The three of them had no time to observe the others’ reactions and quickly closed their eyes to rest, trying to get into the right state of mind.
In Shang Lu’s view, the ten minutes passed quickly, but for the three girls, it felt incredibly long.
“Time’s up. Who wants to go first?”
The first person to perform would be the most rushed, so no one wanted to volunteer. After a moment of thought, Ji Xue stood up. “I’ll go first.”
Shang Lu nodded. “Alright, let’s start with you.”
Ji Xue walked to the center, took a deep breath, and began performing according to the scenario she had envisioned.
She opened her eyes, her gaze filled with anger.
“What gives you the right to do this? Just because your family is rich? Let me tell you, I won’t give in, and I definitely won’t drop out. If you have any tricks up your sleeve, bring them on—I’ll face them one by one!”
Ji Xue didn’t use many grand gestures, but by the time she uttered the last word, tears were already welling up in her eyes, lingering without falling.
After finishing her lines, she tilted her head slightly, letting a tear drop, then regained her composure.
“I’ll be waiting!”
These words were resolute and carried a hint of the girl’s stubbornness, touching everyone present.
Only Shang Lu watched her with a smile. As expected, she hadn’t let her down.
The other two exchanged glances, unwilling to perform the same way as Ji Xue. However, one of them acted like a petulant elementary school student, while the other seemed more like a worldly adult—neither grasped the essence of the character.
After watching them, Shang Lu nodded. “Alright, you can go home and wait for the notification.”
She picked up a pen and made two marks next to Ji Xue’s name, confirming her selection.
As for Tan Le and Sun Ruhui, they weren’t particularly invested in the casting decisions, since the final say rested with Shang Lu—she was practically a dictator.
Once the interviewees had left the room, Shang Lu organized the resumes and said to the others, “I’ve already decided on the female lead. As for the male lead, I need to go meet someone first.”
Tan Le was a bit curious. “A tyrant like you actually listens to others’ opinions?”
When he accompanied Shang Lu on her scouting trips, he had witnessed firsthand what dictatorship looked like—especially in casting, where Shang Lu almost always made decisions on her own, rarely heeding others’ input.
“No choice. After all, he’s our financial backer—we have to show some respect. You can all head home now. If this meeting goes well, we can start filming next month. Senior, I’ve read your script—the opening needs a bit more polishing to really grab attention. That’s it for now. I’m in a hurry. Lele, can you give me a ride? I don’t have a driver’s license, so I can’t drive.”
In her previous life, Shang Lu naturally knew how to drive, but the original owner didn’t have a license, and she hadn’t had time to get one, so she had to rely on others for rides.
Unexpectedly, Yu Jialin stepped forward. “Tan Le drives too recklessly. How about I take you instead?”
Shang Lu was a bit surprised but didn’t refuse. “Sure, thank you.”
As for Tan Le, who was standing nearby, he watched the two leave with a puzzled expression. “Since when did those two get so close?”
Sun Ruhui chuckled. “What’s wrong? Feeling a bit sour that your childhood friend got snatched away? Oh, this is a good plot—I can write it into the script.”
She quickly pulled out her notebook and jotted down this inspiration—a small habit she had as a screenwriter.
Tan Le was speechless. “Alright, stop writing. Let’s hurry up and go.”
Yu Jialin appeared gentle and delicate, but the car he drove was surprisingly wild. Shang Lu opened the passenger door and got in.
Yu Jialin was slightly taken aback but didn’t stop her.
“We’re going to this café. You can drop me off at the intersection, and I’ll take a taxi back when we’re done,” Shang Lu gave him the address.
But Yu Jialin insisted on waiting. “Let me take you to the door. If anything happens, I can help.”
Seeing him like this, Shang Lu wasn’t surprised.
After all, Yu Jialin had a gentle personality—otherwise, he wouldn’t have taken such good care of Yan Ranran all these years. Whenever Yan Ranran faced troubles, she always turned to him to confide in.
Yu Jialin looked conflicted, wanting to speak but hesitating for a long time.
“Actually, you don’t need to feel guilty. The issues between Yan Ranran and me won’t involve you, and you never bullied me before.”
Shang Lu understood that Yu Jialin’s kindness toward her stemmed from guilt.
Moreover, Yu Jialin truly hadn’t bullied the original host—at most, he had been a bystander.
Hearing her say this, Yu Jialin didn’t feel relieved. Instead, his heart grew heavier.
“I’m sorry. I was wrong before. At the very least, I should have stood up for you when others bullied you.”
Shang Lu recalled the mockery and cold remarks the original host had endured. Those people, under the guise of seeking justice for Yan Ranran, had ganged up to bully a girl in a new environment—how shameless.
One day, Shang Lu would help the original host settle every single score!
“If you really feel guilty, then do me a favor. Once it’s done, we’ll be even.”
Shang Lu suddenly remembered something she needed Yu Jialin for. She might as well bring it up while she had the chance.
Yu Jialin didn’t refuse but was a little worried he’d be asked to act as a spy—something that didn’t suit his personality at all.
Shang Lu’s next words surprised him. “Help me assemble a team. After all, I have no money or people right now, and it’s hard to even shoot a series. If you can find some people for me, that would be a huge help.”
Just this one request?
Yu Jialin suddenly felt like laughing—not at Shang Lu, but at himself. It seemed he had become the kind of person he despised the most.
“Alright, I’ll help you find people. The company has dedicated staff, and you can pick them yourself later.”
Shang Lu’s eyes lit up. “Good, you said it yourself. Don’t regret it when I poach all your company’s key employees.”
Yu Jialin couldn’t help but smile slightly. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”
It seemed like the first time he truly understood her—a real, vibrant Shang Lu. The two of them chatted back and forth, surprisingly enjoying the conversation—a scene Yu Jialin had never imagined before.
“The café is just ahead. I’ll head over now,” Shang Lu said, spotting the sign and preparing to get out of the car.
But Yu Jialin stopped her. “I don’t know who you’re meeting, but I’ll wait here. If anything happens, just call out—I’ll hear you.”
Shang Lu shook her head with a smile. “Alright, I get it. You’re not my brother—why worry so much?”
Yu Jialin watched her walk into the coffee shop and recalled her words. Suddenly, he felt that if he really had such a younger sister, it might not be so bad. Aside from being a bit of a headache, she didn’t seem to have any other flaws.
As soon as Shang Lu pushed the door open, she saw an unexpectedly surprising scene.