The Audition

The casting studio was tucked away on the fifth floor of a nondescript office building. The peeling paint, broken elevator, and flickering fluorescent lights smelled of failure to most aspiring actors.

But when Lin Wanrou stepped through the doors, the shabby hallway became her red carpet.

Mei Ling trailed anxiously behind, arms laden with script copies. “Miss Lin… maybe we should reconsider. The role is so small. Even if you win it, the exposure will be minimal, and—”

Wanrou glanced at her with calm authority. “Mei Ling, tell me—when the phoenix first spreads its wings after rebirth, does it soar immediately?”

Mei Ling blinked. “…No. It waits. It gathers strength.”

Wanrou’s lips are curved. “Exactly. This is gathering strength.”

---

Inside the waiting room, half a dozen young actresses sat clutching scripts. They looked up when Wanrou entered—then smirked, whispered, and leaned together like crows.

“Is that… Lin Wanrou? I thought she quit the industry.”

“Didn’t she… you know, try to off herself after being dumped?”

“Why is she here? This role is just a pitiful servant girl. Ah—maybe it suits her.”

Laughter rippled.

Wanrou heard every word, but her gaze never wavered. She carried herself with such serenity that their mockery slid off her like water on jade.

One girl leaned closer, unable to resist. “Senior Lin, I’ll give you advice. If you want to cling to the industry, maybe start with commercials for detergent, hmm?”

The others snickered.

Wanrou simply looked at her. No words, just a single, lingering gaze. Calm, poised—yet heavy with a pressure none of them could explain.

The girl faltered, her laughter caught in her throat. For a moment, she swore she stood before a queen who could decide her life with a flick of a sleeve. She looked away quickly, cheeks burning.

Wanrou sat down, unbothered, and opened her script.

---

Inside the casting room, the director slumped in his chair. He was young, fresh out of film school, struggling to scrape funding for his drama.

“Next,” he called, rubbing his temples.

The door opened. Lin Wanrou entered.

A murmur spread among the panel of assistants. One whispered, “Isn’t that the has-been actress who—”

“Yeah. Lin Wanrou. What’s she doing here?”

“Desperate, probably.”

The director glanced up, frowning. He remembered the headlines: scandal, humiliation, failure. “Miss Lin. I wasn’t expecting you.”

Wanrou bowed slightly, her posture refined. “Thank you for granting me this chance.”

The director hesitated. He wanted to dismiss her quickly—the role was minor, and her reputation was toxic. Casting her would only invite ridicule. Still, he gestured. “Very well. Begin when ready.”

---

The script’s scene was simple: a servant girl, accused of betrayal, begs for her life before the mistress of the house. A throwaway role—tears, pleading, then dragged away.

Wanrou stood silently for a moment, eyes closed.

When she opened them again, the room shifted.

Her shoulders curled slightly, body trembling as if crushed by invisible chains. She staggered forward, her voice a whisper, hoarse with despair.

“Mistress, I swear it was not me… Please, I beg of you…”

Her hands clasped, shaking, her eyes brimming with tears that did not fall. Every line of her body screamed terror—yet her voice carried dignity, as though even in fear she would not lose her humanity.

The assistants leaned forward unconsciously.

Wanrou’s knees hit the floor with a thud that echoed in the silent room. She raised her face, pale and desperate, yet her gaze pierced through them like a dagger.

“If you must kill me… then do so. But know this: truth will not burn with my blood.”

The words were not in the script. But the weight of them filled the air, heavy as a decree.

For a heartbeat, no one breathed.

The director’s pen slipped from his fingers. The fluorescent light above flickered, and still no one moved.

Finally, Wanrou rose, her composure returning in a blink. She bowed politely. “Thank you.”

She turned and walked out, leaving the room frozen in her wake.

---

Outside, the other actresses snickered. “That took so long. Did they throw her out?”

“Probably. What director would hire her?”

Wanrou did not respond. She merely gathered her bag, her serenity unshaken.

Moments later, the director’s assistant rushed out, eyes wide. “Miss Lin! Please wait—the director would like to speak with you again.”

The waiting room went silent.