As the afterglow of the setting sun filled the sky, she returned home accompanied by the fleeting glow. At the entrance, Qin Jiao had just changed his shoes when he saw Jiang Quqi sitting on the sofa in a daze with a serious expression. Hearing footsteps, she looked up abruptly and waved at him.
Qin Jiao was puzzled but walked over and stood beside her.
Jiang Quqi picked up the books from the coffee table and handed them to him, saying, “You can read these when you have time.”
Qin Jiao lowered his eyes and looked at the titles in confusion—*Civil Code*, *Constitution*, *Criminal Law*.
Three thick books with red covers were thrust into his hands like hot potatoes. Qin Jiao was silent for two seconds, then suddenly asked, “Sister, have you read these?”
“Huh?” Jiang Quqi’s voice trembled slightly, suddenly feeling a sense of awe towards the books.
“Never mind,” Qin Jiao accepted them calmly. “I will read them carefully. Thank you, sister.”
Jiang Quqi awkwardly waved her hand and dismissed him.
She felt a little guilty. She had bought the books, flipped through them casually, and then fallen asleep; they were still stuck on the first few pages. However, it was enough for her to realize that the laws here were basically the same as in reality—it was just that they didn’t seem to apply to people like the male lead.
Having dealt with Qin Jiao’s “education,” she lazily lay back on the sofa, took out the business card from her pocket, looked at it against the sunlight for a long time, and finally got up and walked to the balcony.
At the audition venue for *Shadow Remnants*—
The director rubbed his temples and dismissed the last girl who had auditioned.
The door was knocked twice and slowly pushed open. A face as gentle as spring water peeked inside for a moment before hiding away again. The director’s eyes lit up instantly.
Accompanied by a laugh like tinkling bells, the girl skipped in. With light makeup and a new Chinese-style dress in shades of green, she looked like a fairy who had descended to the mortal world. Every smile and movement was endearing.
The director frowned slightly, but then relaxed as if remembering something.
“Hello everyone, my name is Song Qinglan.” Her sweet smile was as bright as the sun, and her eyes were full of spirit, with a hint of playful mischief.
The director picked up a pen and tapped it twice on the table. “Act out the scene where Wen Rujun meets Fang Mu for the first time.”
“Okay.”
Fang Mu first met Wen Rujun in an alley. He was beaten until his head was bleeding, begging for mercy, when Wen Rujun appeared.
Her beautiful, lively eyes and slender figure quickly caught the attention of the thugs, who coveted her beauty and leered at her with filthy intent.
No one expected that the girl would suddenly pick up a brick from the side, smash it directly onto the leader’s head, and take down the gang in a few swift moves. She then dragged him and rushed out of the alley.
Later, he found out this was neither the first nor the last time she helped someone. She was the guardian of justice in that chaotic area, helping the weak and upholding righteousness. In those turbulent times, she lived like a heroine in the hearts of countless people.
That day, the weather was clear. When a beam of light fell on Wen Rujun’s smiling face, his heart skipped a beat.
“Are you okay?”
That one sentence was etched in Fang Mu’s memory forever.
This scene of “the heroine saving the hero” was crucial. However, in the interpretations of the previous candidates, Wen Rujun’s actions came across as coy and coquettish. They captured the liveliness and spirit she showed towards loved ones, but failed to realize that at this moment, Fang Mu was merely a stranger to her.
Song Qinglan’s strength lay in the natural liveliness she displayed upon entering. Yet, during the scene, she was still too stiff and reserved. Her fight scenes lacked crispness and power—though these were things that could be taught. What was truly unconvincing was her slender arms, which looked completely devoid of strength.
Song Qinglan was simply too thin.
When her performance ended, the director fell into deep thought. Beside him, Cui Bai hadn’t looked up the entire time, flipping idly through his script.
Resting his pen against his chin and thinking for a few seconds, the director waved his hand at her. “Go back and wait for notification.”
Song Qinglan’s departure marked the end of the auditions. The director looked at the bored Cui Bai, then at himself, feeling like he was about to go grey from anxiety. He angrily punched Cui Bai on the shoulder. “Look at you, so relaxed!”
Cui Bai yelped in pain and jumped up from his chair. “Wang Pangzi! What are you doing?!”
The director gave him a cold glance, sat down, and asked, “What did you think of that girl just now?”
“Which one?”
“The one who just left.”
“Oh, no good.”
The director was so angry his stomach hurt. He pointed at the audition list. “Out of everyone here, she fits the role the most!”
“She doesn’t fit at all! Look at her fists—could she even knock someone out? She lacks Wen Rujun’s imposing aura!”
“You… you are impossible!”
The director poked the script and scolded, “You want her to look the part, you want her to have the aura! You don’t want famous actresses, saying they can’t maintain the mystery! You don’t want those who look strong, saying Wen Rujun needs that contrast! And you don’t want those who are weak and powerless because their aura doesn’t match! Tell me, what exactly do you want?!”
Cui Bai waved his hand indifferently. “I’ve already found Wen Rujun.”
The director scoffed. “Oh, you mean the girl who kicked you flying on the street? She didn’t even want to come, you practically forced the card on her. Don’t make me laugh.”
Cui Bai was speechless. He stared at the director for a long time without saying a word, then slumped back into his chair in defeat, shutting himself up.
Seeing Cui Bai like this, the director felt a little guilty and was about to console him when a phone rang. Cui Bai suddenly jumped up from his chair and turned to mock him. “Who was laughing just now? Hahaha! Rujun is calling me!”
Damn it, if he ever felt any sympathy for Cui Bai again, he was a dog!
Cui Bai answered the phone cheerfully, wearing a flattering smile. “Rujun~”
“My surname is Jiang.”
“Oh right! Miss Jiang~”
“Is what you said still valid?”
“Of course!”
“Alright, alright.”
A moment later, Cui Bai hung up the phone with a grin, sat back down comfortably, and waved at the director. “Wang Pangzi, don’t just stand there, sit down. She’ll be here soon.”
The director snorted. “I’d like to see who you found.”
Cui Bai was confident about this. “As soon as you see her, you’ll know—she is the only one who can play Wen Rujun.”