Six months ago, Chasing the Spotlight was formed, and the four boys officially made their debut.
In today’s entertainment industry saturated with boy groups, Chasing the Spotlight didn’t make much of a splash. After the initial three months of the group’s honeymoon period, Chasing the Spotlight faded away. Apart from occasional gatherings for fan meetings, most of the time, the four members pursued their individual paths.
The company also prioritized resources on nurturing Li Chengxuan.
He portrayed likable supporting characters in several major productions, and with positive reviews after the dramas aired, Li Chengxuan earned the title of a rising actor with solid skills.
According to rumors, he would soon take on a leading role.
He could be considered to have a promising start.
As Xu Qiao walked towards the elevator, Li Chengxuan grabbed his arm.
Stopping in his tracks, Xu Qiao looked at him with a puzzled expression. His eyes, like the shimmering ripples on a summer lake, made Li Chengxuan forget the words he had prepared.
Letting go, Li Chengxuan greeted with a warm smile, “Long time no see. What brings you to the company today?”
Without waiting for Xu Qiao’s response, his gaze fell on the audition script Xu Qiao held in his hands.
“Big Sister Yang arranged an audition for you.”
Leaning in, he whispered in Xu Qiao’s ear, “Good luck with the audition.”
Xu Qiao turned to look at him, raising his eyebrows, appearing harmless and innocent.
Early the next day, when Xu Qiao arrived at SSE headquarters, Yang Hui was already waiting.
Leading Xu Qiao to the underground garage, Yang Hui unlocked the car, took the driver’s seat, and, while fastening her seatbelt, asked, “How are you feeling about the preparation?”
“It’s okay.” Xu Qiao sat in the passenger seat, securing his seatbelt.
Yang Hui nodded, stepped on the gas, and the car slowly moved outward.
Just as they left the garage, Xu Qiao spotted Li Chengxuan standing at the company’s entrance. It seemed he was waiting for someone, looking around. When Li Chengxuan saw Yang Hui’s car, he paused for a moment, then happily waved.
Yang Hui parked the car near him, rolled down the window, and asked, “Chengxuan, what are you doing here?”
“Big Sister, what a coincidence. Oh, Xu Qiao is here too.” Li Chengxuan warmly greeted both. “My car broke down. I was about to call Xiao Wang to pick me up. By the way, Big Sister, have you had breakfast? I just bought some snacks from the snack house on West Street. You love their sticky rice cakes, right? Here.”
He lifted the packaging bag he was holding.
Yang Hui tapped the steering wheel with her index finger and gestured towards him. “I’ll take some then.”
The two of them enjoyed a pleasant conversation, leaving Xu Qiao sidelined.
After a while, Yang Hui finally asked, “Where are you headed? I can give you a ride.”
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
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Li Chengxuan sat in the back seat. Xu Qiao glanced in the rearview mirror. His gaze lingered on Li Chengxuan’s half-smiling face.
His presence here didn’t seem coincidental at all.
Driving to the film and television city, Yang Hui parked the car and led the two towards the Hundred Ghosts drama set.
Director Hu Zhenghua was busy, so today’s audition was overseen by assistant director Zhang Zhen. The production assistant led the group to Zhang Zhen, who exchanged pleasantries with Yang Hui before turning his gaze to Xu Qiao beside her.
Aware of Xu Qiao’s reputation, Zhang Zhen just saw the audition as a favor for Yang Hui, never believing he’d actually pass.
In person, Xu Qiao was more impressive than in the photos. Accustomed to the attractive faces in the entertainment industry, Zhang Zhen couldn’t help but give Xu Qiao a high score for his appearance.
When his gaze fell on Li Chengxuan beside him, Li Chengxuan politely nodded. Zhang Zhen acknowledged with a nod, inwardly puzzled about why Yang Hui brought two people.
“The crew is busy today, so let’s not waste time. Let’s start the audition right away.” Zhang Zhen looked at Xu Qiao, “You’ve read the script, right? Although it’s just an audition, for better effect, go change into the costume first.”
Xu Qiao nodded, changed clothes with the stylist, and when he came out, he was surprised to see Xu Siyi, who had somehow also arrived.
Sitting next to Zhang Zhen, Xu Siyi was wearing an ancient attire, with flowing white robes and a green hairband securing his long hair. His well-defined brow bones and deep, elegant eyes emphasized his graceful chin line.
Just from the costumes and makeup, it was clear that the Hundred Ghosts drama crew spared no expense. Xu Siyi’s outfit, adorned with a crane spreading its wings on the sleeves and delicate cloud patterns on the collar, was exquisite. The fabric had a rich texture, indicating its high quality.
Xu Siyi had come over casually after finishing his scenes, and upon hearing that Xu Qiao was auditioning, he took a seat.
Li Chengxuan attempted to strike up a conversation, but Xu Siyi maintained a seniority attitude, responding with occasional “hm” sounds. Seeing a hint of impatience on Xu Siyi’s face, Li Chengxuan wisely remained silent.
Seeing Xu Qiao emerge, Xu Siyi shifted to a more relaxed sitting posture, squinting his eyes slightly.
Despite both being in ancient costumes, Xu Qiao’s current appearance felt entirely different from Jin’er.
Jin’er, in his vibrant red attire, exuded a flamboyant and unrestrained charm, like a flower in full bloom and on the verge of wilting.
The young Daoist wore a Daoist robe, a square headdress on his head, his handsome face radiating a touch of innocence and an air of cleanliness like a forest spring. Raised in the mountains since childhood, possessing untapped abilities and aspiring to do great deeds by punishing evil and promoting good, he embodied the image of a pure-hearted young man.
Crew members were somewhat amazed. While the script initially left the image of the young Daoist somewhat vague, seeing Xu Qiao now clarified the hazy vision. The young Daoist should look exactly like this.
Satisfied with Xu Qiao’s appearance, Zhang Zhen flipped through the script and said, “You’ll play the part where the young Daoist exposes the female lead’s feelings for the water ghost.”
In the end, “Water Ghost” was essentially a cliche story of “I love you, you think you love me, but in reality, you love him.”
The young Daoist, venturing down from the mountains, was drawn to the innocent and kind-hearted female lead. Their shared interests and natural connection led to mutual understanding and love, gradually deepening over time.
However, the shadow of the water ghost, who had grown up alongside the female lead, cast a looming presence between them.
The young Daoist slowly realized that for the female lead, the water ghost might be more than just a childhood companion. Yet, the female lead remained oblivious. Driven by his desire to rid the ghost in the name of ghost-catching and demon-slaying, a personal motive emerged, causing a massive conflict between the female lead and him at this crucial moment.
The scene Xu Qiao was auditioning for depicted the young Daoist questioning the female lead after she intercepted him intending to dispel the water ghost using Daoist methods.
As an auditioning actor, he wasn’t entitled to read the entire script. He could only receive a synopsis along with the relevant part for the audition.
The specific interpretation relied on the actor’s ability to deduce and refine the character based on the limited information, delivering a performance that matched the character’s essence.
The male actors who auditioned previously for this segment often fell short in emotional depth. Their histrionic lines and exaggerated body language, while technically fine, lacked a certain subtlety.
Zhang Zhen rubbed his chin, eager to see how Xu Qiao would approach this scene.
Xu Qiao bowed his head, contemplating the emotions. When he raised his head again, there was a change in his eyes. Taking a few quick steps forward, it seemed as if he heard someone calling him from behind. A hint of struggle appeared in his gaze, and he slowly halted, as if responding to someone calling him from behind.
Onlookers understood. It was the female lead who called out to him.
With eyes cast down, Xu Qiao’s facial expressions remained relatively unchanged, appearing calm.
Zhang Zhen’s initially lax posture stiffened, then he observed Xu Qiao with a more serious gaze.
Showing restraint in acting was a rare skill.
He continued watching.
Xu Qiao lifted his eyes, as if there were someone in front of him. He gazed at her, then quickly shifted his gaze away, tightening his grip on the peach wood sword and swinging it casually. He adopted a relaxed and indifferent demeanor as he said, “Why stop me? His presence poses a threat to the entire village.”
There wasn’t a live counterpart engaging in the scene, but the dialogue didn’t give the impression of breaking the immersion.
When the female lead accused him of harming the water ghost for personal gain, Xu Qiao let out a brief laugh. His lips curved, only to swiftly retract.
His eyes resembled ink dropped into clear water, dispersing suddenly and creating a swirl of ink.
Without providing an answer, everyone watching understood that the conflict between him and the female lead reached its climax at this moment, and irreconcilable contradictions were about to unfold.
The dramatic conflict within the play unfolded as a constant ebb and flow of various forces pushing and pulling at the characters. Their choices, whether to advance or retreat, love or hate, engaged in a relentless tug-of-war, drawing out a symphony of clash and tension.
The restrained pain and mockery in Xu Qiao’s eyes were so intense that they couldn’t be ignored.
Finally, he squeezed two words out of his throat, “Selfish motive?”
“I’m asking you, do I have a selfish motive, or do you?”
Hidden secrets gradually unraveled. The once playful young Daoist, now devoid of his previous innocence, pressed the female lead, forcing her to confront her indecisive heart.
“You want him to reincarnate, but do you realize that if someone, who dies by drowning, wants to reincarnate, they need others to drown at that spot as substitute?
“You claim he has never harmed anyone, but because of you, he’s entertained the idea of being reborn as a human, wanting to lure people into the water. Do you know why he entertained this idea?” Xu Qiao paced back and forth, the hand gripping the peach wood sword turning white at the knuckles due to the force.
Excellent tone and solid delivery. This lengthy dialogue was enunciated clearly, the voice steady, and emotional emphasis on point. Zhang Zhen silently praised Xu Qiao in his mind, acknowledging that he surpassed most peers.
“Because of you. Because you grew up, from that babbling, tottering little baby, you grew up into—”
From head to toe, scrutinizing the illusory girl standing in front of him, all emotions subdued, Xu Qiao spoke gently:
“The form you have now.”
Xu Siyi smiled, aware that Xu Qiao had practically secured this role. Without lingering, he returned to the set.
After a moment, Zhang Zhen clapped his hands together, and the sound of applause echoed. “Well done.”
In this performance, Xu Qiao’s sense of restraint was exceptional. His control over microexpressions was outstanding, rendering emotions neither hollow nor exaggerated.
Modern acting often suffered from cliches. Anger morphed into a caricature of bulging veins and booming voices, while anxiety devolved into a nervous fiddle with clothing. In reality, this formulaic approach served as a perfunctory shortcut.
This resulted in actors appearing as if they were the same person, regardless of the roles they play.
While the use of techniques wasn’t inherently wrong, audiences readily accepted such emotional portrayals. However, relying solely on established routines without thoughtful consideration led to unconvincing performances, making it difficult for the audience to connect.
Discussing how to draw the audience into the role and make them feel the character’s fate was impossible if one merely followed routines mindlessly.
Xu Qiao’s understanding of the young Daoist can be considered profound. The detailed design was sufficiently on point and aligned with the character’s positioning.
The restrained, natural performance was truly captivating.
Some actors might cry and laugh dramatically, portraying extreme emotions, yet leave the audience unmoved, feeling only awkwardness and stiffness. Others might not shed a tear, but a single gaze or subtle movement could instantly capture attention
Talent, accumulated experience, and dedicated effort were all crucial factors behind this phenomenon.
Many actors lacked the life experiences necessary to understand the diverse emotions of their characters. Insufficient talent, a lack of self-reflection, and an unwillingness to hone their fundamental skills made it difficult to truly discuss their acting abilities
Xu Qiao’s greatest advantage lay in the various experiences brought to him by the transmigrating into different book worlds. Centuries and millennia were engraved in his bones, something he couldn’t discard even if he wanted to.
The so-called acting was about using one’s current body to contain the soul of another person from a different time, becoming someone else.
In the eyes of those watching the audition on set, this tryout could be considered splendid.
However, Xu Qiao did not land the role.
The performer chosen for the young Daoist role was Li Chengxuan.
What the heck?! Really! Was the whole audition just manipulation by Li Chengxuan to hit Xu Qiao sore point, to ridicule, and humiliate him or did Li Chengxuan tag along to steal his role? If this was a trick pulled by their company for Li Chengxuan, then I’d love Xu Siyi to drop the drama like a hot potato or begin a silent feud with Li Chengxuan. What a horrible and disgusting man, Li Chengxuan. Guess the entertainment circle is best for backstabbing and green tea.
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Ty for the chapter!!! 💜
(That two-faced creep, how?? I’m annoyed for mc, lol!)
Here comes the villain being annoying right at the start of the novel.
Thank you for the chapter!
Ugh. I hate him already 😂
Xu Qiao needs to terminate his contract ASAP. Li Chengxuan is nasty, but really guys like him get away with this stuff because of managers like Yang Hui. I guess we’ll find out more in the coming chapters
Yup. I already want to tear that nasty green tea bitch to shred. His whole company along with him! I should’ve known all that money saving on a great production meant sketchy business for roles as well!
Sudden urge to flip a table 😠
Already hate that guy 😂
He he he he… not surprised with the outcome.
I knew the minute he made that BS excuse of his car breaking down that MC wouldn’t get the role
I just hope he leaves this shitty company
Such a two faced man
Thanks for the chapter
so funny how the entire chapter focused on how well suited xu qiao was for the role and his actor talents just for them to give it to the role of that one guy we all forgot about 😂 peak comedy! let’s rip this guy apart
Thanks for the chapter! What did he pull to get the role?