Xiao responded, “Well… if I had to choose one, I think the third candidate, Lei Xin, is not bad. But that kid is too timid, lacking a certain ruthlessness in his eyes. Look, among these four, he’s the only one without any incidents, yet he claimed there were ghosts in the crew and scared himself away.”
Luo Yingbai touched his chin and looked at the script without speaking. This silent, cool, and contemplative appearance once again stirred something in Director Xiao’s heart. That persistent thought resurfaced, and he suggested again, “Xiao Luo, I think you’re a real talent. It would be a waste not to enter the entertainment industry. We’re currently auditioning – why don’t you try it? You might just end up loving acting!”
Luo Yingbai was both amused and exasperated: “Director Xiao, you’re really persistent!”
Director Xiao said, “I’m not persistent about just anyone. I’ve met countless people over the years and won’t misjudge.”
Luo Yingbai replied with a smirk, “Of course, a minor disturbance like that is nothing to worry about.”
Director Xiao interjected, attempting to regain their composure, “Let’s just focus on the script, shall we? The scene we’re working on is crucial.”
Luo Yingbai nodded, but the tension in the room lingered. The incident had thrown them off their game, and they needed to get back on track.
“Right,” Qiu Zipeng said, forcing a smile. “We can’t let an explosion distract us from the work.”
The group settled into a discussion about the upcoming scenes, trying to shake off the frightening incident.
As the rehearsal progressed, they couldn’t help but glance nervously at the lamp, half-expecting it to explode again.
Luo Yingbai stood up, his shoe soles crunching the fragments beneath. He shook his head, “No, this isn’t the main body. It’s resentment born from thin air.”
As he said this, Luo Yingbai was also puzzled. To be able to randomly condense resentment and launch an attack, this must be an extremely powerful ghost. But the generation of resentment must necessarily have a trigger. What had he done to make someone hate him?
After thinking it over, the problem should be with Yue Huan.
Luo Yingbai said, “How about this, Director Xiao? I’d like to observe the audition, if that’s okay?”
Seeing Director Xiao’s gaze becoming ardent again, Luo Yingbai laughed helplessly and quickly added, “I won’t participate, just watching. I have a school activity next month and really don’t have time. I won’t compete with professional actors.”
He felt that if there was an issue with the character, something might happen to the newly selected actor during the audition. This way, he could see what was happening and also protect the other person’s safety.
At this point, the audition was almost over. Each candidate had been pre-invited by the crew after observation and evaluation. Director Xiao secretly added a seat for Luo Yingbai, letting him sit on the side before returning to the judging panel.
Director Deng signaled his assistant to call the next audition candidate: “Pan Ze.”
Pan Ze was facing Director Deng for the first time and was somewhat nervous, secretly clenching his fist as he entered the audition room. Director Deng was quite satisfied with his resume – a child actor with rich experience. Although there was a period without notable works, his recent TV series had received good reviews.
When Pan Ze was silent and motionless, his appearance seemed sharp and cold. While potentially making people uncomfortable, it was undeniably the essence of Yue Huan – a character cold to the point of being inhuman.
Director Deng said, “Okay, begin.”
They selected a plot excerpt from the audition script, a scene where Yue Huan successfully usurps the throne, and Gu Qionghua escapes from the palace and encounters danger, with Yue Huan heroically saving her but then deliberately acting cold.
The plot wasn’t difficult, but what was challenging was precisely portraying Yue Huan’s character through this simple scene. However, this was Pan Ze’s strength, and he had already almost figured it out.
Pan Ze had only a prop fan in his hand. He turned sideways, extended his arm, opened the fan, made a “blocking” gesture beside him, then calmly folded it and turned, saying, “Princess, long time no see.”
His face was icy, his words equally cold, his gaze flat and emotionless, like he was looking at a stone or a rotten piece of wood. Someone unfamiliar with the context would never guess this was a scene of reuniting with his deeply loved fiancée after a long separation.
Deng Zhen slightly nodded, focusing intently on Pan Ze’s performance. Then, under everyone’s watchful eyes, two streams of blood flowed down from his nostrils.
The most feared thing… sudden silence.
Pan Ze never expected things to go so wrong. These two nosebleeds came at the most inopportune moment. He awkwardly took the tissues handed to him, quickly wiping away the blood while repeatedly apologizing.
Directors Deng and Xiao exchanged glances but said little as it wasn’t a technical issue.
Director Deng remembered his previous performance was somewhat acceptable, so he said, “It’s fine. Stop the bleeding and continue. Pick up from where you left off.”
Pan Ze was also frustrated, inwardly cursing his bad luck. He rarely had nosebleeds before, but today they seemed to come at the most embarrassing moment.
However, this disappointment made his originally stern face even more cold, which could be considered a blessing in disguise.
Pan Ze took a deep breath, readjusted his emotions, and continued.
He seemed to hear something, his thin lips sharply curling upward, saying coldly, “No need to worry. I didn’t originally intend to save you. I just didn’t want the Gu family to die too easily.”
This line, Pan Ze found exceptionally difficult to deliver.
His line delivery was good, but as he was about to speak, he suddenly felt an itching sensation all over his body. The feeling was incredibly irritating, itching to the point of being unbearable.
Pan Ze was going crazy, but he deeply knew that after the previous incident, any small mistake could cost him this acting opportunity. So he gritted his teeth and endured, barely managing to finish the line, even moving himself to tears.
Unfortunately, the director was not moved.
Pan Ze’s lines had a slight tremor, sounding like he was about to cry, coupled with his downturned lips and inexplicably twitching eyebrows. He looked like a pitiful cuckold.
Pan Ze understood he had definitely made a mistake and tried to make up for it in the final scene.
Although Yue Huan always appeared cold and heartless, Gu Qionghua still had some feelings for him at this point. Yue Huan, while often calling her stupid, was actually quite pleased inside.
