The makeshift family formed by Cesare and Lilian owned several cars. Though Jenny had received her salary and the check from CBS, her hectic schedule left her no time to buy her own vehicle. Cesare temporarily let her continue using his Audi A6, while he commuted to work in his Bugatti Veyron. Lilian went so far as to offer her an extra car for long-term use if Jenny remained financially strained.
Jenny politely declined. She adhered to the Chinese principle of helping in emergencies, not supporting perpetual dependency. Borrowing for a month or two was acceptable, but long-term use felt inappropriate. Though Lilian might not mind, Jenny needed to maintain boundaries—otherwise, she wouldn't be able to hold her head high around Cesare.
In both China and the U.S., agents like Cesare rarely met with their artists in person. Of course, if he wished, Jenny could visit his office daily—but typically, communication happened over the phone. Once an agent secured a job opportunity, they'd call the artist to inform them. After that, the nitty-gritty details of the work fell outside the agent's purview. In China, an assistant might accompany the artist to auditions or handle daily logistics, but that approach didn't quite work in Hollywood.
Hiring butlers for your mansion or hosting friends as companions is entirely your prerogative. However, the company won't arrange everything for you professionally. While someone might accompany you to major events, you're generally on your own for routine filming and work commitments. Want a driver? An assistant? Bodyguards? A dedicated manager handling everything exclusively for you? Fine—pay for it yourself. If you hire a personal manager, they'll typically take a 10% cut from your earnings as compensation for their services.
A seasoned senior agent like Cesare, under CAA's system, juggles multiple international superstars. His workload is unimaginable. If Jim hadn't occasionally contacted Jenny to explain that Cesare was filtering through countless audition offers stemming from her CSI appearance, she might have thought he'd forgotten her entirely. In any case, since the day Cesare returned and they last met over a week ago, she hadn't heard a single word from him. Even though she went to his house daily to walk the dog, she never crossed paths with him. Cesare rarely came home before midnight.
According to Jim, while the offers were plentiful, few met Cesare's standards. So for now, her only hope was the Chicago audition. That audition had already been postponed over a month due to 9/11. Originally scheduled for early October, Jenny received another notice the day before it was supposed to happen, pushing it back to mid-October.
Had Jenny passed, she'd be on set now undergoing dance and singing training. With the agency's courses wrapped up, she'd even considered taking on more dog-walking gigs. Labor costs were high in the U.S. For a large dog like Washington, the going rate was $25 for a half-hour walk or $50 for an hour— Walking Washington twice a day, morning and evening, would net her $100. A steady $3,000 a month, and since she wasn't affiliated with a company, she wouldn't have to pay taxes. —Of course, Cesare had paid her a few hundred extra, but once Jenny understood the going rate, she felt less guilty about the salary.
If she added two more dog-walking sessions daily, handling multiple dogs at once... Wow, she'd earn more than as a restaurant waitress! Plus, it would be a walk and exercise—killing two birds with one stone.
Her IMDb page was already up, though much of the info was sparse. The message board had accumulated hundreds of comments, with many speculating if this Jennifer was a European movie star making a cameo—her "classically elegant aura" had everyone imagining her as some high-caliber star. Sometimes reading those comments made Jenny want to laugh bitterly: her fans were imagining her as something way out of her league! Would they be utterly shocked to learn she's now pursuing a career as a professional dog walker?
Still, even though she feels a bit torn between two worlds right now, Jenny hasn't considered confronting Cesare about it. While CSI was a great opportunity to showcase her talent, expecting this single appearance to magically attract major opportunities would be wishful thinking. Public television dramas generally operate at a fixed level of quality. Her involvement might add some sparkle, but it wouldn't fundamentally transform the show. It would remain what it was, and that level of brilliance wouldn't attract major directors or producers. The offers she was getting now were mostly for minor roles in small productions, or more bluntly, for starring in B-grade or R-rated films with suggestive content. Those were the ones likely to cast her as the lead. After all, she's not only beautiful but also carries the sensual allure of a veteran star when performing. Being a newcomer with affordable rates, she naturally attracts small studios with specific needs—which is precisely what Cesare meant when he told her, "If this is the extent of your acting ability, you'll have to settle for being a type actor."
For someone aiming to conquer Hollywood, such opportunities were nothing but a waste of her time. If she wanted to trade sex appeal for money, there were plenty of ways to earn it. Shooting these films was the lowest form of exploitation. Even if Cesare offered her such roles, Jenny would have dismissed them with contempt. Of course, for now, she could only trust that Cesare hadn't contacted her because the opportunities weren't good enough, rather than calling him to ask questions.
Building trust was a long process, and she knew she had to be the one to show more sincerity first.
With classes over and auditions not yet starting, Jenny had free time. She dragged Jim along to help her buy a well-maintained Volkswagen Passat for over four thousand dollars—a 1998 model with low mileage. In the U.S., cars were affordable and gas prices weren't high. The entire automotive industry was far more developed than China's, though used cars were still a gamble like back home: you had to know how to hunt for deals or risk getting ripped off by dealers.
Fortunately, Jim knew his cars. They visited a few dealerships, picked out the right one smoothly, and completed the paperwork. Jenny wanted to treat Jim to dinner to thank him, but he waved it off. "Forget it. Until you land your first lead role, I'll be the one treating you."
He chuckled. "I thought you'd ask Dave for help."
Jenny shook her head. "Later. I hope you won't laugh at me for cutting ties after getting what I wanted."
"I'd only laugh if you were still close with him now," Jim shrugged unconcernedly. "This is actually better for him—though Jenny, I have to say, I admire you."
"What do you admire about me?" Jenny asked, signing the check for the dealer.
"Usually, young beauties have a mess of romantic entanglements," Jim remarked as they stepped outside. "Especially since you're still in hibernation mode. Even though Cesare forbids you from dating, I figured you'd keep stringing Dave along for some security."
"Wouldn't that make me look like a total bitch?" Jenny chuckled.
"In that regard, most Hollywood actresses are bitches," Jim said. "People are practically used to it. Even if word got out, most would just laugh at Dave for being a toad trying to eat swan meat. That's the privilege of beauty and fame. In Hollywood, beauty and fame are the hardest currency, while powerless middle-aged men are the weakest underclass, trampled at will."
Jenny made a face, refusing to comment. She changed the subject. "Right now, I'm focused on when my next audition is, not finding someone to be my security blanket."
"What about tomorrow's Chicago audition?" Jim asked with interest.
"I don't have high hopes for Chicago," Jenny frowned. "It's a Weinstein film, and I'm still a nobody."
"Just give it your best shot," Jim said meaningfully. "If you're good enough, Cesare will handle the rest."...
Compared to CSI, the Chicago audition was on a much higher level. As Jenny had expected, she ran into Lucy Liu at the audition venue, alongside several other familiar faces—likely second- or third-tier starlets. Though few remembered their names back in 2014, each now carried more recognition than Jenny. The biggest name, of course, was Lucy Liu, fresh off starring in Charlie's Angels. "Charlie's Angels" had a budget approaching $100 million and grossed over $200 million worldwide, with Lucy Liu as one of its leads.
Since most had some degree of industry recognition, many knew each other. The majority of actors greeted one another warmly—though they were now competitors, these were minor roles lasting mere minutes, hardly warranting open rivalry. After all, most had come auditioning largely due to the Weinstein name and the original musical's reputation. Though a big-budget production, director Rob Marshall had never helmed a feature film before—or even a TV series. Naturally, many harbored doubts about the final product's quality.
After observing the room, Jenny felt somewhat reassured. At first glance, she appeared to be the only one truly determined to land the role.
As a newcomer, she was naturally kept at arm's length by the clique, while Lucy Liu effortlessly became the social hub: not only did she star in the commercial franchise Charlie's Angels, but she'd also collaborated with the renowned director Quentin Tarantino. Among Asian faces in Hollywood at the moment, she was undoubtedly the most prominent. Even Jenny couldn't help but glance at her a few times out of curiosity, though she didn't approach to chat. As a nobody, she knew better than to overstep.
The audition order followed alphabetical surname listings, with no other frills. Jenny grabbed a cup of water and sat down, not striking up conversations with others either. She quietly revisited details from the finished film Chicago, though her mind wasn't fully engaged. She'd spent months preparing solely for this audition, having studied it thoroughly and already mapped out her approach.
"You're Jennifer Jefferson, right?" Shortly after the auditions began, someone actually approached her. "May I sit here?"
The girl who had been seated beside her had already gone in for her audition. Jenny looked up. "Of course! It's an honor to meet you. I absolutely loved your work in Charlie's Angels."
"Thank you." Lucy Liu appeared exceptionally petite in real life, her face barely larger than a palm, her frame so slender she looked like she could be knocked flying with a single punch. She shook Jenny's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you too. I'm a huge CSI fan, and your performance in that episode really impressed me."
"I believe you're not just being polite—at least you stuck around until the credits to find my name," Jenny remarked.
Lucy Liu smiled. "Wow, you look so different in person. I almost didn't recognize you. On screen, you're so bold and outgoing, but here I'd even say you're a bit unassuming—though you're beautiful."
Jenny fully agreed with her assessment. Whether as Chen Zhen or in her original body, Jenny had always been the type with a quiet, understated presence. — This description might sound abstract, but in real life, everyone understood it: some people were beautiful yet unremarkable, while others, though average-looking, radiated an undeniable charisma. That was what people called star power.
"Are you complimenting my acting skills?" Jenny winked at her.
Lucy laughed heartily. "Yes, I am complimenting your acting skills."
She lowered her voice. "In today's audition, you were the most dangerous opponent I felt."
Though she said this, her tone was casual. Lucy Liu clearly wasn't overly determined to land this role.
Jenny scanned the room. There weren't many established acting talents present, and her own performance had been somewhat of a cheat. She had to admit Lucy had a keen eye. "But I feel no confidence facing you. You're famous, you can act, and you're beautiful. As for me—"
She shrugged.
"No," Lucy Liu shook her head. "While everything you said is true, it's actually me who lacks confidence around you. If we both perform equally well, I believe you should get the role."
"Why? Because I'm cheaper?" Jenny asked.
Lucy Liu replied calmly and naturally, "Because you're white, and I'm Asian. It's really that simple."
Jenny was speechless—in fact, the only reason she'd even attempt this mission to conquer Hollywood was because she had the basic advantage of being a white beauty. If she'd been the original person who'd traveled through time, or reincarnated into an Asian body, Chen Zhen wouldn't have even tried. The entertainment industry is the most racially and gender-discriminatory sector in the entire United States. This isn't because its practitioners are narrow-minded, but rather the natural outcome of a market concentrating audience preferences and demands.
But regarding Chicago specifically, the final casting went to Lucy Liu. So Jenny remained unconvinced about her own audition. "Why don't we make a bet?" she suggested. "I'll wait for you outside after the audition. We'll wager on who lands the role."
"Ha!" Lucy laughed. "Sure thing. We can discuss the stakes over lunch."
Jenny's name was called at the audition room door. Without pausing to say more, she exchanged a nod and smile with Lucy. Ignoring the glances—some direct, some sidelong—from inside, she composed herself and stepped into the audition room.
As always, several people were inside. But what surprised Jenny was that one of the two seated behind the long table was none other than director Rob Marshall himself.
It seemed Marshall took his first film very seriously, personally auditioning even minor roles. Naturally, the other person sitting there could only be the producer or a representative from the production company. After all, only someone of that caliber could counterbalance the director's decisions and prevent the audition from becoming a one-man show.
Jenny processed this quickly in her mind, flashing a dazzling smile at both the director and the production representative. She'd practiced that smile for at least a week—it was absolutely radiant.
"Jenny, we've all seen your video resume. While your experience is limited, your beauty is undeniable," Marshall stated bluntly, gesturing for her to sit as he flipped through her materials. "Plus, your singing and dancing skills are crucial for this film."
Jenny had no idea she even had a video resume—this was probably Cesare's doing again. She kept smiling. "Thank you."
"But the main reason you made the final cut is that I love your Hollywood Golden Age vibe—arrogant, sexy, pure old-school glamour," Marshall continued. "But the role of Gitty needs more raw edge. She's mad, desperate—like a wildflower on the brink. She has this primal, animalistic allure. Now, I want you to show me some angry expressions."
Jenny hadn't expected Marshall to skip the script reading and audition altogether, jumping straight to the fundamentals test. She felt a flicker of panic, but thankfully, the months of preparation saved her. Even without any special favors, Jenny easily slipped into the role she'd rehearsed and studied countless times. As 'Gitty,' she turned to the camera and flashed several dismissive, half-smiles.
Her performance was restrained, as if she were facing a tedious reporter firing endless questions while she silently mocked their absurdity.
"Excellent. Now I want you to show several expressions of rage. Can you differentiate them? You can improvise your lines—just make them up as you go." Marshall pressed on immediately, leaving her no room to adjust.
Jenny sensed that pausing to adjust might cost her points. She didn't even have time to select a scene or activate her cheat code. Relying solely on repeated practice, she instinctively began struggling and writhing under the virtual guard's grip, yelling at the reporter, "I'll give you three words—go to hell!"
"Okay." Marshall's face remained expressionless. "Now, can you sing a few lines for me?"
Jenny had to snap out of her emotional state and sang "Nowadays" from Chicago for Marshall. She'd always loved this song and practiced it, so she felt she performed it quite well.
Then the interview ended. She hadn't even had a chance to dazzle anyone, let alone impress the director. As Jenny walked out, she felt she'd just endured a thoroughly perfunctory audition—a mere formality before they dismissed her.
Her surname shared a similar initial with Lucy's, so she'd become Lucy Liu afterward. Jenny calculated she'd spent only five minutes in the audition room—likely the shortest of all candidates—while Lucy Liu had been inside a full twenty minutes.
Lucy emerged with a radiant smile—clearly, hers had been a pleasant interview.
Though mentally prepared, Jenny felt terrible: this audition was surely a bust. She'd blown her shot at this golden opportunity. What stung most wasn't the failure itself, but the realization she'd been disqualified before even getting a chance to prove herself.