Chapter 51
She had to shrug it off and not let it affect her, especially since Wen Dongni’s impressive performance had been enough to send most of the other actresses auditioning for the role of Hong Yao into a panic. The stronger-willed actresses were only feeling mildly upset, but the weaker-willed ones had been badly affected and could not remember how to act.
“Good day to all of you, Mr. Director, ladies, gentlemen. My name is Yan Huan,” she said with a friendly smile. “I’m auditioning for the role of Hong Yao.”
Yan Huan had a pretty face, some would even say that she was extraordinarily beautiful, but a pretty face only went so far in the entertainment industry. It was not a guarantee for success. You had to be good-looking to be famous, it was true, but acting skills, connections, and luck were much more important in the grand scheme of things. Yan Huan was the perfect example of this; she had not been particularly lucky in the industry so far, which meant that to get the role of Hong Yao, she would have to give everyone present a performance that outshone Wen Dongni’s in every conceivable way. At that moment, she had no advantage over Wen Dongni to speak of; she was just a nobody with barely any acting credits, after all.
Everyone in the room visibly lost interest as soon as they heard that Yan Huan was also auditioning for the role of Hong Yao. Although they did not say it out loud, they had already decided that Wen Dongni would be getting the role. Even Jin Hailiang, the director, was now absent-mindedly tapping the table with his pen, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.
This was a heavy blow. Any outward display of boredom or lack of interest was enough to crush the self-confidence of an aspiring actor. Yan Huan lowered her lashes; her eyelids drooped over her clear eyes as she felt the remnants of her previous existence settle into her weary bones.
She pulled a chair over, sat down, and calmly adjusted her clothes. In an instant, Jin Hailiang’s pupils dilated; Yan Huan’s simple action had caught his full attention. It was the same for everyone else, but no one could explain why.
The woman on stage was very young, most likely in her twenties. She did not look directly at her audience; instead, her face was turned to the side as her slender fingers caressed an imaginary object on her lap. Was it a cat? Perhaps a White Persian? Her exquisite red lips, carefully painted, curved slightly as a wispy fog began to gather in the depths of her clear eyes. She appeared to be thinking about something. The smile on her lips grew wider, even as the fog continued to pool in her eyes.
The thickening fog had almost turned into tears when, with a sudden blink, the fog dissipated without a trace. Her eyes had reverted to pools of gentle, shallow water—a calm lake without a ripple in sight.
She lowered her head as her fingers continued to caress the imaginary cat in her lap. The cat jumped away with a meow, but she made no move to chase after it. Her lips curved into another smile. She turned slightly, and propped an elbow against the table beside her. That was all she did, but the fleeting look in her eyes, the slow linger of her gaze, and all her tiny gestures spoke eloquently of her hedonistic lifestyle. She was neither a proper lady nor a prostitute; she wavered constantly between sultriness and dignity.
It was true that Wen Dongni was a good actress. She had portrayed a seductive prostitute, a whore who could send every man’s pulse racing—but that was not Hong Yao.
Hong Yao was originally from a wealthy, distinguished family. She had been raised in a loving environment, and had been tutored by her own father. She was a lady of culture who had read her fair share of poetry and books. Unfortunately for her, someone sabotaged her family, and she was subsequently forced to work as a prostitute in the red-light district just to survive. Her body had been defiled; in fact, everything about her had been defiled. Everything but her soul: deep down, she was still the pure and noble girl her father had raised her to become.