Chapter 18: Continuing the Audition
Lu Xu could only sigh. Whether it was in this life or the last, the entertainment industry was never short of assistant directors like this.
In his previous life, after he became famous, such people seemed to disappear overnight. Everyone he dealt with in production teams was polite, kind, and overly cautious, as if they dared not speak a harsh word to him. But in this life, his acting career had just begun. Although My Baby Prince had gained popularity, it hadn’t been recognized by the mainstream TV drama circles. In fact, in some ways, he had offended them.
After all, The Watchers was practically a flagship of the mainstream drama circle.
Lu Xu didn’t retaliate.
There were simply too many people in the industry who liked to throw around the “let me teach you a thing or two” attitude just because they had a bit of power. It was impossible to fight them all. If he clapped back now, it would only make him seem defensive because he didn’t get the role.
From Lu Xu’s understanding of the TV drama industry, it was unlikely that the assistant director would ever rise beyond his current position.
Successful directors always had strong personalities and distinct visions. Those without personal conviction could never create great works.
When it came to being an actor, Lu Xu had always believed in letting his work speak for itself.
The assistant director claimed he wouldn’t make it in the industry. But Lu Xu was determined to prove him wrong—and not just make it, but thrive better than anyone else.
He would provide the proof.
*
At the same time, in the Rising Sun production team.
Gu Sinian gave assistant director Chen Changyin a look, signaling him to follow. Chen Changyin approached quietly, and Gu Sinian frowned. “Still no reply?”
“No,” Chen Changyin said, lighting a cigarette. “I sent him another message, though. He hasn’t blocked me, but he’s not responding.”
Lu Xu had no idea about the casting dynamics within the Rising Sun crew.
In truth, both director Mu Qian and screenwriter Jin Mugeng preferred Lu Xu for the role of Wu Shen. They wanted him to take the part. However, Gu Sinian, the male lead, disagreed.
Rising Sun was co-produced by Lin Ge Entertainment and Feiwo Films. Feiwo Films wanted the role of Wu Shen to be played by one of their own artists.
The casting controversy stirred up significant drama, to the point where Mu Qian nearly had a falling-out with the investors. After a week of back-and-forth negotiations, the director finally relented.
However, the incident left Mu Qian deeply dissatisfied. He declared outright that he wouldn’t collaborate with Lin Ge Entertainment again in the future.
The person tasked with delivering the rejection to Lu Xu was assistant director Chen Changyin.
All Chen Changyin needed to do was inform Lu Xu that he didn’t get the part. The additional remarks he made weren’t the official stance of the Rising Sun production team—they were entirely his own embellishments.
To be precise, it was part of a tacit understanding between Chen Changyin and Gu Sinian.
Chen Changyin’s role was to provoke Lu Xu into an emotional outburst. Whether Lu Xu responded with sarcasm or outright anger, it would serve as evidence of his “breaking down.”
The plan was to first stir up gossip about Lu Xu’s rejection, then leak his angry remarks, creating an image of Lu Xu as someone unprofessional and petty.
But neither Chen Changyin nor Gu Sinian anticipated that Lu Xu would remain completely unresponsive.
Given how Lu Xu constantly vented his frustrations on Weibo, criticizing this and that, they assumed he had a short temper.
Yet this time, Lu Xu refused to take the bait.
Without his reaction, there wasn’t much to exploit about his rejection. After all, he wasn’t the only actor who auditioned for the role of Wu Shen. Singling him out for mockery might provoke complaints from other rejected candidates. However, if Lu Xu had displayed an especially “low-class” reaction, it could have been used to highlight the professionalism of other actors by contrast.
Simply publicizing Lu Xu’s rejection could also risk angering Mu Qian.
The director wasn’t someone to trifle with. If truly provoked, he might very well sever ties with the production altogether.
It wouldn’t have been the first time Mu Qian had done something like that.
Gu Sinian sighed in disappointment.
Even so, the fact that Lu Xu didn’t land the role in Rising Sun still pleased him immensely.
Gu Sinian grudgingly acknowledged the popularity of My Baby Prince and even admitted that Lu Xu’s acting was impressive—so much so that Mu Qian couldn’t stop thinking about him for the role. He was both infuriated and envious of Lu Xu’s inexplicable ability to attract a director’s favor.
But at the same time, Gu Sinian felt reassured: in the acting world, talent alone wasn’t enough—resources mattered just as much.
Otherwise, why could Gu Sinian land the male lead while Lu Xu couldn’t even get a shot at a lousy second male lead?
Lately, there had been a lot of exposés about Verse, which had caused Gu Sinian to lose a significant number of fans. The only thing that gave him a bit of satisfaction was the news that Lu Xu didn’t get the role.
My Baby Prince becoming a hit was sheer dumb luck for Lu Xu. Could he possibly get lucky again?
*
Failing to land the role of Wu Shen, Lu Xu naturally shifted his attention to a historical drama.
He had already received part of the script a while ago. Since the auditions had been delayed, he still had time to prepare.
Although he hadn’t acted in many historical dramas, it didn’t mean he was inexperienced. In the early days of his career, Lu Xu had even played an ambitious young emperor. However, he rarely portrayed timid or weak-willed characters, largely because—he almost always played the protagonist.
The production team had shown considerable sincerity, and during his preparation for the role, Lu Xu matched that sincerity with his own efforts. The script provided very little information about the character, which might have been a deliberate test from the production team. Nonetheless, as an actor, script analysis was a fundamental skill, and Lu Xu wasn’t going to fail at such a basic level.
After several days of preparation, he arranged a meeting with the production team.
Before the audition, Lu Xu did some research online. As in his past life, historical dramas in this world were a niche genre—high effort, low reward. They had enjoyed a golden age in the past, but with the influx of capital into the TV drama industry, few people had the patience to produce a meticulously crafted historical drama anymore. Even if such a show was made, there was no guarantee audiences would appreciate it.
In terms of prospects, this drama was certainly less promising than Rising Sun.
That said, Lu Xu had always believed that when everyone predicted a show would be a surefire hit, it often ended up being a flop.
Shows that were “destined to be hits” inevitably became battlegrounds for various stakeholders. Casting turned into a competition between companies, each flexing their influence. By the time the dust settled, who could say what would become of the script? The outcome was usually easy to imagine.
Lu Xu originally thought that this audition, like previous ones, would involve several candidates performing the same role. However, upon arrival, he realized that it seemed like he was the only one auditioning for the role of the Crown Prince.
The audition room, however, had more people than the Rising Sun crew. Director Liu Chunfeng and screenwriter Qin Yu sat in the center, flanked by a few familiar faces at the long table—likely actors already cast in the drama.
Liu Chunfeng had a stern face that seemed perpetually displeased. Even when silent, he looked as if he were angry. If he actually got mad, judging by his facial contours, he’d probably resemble a pufferfish. His demeanor suggested he was a man of few words, so much so that Qin Yu took on the task of explaining the scene.
Frankly, Lu Xu found it hard to imagine someone with a face like Liu Chunfeng’s watching My Baby Prince.
Could the assistant director have tricked him into coming here?
Either way, since he was already here, he might as well give it a shot.
“Let’s begin whenever you’re ready,” Qin Yu prompted.
The scene Lu Xu was about to perform featured the Crown Prince, Qin Zhao, who had been burdened with immense responsibility since his youth. The moment depicted him accidentally witnessing a rare display of fatherly warmth as the emperor held his younger brother.
The Crown Prince’s days were filled with studying, martial training, and learning the arts of rulership. Yet the emperor rarely showed him any affection. He was instead expected to adhere to strict decorum, serving as a model for the subjects of the empire and his siblings in the palace.
A moment like this—being held by his father—was something Qin Zhao had never experienced.
As Lu Xu began to prepare, both Liu Chunfeng and Qin Yu focused their attention on him.
In the scene, Qin Zhao had just been praised by his tutor for his academic progress. Filled with anticipation, he approached the emperor in hopes of demonstrating his achievements. But upon entering the imperial garden, he saw a scene that froze him in his tracks: the father he perceived as stern and unapproachable was tenderly holding his younger brother. Unlike Qin Zhao’s rigid demeanor, his brother interacted with their father like a child from an ordinary family, carefree and natural.
This scene had few lines for Qin Zhao.
His steps were originally light and brisk, occasionally slowing down as he reminded himself of the dignity expected of a crown prince.
But in the instant he saw his father and second brother, Qin Zhao halted and abruptly took a slow step back.
At that moment, a trace of disappointment flashed in his eyes. A brief pause later, his expression shifted into something more complex. On closer inspection, one could discern not just disappointment but also self-mockery. He even lowered his gaze for a moment, only to quickly lift it again.
He did not step forward again until his father and second brother’s figures disappeared from view. Only then did Qin Zhao return to his previous posture.
In other words, Lu Xu needed to fill these fleeting seconds with a wealth of emotion.
Standing directly opposite Liu Chunfeng and Qin Yu, Lu Xu’s position allowed both actors to see his portrayal of the scene more clearly—
From his expression, it was evident that Qin Zhao no longer held any expectations.
Yet, as a son, everyone assumed he was the favored one, though he alone knew otherwise. To claim he felt no disappointment was impossible.
Even in an ordinary family, an eldest son who was not valued would feel dejected.
And he was the crown prince. His father wielded not only the authority of a parent but also the oppressive weight of imperial power.
Thus, in this moment, Qin Zhao’s expression carried a hint of self-doubt as well.
Disappointment and doubt… the sorrow unconsciously emanating from him made these seconds feel anything but lengthy.
Lu Xu had a face well-suited for an actor—elegant and composed—but when he revealed his emotions, there was nothing in the audience’s line of sight except Qin Zhao.
When portraying this role, Lu Xu intentionally held back his emotions. The crown prince was cautious, timid, and gloomy. He was not the kind of elder brother respected by his siblings; instead, they all wished to remove him from his position as crown prince. During his youth, it was bearable, but as the years passed, Qin Zhao’s unease had grown into near-paranoia.
The reason for holding back in his performance was that this scene was not yet over.
After his father’s figure disappeared, one of his subordinates showed concern for him, but Qin Zhao merely waved his hand. “It’s nothing. I am the crown prince.”
At that moment, the complex emotions in Qin Zhao’s eyes had already vanished. His posture grew even more upright than before. To him, the title of crown prince was a burden of immense weight, the source of his unease, but it was also his armor.
With that, this segment of the audition officially came to an end.
“Let’s try this scene again. You have thirty minutes to prepare.”
Lu Xu hadn’t anticipated an impromptu performance.
However, auditions generally followed one of two formats: either actors were given ample time to prepare beforehand, or they were asked to improvise on the spot.
Lu Xu accepted the script, realizing that the section in his hands was from much later in the story. Before the audition, the production team had only provided him with a few pages, all from the early parts of the plot.
He knew this was a later scene because, in this script, Qin Zhao had already been deposed as the crown prince.
Freed from the shackles of his former title, Qin Zhao now faced the emperor as a son driven mad by despair. His words, sharp as blades, laid bare years of pent-up resentment, exposing each grievance without reservation.
The screenwriter, Qin Yu, handed the script to Lu Xu with a natural ease, and the director’s calm expression suggested this had been prearranged.
For this segment, Lu Xu was assigned a partner—none other than the male lead of the series, Cheng Yun, who played the emperor.
