The heavy door shut behind her with a dull thud, sealing away Lu Ziming's twisted face and the noisy whispers outside.
Inside, the audition room was blindingly bright. The air itself felt thick, humming with a tension that pressed down on her skin.
And she could feel it—that sharp, unignorable gaze that cut through the crowd and settled on her.
From the far end of the judges' table.
From him.
Li Sijue.
The weight of his presence nearly stole the breath from her lungs. A man like that didn't belong in a small, shabby web drama audition. His aura filled the space, commanding it, bending it, until the others seemed like insignificant shadows around him.
But Bai Chenxi forced the chaos in her heart to still. She tore her attention away from him and focused on the stage.
She bowed gracefully, her posture calm and poised.
"Good afternoon, teachers. I'm contestant number thirty-seven, Bai Chenxi. Auditioning for the role of Lin Weiwei."
The director, a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard, squinted at her. Recognition flickered across his features, along with a hint of doubt.
"Bai Chenxi? …Alright. Let's see you perform the scene in the library. Lin Weiwei tries to frame the heroine, only to be exposed by the male lead. Do the monologue that follows."
It was the most difficult scene in the entire script. The character's emotions spiraled rapidly—starting from pitiful denial, to frantic desperation, then collapsing into hysterical jealousy and rage.
A minefield of emotional transitions.
Chenxi inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, then reopened them.
And in that instant, she was no longer Bai Chenxi.
She was Lin Weiwei—the girl consumed by envy, clinging desperately to her mask of innocence while rot gnawed at her soul.
"…It wasn't me, I swear it wasn't me…" Her voice trembled, soft, pleading. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, wide and helpless, brimming with a vulnerability that tugged at the heart. Anyone watching would instinctively want to shield her.
But then came the shift.
As the imaginary "male lead" cornered her with damning words, the fragile innocence cracked, fell away.
Her eyes darkened, twisted with bitterness. Her lips curled into something raw, broken.
"Why? Why does she get everything, while I—no matter how hard I try—end up with nothing?!"
Her cry rang with despair and venom, trembling on the edge of collapse. It wasn't just a line from a script—it was a scream dredged up from her soul, an echo of her past life's injustice and agony bleeding into the role.
She didn't flail. She didn't exaggerate. With only the subtle flicker of her gaze and the razor edge of her tone, she carved out Lin Weiwei's tragedy—pitiful, despicable, yet heartbreakingly real.
When it ended, she drew a shaky breath, bowed once more, and said softly:
"My performance is complete."
The room fell utterly silent.
The director and producer exchanged glances, both startled by what they had just witnessed.
This wasn't the Bai Chenxi they'd heard about—the scandal-ridden, talentless has-been. This was a woman with fire in her bones, delivering a layered, magnetic performance that demanded attention.
Even Li Sijue, who had spent the entire time casually skimming through documents, had lifted his gaze. His eyes, fathomless and cold, fixed on her. They revealed nothing, and yet the weight of that scrutiny pressed down on her skin, sharp as a blade.
Finally, the director cleared his throat, his voice softer now. "You brought something very unique to this role. Go home and wait for the results."
"Thank you, Director. Thank you, teachers."
Chenxi bowed again. Not once did she let her eyes drift back to Li Sijue. Not once did she betray the storm in her chest.
She turned and walked out, her posture perfect, every step measured.
Outside, Lu Ziming and his gaudy companion were gone. No doubt, they had slunk away with their faces burning after the humiliation earlier.
Chenxi quickened her pace, exiting the building. Her heart, however, wasn't steady. She couldn't shake the uncertainty. Her performance had been strong, yes—but the presence of Li Sijue was an unpredictable variable, one that unsettled her more than she cared to admit.
At the street corner, her phone buzzed.
A message from Hong Jie. Just one short sentence:
"Audition results tomorrow. Also… why is Lishi's Xingyao Media asking about you?"
The screen dimmed, but Chenxi stood frozen, the words echoing in her mind.
Xingyao Media. The empire under Li Sijue's control.
And now—they were investigating her.