When Fu Juncheng walked into the room, he happened to brush past a young actor who had just finished his audition.
The other person’s performance must have gone quite well; the smile on his face hadn’t even faded yet. Catching a glimpse of Fu Juncheng, a flash of mockery crossed the depths of his eyes.
He had long heard people in the company mention that the investors originally wanted to forcibly squeeze Fu Juncheng into the cast. Although Zhang Chenze had never completely relented, most people felt it was already a done deal.
It wasn’t until a few days ago that quite a few people were notified of auditions, which left everyone slightly surprised. They hadn’t expected Zhang Chenze to be this stubborn.
It seemed Fu Juncheng was probably not meant to have any ties to this role.
One had to know that Zhang Chenze was notoriously strict in the industry. Given Fu Juncheng’s acting skills, auditioning alongside others would simply be a public execution.
Besides, Fu Juncheng’s reputation was far from good.
The intimate photos of him and a male friend at a club previously could still be searched for online.
When the incident first broke back then, it had almost implicated Xu Yaozhou, and he had been ruthlessly targeted by Xu Yaozhou’s fans.
Using someone like that carried far too much risk.
How the audition would turn out went without saying.
Yet Fu Juncheng’s footsteps did not pause, nor did a trace of nervousness show on his face; instead, he appeared completely calm.
He certainly had some nerve.
The other person thought that if he hadn’t once been in the same production crew as Fu Juncheng, he really would have been fooled by his unruffled demeanor.
Zhang Chenze didn’t have that many thoughts about Fu Juncheng.
Ever since Fu Juncheng entered the audition venue, Zhang Chenze had not raised his head once.
His eyes remained fixed on the resume of an actor who had just left, completely unconcerned about the mindset with which Fu Juncheng had walked in.
Or rather, he held zero expectations for Fu Juncheng whatsoever.
His mood wasn’t great, but that was solely because of Wu Jin.
Wu Jin had contacted him multiple times previously and, leaning on his status as an investor, tried to force people into his crew.
People around him had also advised him that it was better to avoid trouble than to create it, and since it wasn’t an important role anyway, they could just cut it down later until barely any screen time was left.
As a result, not long after, word came back from Wu Jin’s side saying that after careful consideration, he had decided to respect Director Zhang’s opinion and only needed a single audition slot provided.
Zhang Chenze had found out that it was actually requested by the actor himself.
Not bad; the attitude was good.
Zhang Chenze had taken note of that.
It was just that, unfortunately, the person happened to be Fu Juncheng.
He had once caught a glimpse of Fu Juncheng among a crowd of extras at the Film and Television City; it was hard not to notice a young man’s natural facial advantages.
He had a standard big-screen face, where even the height of his bridge and the shape of his lips were just right. If he were willing to calm down and hone his acting skills, his future would be immeasurable.
Back then, he was still an unknown minor director with no notable works, so he had tried to extend an olive branch to Fu Juncheng, telling him that if he was interested, they could find some time to sit down and chat properly.
However, Fu Juncheng ignored him.
Not long after, some unseemly gossip broke out.
Society nowadays was far too impetuous; instead of focusing on properly improving themselves, young people only knew how to take messy shortcuts. Even a piece of raw jade would slowly degenerate into a worthless rock.
Later on, Xu Yaozhou happened to participate in a segment-drama movie he directed.
At the time, Xu Yaozhou was not yet eighteen years old, playing a left-behind child searching for his younger sister in an earthquake.
Zhang Chenze still remembered Xu Yaozhou wearing that school uniform jacket caked in filth, his handsome face covered in dirt, his messy black hair stained with gravel and debris.
He had knelt in the pouring rain, right there amidst the collapsed ruins, attempting to dig out the sharp rocks and rubble before him with his bare hands, completely hysterical.
That scene was filmed very quickly, passing in a single take.
The teenager cried until his voice was hoarse, and his palms oozed blood through that thick layer of grime, so it was clear he had given it his all.
As luck would have it, Fu Juncheng happened to trend on hot searches.
It was a photo of him sitting in an airport waiting room, wearing a white shirt and black trousers, with a clean face that looked exceptionally delicate.
Anyone in the industry could tell at a glance that the comments underneath were from bought internet trolls, all spamming topics like resemblances to Xu Yaozhou.
They actually looked a little bit alike.
And yet they didn’t.
Seeing Xu Yaozhou approach, Zhang Chenze put away his phone.
Xu Yaozhou was still covered in dirt all over, yet he didn’t care in the least, his brow furrowed tightly: “Director Zhang, I feel that take just now could have been even better. Can you let me try it again?”
Xu Yaozhou had always gone all-out when acting.
Including his understanding of different characters and the tension in his performance, he didn’t look at all like a child who grew up in wealth.
Instead, he looked like someone who had struggled through the mud for years, whose soul had waded through fire and sword.
Until he stepped off the set:
He was that modest and refined young master once again.
Inside and outside of acting, he was like two entirely different people.
Pulling his thoughts back, Zhang Chenze drew a small cross next to Fu Juncheng’s name and looked up.
Fu Juncheng stood right in the center of the room, gave a simple self-introduction, and then went completely still.
Zhang Chenze’s brow twitched slightly.
Even Wu Jin squinted at him.
The director’s assistant cleared his throat and whispered a reminder: “Mr. Fu, you may begin.”
Without changing his expression, Fu Juncheng said, “I’m sorry, I haven’t received the audition script yet.”
Why he hadn’t received it went without saying.
Originally, it wasn’t needed.
Later on, it was forgotten.
The atmosphere sank for a moment.
Zhang Chenze leaned back in his chair and snapped the cap onto the fountain pen in his hand.
Wu Jin’s expression was also very unsightly.
He had never paid attention to such matters, but he hadn’t expected Fu Juncheng to be so careless about his own affairs either.
It dragged him down and made him lose face as well.
Cursing a fool inwardly, Wu Jin prepared to speak up and smooth things over.
As long as he opened his mouth, no matter how pedantic Zhang Chenze was, it would be impossible for him not to give him face.
Suddenly, everyone heard Fu Juncheng say: “Director Zhang, just pick a random segment for me.”
That phrasing sounded just like a delinquent student who missed a class exam, yet upon getting caught, still brazenly told the head teacher to just hand him any random test paper, claiming he could write anything.
Arrogant and unbridled.
Because the people being selected were mostly newcomers, the audition scripts had been sent out to the actors early on precisely so they could prepare thoroughly and avoid messing up on the spot.
The actor’s assistant was sharp; seeing this, he quickly said, “Why don’t we have Mr. Fu go down and prepare for a bit, and I’ll call the others in first…”
Zhang Chenze tapped the desk lightly with his fountain pen and spoke, “Xiao Li, hand him the copy you just got.”
The assistant was clearly stunned, but still followed Zhang Chenze’s instructions, quickly handing the newly received script to Fu Juncheng.
“Turn to the third page from the bottom, start from the second paragraph,” Zhang Chenze said casually.
Fu Juncheng nodded, reading through it quickly and with a calm expression.
When it came to acting, he had never been afraid of anything.
This was the scene right before the character’s story arc wrapped up.
As a drug addict whose hands were stained with blood and who had committed all sorts of evil, his soul only deserved to be hidden in a sunless gutter.
He was selfish and vicious, stopping at nothing. To avoid falling into the hands of the police, he wouldn’t even spare a three-year-old child.
And now, the net of justice was vast, letting nothing slip through; the male lead, who was his childhood friend, had finally uncovered all his crimes.
This was a scene for two actors.
At this very moment, however, it was Fu Juncheng’s solo performance.
He gently placed the script on the table by the wall. When he turned back and raised his head, those previously calm and delicate brows suddenly radiated a sinister glare.
Even the accidental twitch of his lips into a faint smile was like a freshly unsharpened blade, abruptly slicing through the stagnant air and unleashing a biting, chilling wind that made people shiver.
None of the examiners present could help holding their breath.
“I know you look down on me.”
Fu Juncheng leisurely brushed the hair from his forehead, the smile at the corner of his mouth expanding silently as he paced forward, tugging at the small unhealed scab on the side of his face.
“It doesn’t matter.” His gaze landed on a vacant point in the void, as if speaking to some nonexistent protagonist, or perhaps merely talking to himself: “Yet you think you’re a good person?”
The moment his words fell, there was half a second of silence.
He suddenly let out a low chuckle, the tiny spark in his pitch-black pupils burning brighter and brighter, which was all his desire to live.
Paranoid and arrogant.
He wasn’t resigned; why should others be born worry-free while he didn’t even have a roof to shelter from the rain?
He had done all kinds of evil.
Yet who else dared claim they had never done a single wrong thing!
He was just doing more than others for the sake of survival, with faults only slightly larger than everyone else’s!
Fu Juncheng’s eyes narrowed abruptly.
As if thinking of something quite amusing.
Bang!
Almost simultaneously, everyone was startled into drawing a sharp breath, watching as Fu Juncheng quickened his pace and reached the examiners’ desk in the blink of an eye.
It was Wu Jin’s spot.
The hand Fu Juncheng slammed onto the desk suddenly tightened, as if tightly gripping that filthy, muddy land deep in his heart, refusing to let go.
Because he used too much force, the veins on the back of his hand began to surface one by one.
“Shouldn’t you go to hell?”
He breathed heavily, his tone shifting from slow to urgent, his voice growing louder:
“Let me tell you, if I meet a wretched end, don’t you think about surviving either!”
“If you hadn’t argued with Qianqian that day, she wouldn’t have run out alone, and how would she have run into me?”
“If you had chased after her back then, how could she have died?!”
“It was all you! You’re the real culprit!”
“You beast!”
The long-tensed string snapped suddenly.
Inside the room, there was silence for a moment.
Fu Juncheng took a step back, gave a sincere half-bow to indicate his performance was finished, yet kept his gaze locked on Wu Jin’s slightly pale face, the corners of his mouth slowly curling into a shallow arc.
He knew Wu Jin had been scared.
After all, usually no one dared to roar at Wu Jin like that.
Actually, he would have quite liked to perform a scene opposite Wu Jin.
That way, he could have punched him right in the face.
After a long silence, Wu Jin finally recovered his wits, his words squeezed out through clenched teeth: “Fu Juncheng, you…”
“Is this your first time reading this script?” Zhang Chenze spoke a step faster than Wu Jin, “You’ve never seen it before?”
He had originally thought this would be a warning to make the young man understand some discretion and not be too arrogant.
Yet the result caught him completely unawares.
Turning a blind eye to the anger in Wu Jin’s eyes, Fu Juncheng shook his head at Zhang Chenze: “No.”
It truly was his first time seeing it.
However, the tone of the story had been briefly mentioned in the original text.
Zhang Chenze stared at him for a long while, then used the tip of his pen to lightly swipe a line across the actor roster.
After thinking for a moment, Fu Juncheng turned his head back toward Wu Jin.
A hint of amusement flashed quietly across his eyes as he spoke with hesitant reluctance: “Did President Wu have something you wanted to say to me just now?”
Wu Jin remained silent.
With a cold face, he glared at him angrily.
Fu Juncheng stated candidly, “That last line was because I was too immersed in the role and added it on the spot.”
Wu Jin: “…”
Fu Juncheng: “President Wu won’t mind, right?”
Care whether you mind or not?
I was cursing you specifically!