The key turned in the lock, making a dull clicking sound. Jessi tried to move as quietly as possible, slipping into the room like a cat.
Only a dim wall lamp was left on in the house. The nanny had already left, and her daughter Miki was fast asleep in the inner room. The entire space was so quiet that all that could be heard was the low hum of the refrigerator.
Jessi collapsed onto the old sofa, the tension and exhaustion of the day weighing down on her like a physical burden. The failed audition, the glaring lights of the TV station, and her hatred for Cathy, who had taken everything from her, all gnawed at her in the silence.
Money. Next month's rent, living expenses, Miki's various expenses... like a tight rope around her neck.
This couldn't go on.
She picked up her phone, hesitated for a moment, and finally dialed her mother's number. Without much small talk, she explained her predicament: her job required her to travel frequently, and she couldn't afford a babysitter, so she hoped her mother could come live with her and help take care of Miki.
Her mother was silent for a few seconds on the other end of the line, not asking for details, her voice betraying her concern and her immediate decision: "Okay, I understand.I'll pack tomorrow and come over the day after. I'll support you."
After hanging up, Jessi felt a slight sense of relief. At least the basic necessities were taken care of. Exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she dragged herself toward the bedroom, longing to fall into a deep sleep.
Just as her consciousness was about to fade, the screen of her phone on the bedside table suddenly lit up, emitting a faint buzz.
She struggled to pick up the phone and squinted at the screen. It was a text message. The message read: [Jessi, this is Ken. I used to work with the "Endless Fun" program. I have a job opportunity I'd like to recommend to you.]
Ken? A vague memory surfaced—a shy young production assistant from the TV station years ago.
She replied with a question.
The message popped up immediately, the tone respectful yet urgent: "Jessi, I hope I'm not disturbing you! I just received insider information. Do you remember *Heart Journey*? That travel reality show that was canceled years ago is set to make a major comeback with a new producer!"
*Heart Journey*? Jessi had a vague recollection of the show, which had once been wildly popular before being abruptly canceled due to a scandal.
Aken's message followed quickly: "The new production team has big ambitions. They don't want to rely solely on popular stars. They specifically want artists with buzz, a compelling backstory, and a striking contrast! I think you're the perfect fit! Though it's different from acting, the exposure will be off the charts! The filming schedule is short—just two or three weeks—and the pay is very competitive by current market standards. It could be exactly what you need right now!"
The words were blunt. The show needed "controversy," and she, Jessi—past her prime, divorced, scammed, raising a child—was a walking "controversy machine."
In the past, she might have felt offended. But now…
She stared at the numbers on the screen representing the payment, enough to give her some breathing room. Exposure—a word she had almost forgotten—represented the possibility of being seen.Even if it's controversial, it's better than being completely forgotten.
This isn't acting, but it might be a stepping stone.
In the darkness, the light from her phone screen illuminated her gradually clearing eyes. The despair of the day was burned away by this message.
Her fingers quickly tapped out a reply, almost without hesitation:
[Thank you, Ken. Please send me the production team's contact information and audition time. I want to give it a try.]