"Can you dance?"
No sooner had he sat down than Jim fired the question. "It's a musical, so they're looking for actors with relevant experience. Your resume didn't mention any dance skills, but Cesare insisted you audition regardless. He's seen the material and is very bullish on this project—he's convinced it's a frontrunner for next year's Oscars."
"I can dance." Chen Zhen had long given up trying to fathom where Cesare's uncanny casting instincts came from. She answered calmly, "I can do Latin, ballroom, waltz—anything needed for social occasions. Would you like to see for yourself?"
Jim looked at her as if he'd been choked. His expression was tinged with disbelief. "You can dance? But you didn't join any clubs in high school?"
Chen Zhen felt a wave of helplessness wash over her. Many of the things she knew weren't things Jenny should know—they were impossible to make up, and any attempt to verify them would expose the lie. So whether to include them on her resume was a dilemma. Put them in, and people like Jim would think she was bragging. Leave them out, and she'd never get a chance to showcase these skills.
Besides, lying about these things wouldn't accomplish much anyway. Jenny shrugged. "I just can. Learned it from watching TV. Got a problem with that?"
Jim remained skeptical. Jenny had no choice but to stand up and rummage through Lilian's CDs. At that moment, she truly missed the unreleased iPod. "Let me see... doesn't seem to have any Latin dance tracks here—"
"No need to show me right now," Jim quickly interrupted. "We already found you a dance instructor. We were planning one-on-one training, but if what you say is true, it seems unnecessary now."
He immediately drove Jenny to meet the dance teacher. Jenny reviewed the audition materials in his car.
As a frontrunner for Best Picture at the 2003 Oscars, Chicago was naturally a big-budget production featuring renowned directors and actors. Adapted from the iconic musical that had been running since the 1970s, it was a classic masterpiece. Chen Zhen was very familiar with this film; she was a fan of the director and had watched Rob Marshall's musical adaptation Nine numerous times. and naturally, she had revisited Chicago countless times.
The entire production crew was currently in the preparatory phase. The three leads—two women and one man—had been cast, and they were now seeking supporting actors. Casting for film and television productions typically follows this pattern: the more significant roles are secured earlier, while minor parts are filled closer to production. The audition Cesare arranged for Jenny was for a supporting role—based on screen time, likely the third or fourth female lead.
The plot of Chicago is straightforward, with a limited cast. It tells the story of Roxie Hart, a woman dreaming of stardom who, betrayed by her lover, shoots him in a fit of rage. After being imprisoned, she encounters her idol, the showgirl Velma Katt, who is currently basking in notoriety for murdering her adulterous husband and sister. Velma, reveling in the perks of fame, utterly disregards Roxie. The two women scheme against each other to escape punishment, driving the entire narrative. The film is richly evocative and thought-provoking, satirically depicting the roaring, glamorous 1920s Chicago. It won the 2003 Academy Award, which Jenny believes was well-deserved.
Of course, the roles of Roxie and Velma weren't within her reach. Films like this, centered on actresses and demanding powerful performances, inevitably cast Oscar-winning actresses with both acting prowess and star power. All Jenny could realistically hope for was a supporting role. Much of Chicago's plot unfolds in a women's prison, creating ample opportunities for supporting actresses. For instance, during Velma's monologue recounting her incarceration, there's a spectacular cell-block musical sequence where each prisoner gets one or two minutes of solo spotlight—a rare and valuable chance on the big screen. Higher up in the hierarchy is an Eastern European dancer (Jenny couldn't recall her name, and it wasn't listed in the audition materials). She too was imprisoned for murdering her husband, vehemently claiming innocence before being executed. As the only female prisoner to die in the story, she also delivers a compelling performance before her demise.
But she still underestimated Cesare's capabilities. After opening the materials, Jenny discovered she was competing for... Lucy Liu's role in the original film.
Over the past month or so, she hadn't just buried her head in studying. Jim, Dave, and Lillian were all people she talked to. She still had a lot to learn about the entertainment industry, and these individuals were all seasoned experts—Lillian herself came from a showbiz family; though her parents were doctors, many of her uncles and aunts were directors and producers. Sometimes, their offhand advice would give Jenny a profound sense of clarity. This included insights into the varying levels of difficulty in securing roles.
Take a film with a budget of tens of millions of dollars: the lead roles are absolutely untouchable. Unless the project is a rare, privately funded venture where investors specifically demand certain actors, casting decisions are strictly merit-based. No matter how powerful the connections, candidates can only be slipped into auditions—and even then, they might be rejected outright by the director or producer. In Hollywood, every film represents a serious business investment. Anyone who dares to gamble with investors' money is essentially signing their own death warrant.
Even significant supporting roles like the male or female second leads cannot be entirely secured through personal connections. They require both proven credentials and strong performance. Take Chicago as an example: the film actually featured three leads, all seasoned, renowned actors. No matter how capable Cesare was, he couldn't have secured such a role for Jenny right off the bat. Yet he did surprise Jenny immensely, as Lucy Liu's part was clearly the kind of coveted role every agent was eyeing to launch a new star.
Of course, Hollywood still operates with a degree of professionalism. In China's entertainment industry, as Chen Zhen understands it, coveted roles in big-budget films directed by renowned directors—those with standout screen time—are often bought by actors themselves. Yes, they pay for them, even forgoing their own fees. For someone like Chen Zhen, a penniless nobody, securing an audition is impossible without a company footing the bill.
The audition script for Chicago didn't specify the character's ethnicity or nationality. It merely outlined the life of Giddy, a prisoner who was the daughter of a Hawaiian fruit tycoon, deeply devoted to her boyfriend. Upon returning to her mansion, she unexpectedly discovers her lover cheating with another woman. After shooting all three dead, she instantly becomes a national sensation, completely overshadowing Roxie. Threatened by this, Roxie is even forced to fake a pregnancy.
Though appearing only briefly midway through the film—a mere few minutes, a fleeting presence—Gitty's scenes were undeniably striking. She had to be striking to convince audiences she could outshine Rochelle. It was a standout role, offering ample room for performance, highly captivating, yet not overly demanding.
So this role was a major resource battle. Whether established actresses or fresh faces, everyone fought fiercely for it. Jenny couldn't fathom how Cesare managed to get her—with zero credits—onto the audition list.
In the original version, Lucy Liu was riding high on her breakout role in Charlie's Angels. While her looks might not be considered breathtakingly beautiful in the East, they perfectly embodied the classic Asian beauty Westerners were captivated by. Add to that her fluent English and seamless integration into mainstream culture, so she ultimately landed the role, becoming the Hawaiian fruit magnate. But Jenny wouldn't assume Kitty had to be Asian. Liu Yifei's casting proved both her exceptional talent and her agent's powerful connections—she received significant resource allocation at the time. In Jenny's memory, Liu also had substantial screen time in Kill Bill, released around the same period.
Unlike the final film and the original musical, the audition script included a song-and-dance sequence for Kitty. It's likely the director initially intended some adaptation but later cut it for narrative coherence. Thus, the audition requirements also demanded a foundation in musical theater.
After reviewing the audition script, Jenny felt it posed no major challenges. With over a month before the audition, she could comfortably master the role. Her only lingering concern was that she was taking—or intending to take—Lucy Liu's part.
Of course, from the day she arrived with her golden ticket, this outcome was inevitable. Jenny had convinced herself it wasn't a big deal—certainly better than outright copying someone else's film. Stealing an entire movie meant appropriating someone else's creative vision, but snatching a role destined for success meant she couldn't simply replicate the original actress's performance. She'd have to make it her own.
If the original actress's performance had been truly exceptional, Jenny probably wouldn't have been able to snatch the role. After all, each actor's approach suits them best. Jenny couldn't simply mimic Julia Roberts and beat Julia Roberts. If she cheated at all, it was only through more precise casting choices. Ultimately, the competition remained fair. If one's moral standards are so high they can't accept even this advantage, they might as well leave Hollywood. Every role attracts competition—how else could one climb the entertainment industry ladder without vying for parts?
However, if Lucy Liu were just any white actress, she might not feel much about it. But this particular role belonged to an Asian actress—a rarity in Hollywood. As a white-skinned, yellow-hearted egg-person, Jenny genuinely felt guilty about pushing her out of the role. —Fortunately, this wasn't a major role for Lucy Liu; just a few minutes of cameo time. For her, already making waves in Hollywood, it was merely icing on the cake. But for Jenny, this was an opportunity she absolutely couldn't afford to miss.
"There was actually another supporting role with more screen time," Jim remarked casually after Jenny finished reading the script. "But Cesare felt it lacked exposure and creative space, so he opted to compete for this one instead. Besides, that part wouldn't have suited you—it called for an Eastern European woman, and your features are simply too non-Eastern European."
"It's still in pre-production. Did Cesare read the entire script?" Jenny was curious. After all, most agents probably only knew these two roles were open. The production team wouldn't be sharing details about the amount of screen time or creative freedom for each part.
"Cesare is Catherine's friend," Jim said with a hint of envy. "He was chatting with Catherine in Spain a few days ago and read the script during that visit. He spotted this role for you immediately and secured an audition right away."
"Spain?" Jenny was even more puzzled. "Is there some major entertainment event happening in Spain right now?"
"Nope." Jim shrugged. "But Leonardo's vacationing in Ibiza, and Cesare is with him. You know Leonardo's also a CAA client, and Cesare handles part of his business."
...Speechless, Jenny could only thank her luck for being signed by Cesare. This powerhouse agent was in a league of his own. No wonder he'd gone to Spain now—Ibiza must be buzzing with stars, and he was there networking.
"But didn't he say he doesn't share?" Jenny murmured softly.
Jim, ever sharp-eared, chuckled. "True, he won't let others share his possessions. But when it comes to sharing others' possessions, Cesare never says no. Ah, we're here."
Jim led Jenny to the dance studio, where she showcased her skills. She'd studied various fitness-focused dances to stay in shape, possessing both natural talent and passion. While not world-class, her refined technique easily qualified her for supporting roles in films. The dance instructor praised her effusively, while Jim could only retreat in stunned silence to call Cesare.
Observing his expression, Jenny finally found a sliver of confidence: Perhaps, just as Cesare was a monster in her eyes, she too was a monster in others' eyes?
She continued her dance classes, now at a more advanced level. With no new audition opportunities for over a month, Jenny dedicated her free time to preparing specifically for the role of Gitty. Before she knew it, the month had flown by. September 2001 arrived.
September brought many events destined to have little bearing on Jenny: 9/11—which pushed back the Chicago auditions to October—the start of the academic year at major universities—Washington's seasonal shedding—Lillian's rotating shift schedule—
and, of course, the timely return of CSI: Crime Scene Investigation on September 27th.