Across from her, Gu Xuelan was all elegance, her poise calculated, her confidence radiating like perfume. She caught Mianmian's eye and smiled, sweet and poisonous all at once.
The first round had ended.
But the war had only just begun.
The air in the smaller waiting hall was suffocating. Time seemed to crawl, each tick of the wall clock stretching into an eternity.
No one dared speak above a whisper, but the tension was loud enough to drown out thought.
When the doors finally opened, the staff member reappeared, her face a mask of formality. She held a slim folder in her hands. All eyes fixed on it as though it were the key to life or death.
"Candidates.." she said crisply. "The evaluators have made their decision. Twenty will proceed to the next round. If your number is called, remain. If not, you are dismissed immediately."
Gasps echoed, shoulders stiffened, and hands clenched.
The staff member began to read. "Number 1. Number 3. Number 6. Number 8. Number 9…"
