Chapter 169: Audition Ends
The assistant directors: “!”
Good question—when they first finished watching, their immediate reaction was also to ask: Who on earth wrote this?! The person who wrote the original material must have had something seriously wrong in their head. Even though this was just a portion of the scene used for the audition, it was enough to drive people crazy.
They didn’t even dare imagine what it would be like to read the whole thing—surely their CPUs would overheat and fry.
Besides, this kind of film content had only ever appeared at the very dawn of cinematic history; no one had dared touch it since. Would anyone really pay to see this?
Where did Shen Xiu even find this script?
Shen Xiu: “…I wrote it.”
Wasn’t this just an audition? What did it matter who wrote it? Shen Xiu genuinely didn’t understand their confusion.
Ji Huaiyin: “?”
The assistant directors: “?”
After answering Ji Huaiyin’s question, Shen Xiu heard no response. Worried that they’d gone over the allotted time he had set for himself, he asked, “Is there a problem?”
Immediately, everyone in the room—except for Shen Xiu—shook their heads in perfect unison and said in chorus, “No, no, absolutely no problem!”
Shen Xiu felt reassured.
“Continue.”
Ji Huaiyin: “…Alright.”
Good thing he’d held back and hadn’t blurted out the “What kind of lunatic wrote this?” thought that had flashed through his mind.
Otherwise, not only would he have been kicked out, he probably would’ve offended Shen Xiu too.
The assistant directors: “……”
Good thing we didn’t say what we were really thinking!
Ten minutes later, the prep time ended, and Ji Huaiyin began his performance.
Five minutes later, the audition was over.
Although it didn’t quite hit the feeling Shen Xiu was aiming for, it was on par with what Shen Xiu had seen of Ji Huaiyin’s acting in other dramas.
Following the audition process he had researched online, Shen Xiu began delivering the feedback he had already drafted in his mind.
Shen Xiu directly announced on the spot: “Mr. Ji, congratulations, you’ve passed the audition. If the contract—”
Before he could finish, one of the assistant directors blurted out in confusion, “Wait… Director Shen, it’s decided just like that? Aren’t we going to watch the others’ auditions?”
Only after speaking did the assistant director realize he had interrupted Shen Xiu mid-sentence.
Still, he didn’t think what he said was wrong.
This was Shen Xiu’s first film. None of them could imagine how many people might show up for the audition.
And choosing the very first person without seeing anyone else felt unfair to the remaining candidates. Unless an investor was pushing someone into the role, the standard audition process had always been to review all performances and then choose based on a comprehensive evaluation.
But Shen Xiu had just picked someone after the very first try—it seemed a bit too arbitrary.
Hearing that, Shen Xiu paused mid-checkmark with his pen. Thinking the assistant directors recommended by Shi Buwen had objections, he looked up and asked, “Was there anything wrong with Ji Huaiyin’s performance just now?”
The assistant directors thought back. There really wasn’t—Ji Huaiyin was exceptionally good at portraying this kind of twisted, dark character. One by one, they answered honestly:
“No… nothing wrong.”
“Same here.”
…
After listening to all the responses, Shen Xiu gave a small nod. “Since there’s no issue, then it’s Ji Huaiyin.”
If there was no problem, there was no need to waste time. Shen Xiu was worried that if anything went off schedule, he’d end up dreaming about it at night—dreams where things had deviated from his carefully planned timeline.
Then he added, “There’s no need to worry about ‘seeing the others.’ There are no others. Ji Huaiyin is the only one auditioning for the role of Qin Xiao in New Life.”
Ji Huaiyin: “!”
So… Shen Xiu had already set his sights on him from the beginning!
Thinking back on his initial reaction to reading the script, Ji Huaiyin felt a wave of guilt.
The assistant directors: …We were too hasty!
Very well—they were finally getting a firsthand taste of Shen Xiu’s decisiveness and assertiveness. Turned out, Shen Xiu had always intended for Ji Huaiyin to play the lead, and had only invited him to audition for the role.
Shi Buwen thought back to the types of roles Ji Huaiyin had played before, and couldn’t help but feel a bit puzzled—
So, Shen Xiu was aiming for a lead character who looked like a cheerful, sunny boy on the outside, but was actually twisted and crawling with darkness on the inside every single moment?
Shen Xiu looked toward Ji Huaiyin. “Mr. Ji, you—”
Ji Huaiyin knew what Shen Xiu was about to say and quickly cut in, “No problem at all. It’s an honor to work with Director Shen!”
Upon hearing the words “Director Shen,” Shen Xiu averted his gaze in embarrassment, turning to Jin Can. “Assistant Jin.”
Jin Can smiled and walked up to Ji Huaiyin. “Mr. Ji, please come with me.”
Ji Huaiyin: “…Alright.”
Wait… were they taking him to sign the contract already?
“Next.”
Just as Ji Huaiyin was leaving the audition room, he heard that voice from inside. His steps faltered slightly—it all felt a little unreal.
—
Jin Can handed one of the signed copies of the contract to Ji Huaiyin’s manager. “Looking forward to working together.”
Ji Huaiyin reached out and shook his hand. “Likewise.”
As soon as Jin Can left, the manager said blankly, “Th-that’s it? It’s really this fast?”
Ji Huaiyin: “Forget you, even I’m stunned. As expected of Shen Xiu’s team—they’re all about efficiency. Even the pace of auditioning and signing contracts is aggressive enough to crush everyone else in the industry. Bro, if you’ve got stuff to handle, go ahead. The audition’s done anyway. I’ll stay here and wait for Director Shen, like Assistant Jin said.”
His manager nodded. “Alright, I’ll go check in on Xiao Liu—this is his first time filming, and I don’t feel comfortable leaving him alone. If anything comes up on your end, just give me a cal—No wait, how about I send your assistant over instead?”
Ji Huaiyin refused without even thinking about it. “No need. Look at Director Shen—he’s usually by himself. He only hired Assistant Jin today because he actually needed help. If I bring an assistant along when I’m just here for an audition, what if it gives Director Shen a bad impression of me?”
The manager thought about it and realized it made sense.
Anyone who had seen the Storm crew livestreaming from the Basat Awards knew that Shen Xiu only brought people with him when absolutely necessary.
In countries like this, where the safety factor was high, Shen Xiu clearly preferred not having people around him. He simply wasn’t used to others getting too close.
“Alright, see you.”
“See you.”
—
By 6:30 PM, the audition was over.
While Shen Xiu was in the waiting room—set up specifically for post-audition conversations—discussing with the selected actors, the assistant directors stayed behind in the audition room, finally able to talk freely.
The moment Shen Xiu and Shi Buwen left, the assistant directors, who had held back all day, couldn’t help but start speaking one after another.
“This is the first time I’ve seen auditions go this fast. We used to take at least four or five days—Director Shen wrapped it all up in a single day. Unreal.”
“What’s even crazier is that the people Director Shen invited to audition all match the exact body types and facial structures listed in that chart he showed us. As expected of Shen Xiu—he has to maintain absolute control over everything. It’s like he boxed everything into rigid parameters. Tell me that doesn’t give you goosebumps!”
“The Galaxy’s Zhuang Yining, Ning Sinian, Jiang Yanxi, and Xiang Yueting all showed up too. You think Director Shen gave them some kind of special treatment?”
“Come on, don’t talk nonsense. When have you ever seen someone getting special treatment just to end up with a minor or early-death role? Look at the list Director Shen gave us—didn’t you notice that every one of those The Galaxy members matched the personality traits of the characters they were assigned?”
“I’m speechless. Is that the point? The real point is… the script for New Life was written by Director Shen himself—and it’s just so… twisted and deranged.”
“Agreed. Our Director Shen, when it comes to the psychological side of things… he’s truly… not like the rest of us!”
Click—
The door to the room was pushed open from the outside, and Shi Buwen appeared in the doorway.
As he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, he smiled while looking around at everyone in the room.
The moment they saw him, all conversation in the room came to an abrupt halt.
“D-Director Shi…”
“Hahaha, Director Shi… um, how much did you happen to hear?”
Unlike them, Shi Buwen was close to Shen Xiu. If he went and tattled to Shen Xiu, their positions as assistant directors might be in jeopardy.
Shi Buwen’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Unfortunately for you… I heard everything.”
The assistant directors: “…”
“Ahem, Director Shi, please don’t take it the wrong way—what we meant was, Director Shen truly lives up to his name. Even in terms of psychological depth, he’s way ahead of all of us. Right, guys? Isn’t that what we meant?”
“Hahaha, yes, yes, exactly what we meant.”
“Totally right!”
Shi Buwen’s mouth twitched slightly. “You think saying it that way makes it any less obvious what you actually meant?”
“Director Shi, we…”
“Alright, that’s enough.” Shi Buwen waved them off, clearly impatient. “Considering we’ve worked together so many times, and we’re all friends here, let’s not say stuff like that again. Even if my little junior doesn’t care when he hears it, we, as his seniors, don’t exactly feel great about it. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear anything this time—but there won’t be a next.”
“Alright.”
“Yes… understood…”
The few of them nodded awkwardly.
Shi Buwen walked to his seat and began gathering the materials he’d left on his desk earlier.
—
In another room.
Shen Xiu strode toward the spot Jin Can had reserved for him in the front.
Jin Can followed closely behind, arms full with a stack of scripts.
With some reluctance, Shen Xiu sat down in the seat at the very front, as arranged by Jin Can. His gaze swept over the actors who had signed on for the New Life production. He swallowed twice, trying to moisten his dry throat before speaking.
“Hello, everyone.”
As he spoke, Shen Xiu’s eyes landed on Xiang Yueting and the others sitting in the back row. He couldn’t quite understand why they were back there—those guys usually loved sitting in the front.
Now he was surrounded by strangers he’d only met for the second time in real life. It made him… pretty nervous.
When Ning Sinian and the others noticed Shen Xiu looking their way, they instinctively straightened their posture.
“Old Xiang, you were right—as soon as we sat in Captain Xiu’s usual spot, he really did look over at us.”
“Of course. No one knows Captain Xiu better than me!”
The actors sitting in front of Jiang Yanxi and his group overheard them and thought—yep, no wonder these guys are Shen Xiu’s favorites. Only they would dare whisper right in front of him. This was like whispering in front of a homeroom teacher.
Shen Xiu: “Assistant Jin, please distribute the scripts by name.”
Jin Can nodded. “Yes, Director Shen.”
Before meeting with Shen Xiu, everyone in the room had already eaten the hotel-provided dinner and wasn’t feeling hungry.
In less than ten minutes, Jin Can had distributed both the individual role scripts and the complete script according to each actor’s name.
As a result, everyone now held two script booklets.
Shen Xiu’s gaze swept across the room to make sure each person had received their scripts before proceeding with the plan he had carefully laid out.
Shen Xiu said, “The full script of New Life is 120,000 words long. It’s not lengthy. Based on the distribution of roles, each character’s individual lines amount to just a few pages. You have one week to read and memorize your lines. Any problems?”
As the lead actor, Ji Huaiyin—playing the role of Qin Xiao—had the most lines, so his personal script was naturally the thickest. Shen Xiu looked directly at Ji Huaiyin and asked, “Do you have any problems?”
Hearing Shen Xiu’s cold and merciless tone, the actors who had been thrilled just moments ago over being signed onto the project now felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over their heads—soaking them through and through.
Under Shen Xiu’s emotionless gaze, Ji Huaiyin found himself unable to say anything in protest.
“…No.”
The others glanced at Ji Huaiyin with sympathetic eyes and began responding one after another:
“No.”
“No problem.”
“Got it.”
…
Clearly, Shen Xiu’s New Life production team was nothing like any other crew—they weren’t even remotely in the same league.
They hadn’t even officially started filming yet, but everyone could already foresee the intense, cutthroat grind that awaited them once they joined the set.
As for throwing tantrums or acting like divas and delaying production? Please. Just the thought of the name “Shen Xiu” alone—who would dare?
Hearing everyone’s agreement, Shen Xiu finally let out a breath and turned to Ji Huaiyin. “Ji Huaiyin, stay. The rest of you are free to go.”
Ji Huaiyin: “!”
Wait—seriously? He wanted to discuss the role right now?
As the lead actor, Shen Xiu felt it was absolutely necessary to personally supervise Ji Huaiyin as he read through the entire novel. That way, they could communicate and exchange interpretations directly—he couldn’t risk Ji Huaiyin reading it alone and coming away with a version of Qin Xiao that was completely different from the one he had envisioned.
“Got it.”
“Goodbye, Director Shen!”
“Bye-bye, Director Shen!”
“See you, Captain Xiu!”
“Bye, Captain Xiu!”
…
Less than a minute later, only three people remained in the room: Ji Huaiyin, Shen Xiu, and Jin Can.
Holding two scripts of differing thickness in his arms, Ji Huaiyin stood up and looked at Shen Xiu nervously. “Director Shen.”
He finally understood why Jin Can had asked earlier if he was free that evening, had scheduled a time with him, and told him to finish reading the full story by tonight. Now it all made sense.
Shen Xiu was nervous facing Ji Huaiyin alone, but no matter how anxious he felt, he had to confront it. If the lead actor misunderstood the character, it would only affect the filming.
Shen Xiu said, “Mr. Ji, please have a seat.”
“…Alright.”
Hearing Shen Xiu’s cold and commanding tone that left no room for refusal, Ji Huaiyin spoke even as his body instinctively sat down.
Now that Jin Can was standing beside him and Ji Huaiyin was the only one seated across from him, Shen Xiu could no longer avoid eye contact like before. For the sake of courtesy, he forced himself to meet Ji Huaiyin’s gaze.
Shen Xiu sat down, steeling himself to look Ji Huaiyin in the eyes. His hand rested on the chair’s armrest, palm cold. He subconsciously gripped the rounded edge of the armrest tightly.
“Mr. Ji, Assistant Jin should’ve told you—I need you to finish reading the full version of New Life tonight. Is that a problem?”
Ji Huaiyin quickly shook his head. “Assistant Jin already told me. No problem.”
In order to escape from Shen Xiu’s hawk-like, piercing gaze, Ji Huaiyin quickly said, “Director Shen, I’ll read it right now!”
Reading the script in front of Shen Xiu? Could that possibly be more stressful than locking eyes with him? He’d read it!
Ji Huaiyin was the first to look away. Shen Xiu’s Adam’s apple bobbed a few times, and his hand, which had been gripping the chair’s armrest, quietly loosened. “Mm.”
Ji Huaiyin: “!”
Why could someone make others feel immense pressure with just a single indifferent “mm”?
Since Ji Huaiyin didn’t refuse, Shen Xiu proceeded according to Plan A in his head and turned to Jin Can. “Assistant Jin, please bring me my laptop. Thank you.”
Jin Can nodded. “Yes, Director Shen.”
A minute later, Jin Can sat to the side, watching as Shen Xiu placed the laptop on his knees, his gaze lowered slightly. His slender, well-defined fingers flew across the keyboard as he typed rapidly.
Jin Can: …Is he really this busy?
Although curious about what Shen Xiu was working on, he didn’t dare sneak a glance.
At 9 p.m., Ji Huaiyin finished reading the script Shen Xiu had given him. His hand holding the script trembled slightly, goosebumps covering his body from the first page to the last, never once subsiding.
In a daze, Ji Huaiyin stared blankly at Shen Xiu sitting not far away, still typing with pursed lips. His mouth opened slightly, his mind filled with a single overwhelming thought: Who am I? Where am I? Why did I ever think signing this contract was a good idea?
Would he… turn into a lunatic after filming this?
“Mr. Sh…” Ji Huaiyin was about to address him as Mr. Shen, but remembering Shen Xiu’s current status, he swallowed nervously and corrected himself, “Director Shen.”
The moment Ji Huaiyin looked over, Shen Xiu had already noticed. Finishing the last word he typed, Shen Xiu instinctively glanced at the time in the bottom right corner of his screen. Seeing that it perfectly matched his earlier estimate, he looked at Ji Huaiyin with satisfaction. “You’ve finished reading.”
Ji Huaiyin nodded. “Yes, I’ve finished.”
Swallowing to soothe his dry throat, Ji Huaiyin gathered his courage and asked, “Director Shen, don’t you think… this story is maybe just a tiny bit—like, just a billionth—ahead of its time for the current film market?”
Ji Huaiyin had originally wanted to say the story was “p*rverse,” but when he met Shen Xiu’s eyes—so devoid of warmth—he shivered and immediately switched to a more tactful word.
Shen Xiu looked puzzled. “Is it?”
New Life was written by him personally. Who could better understand how normal and logically sound the story was than himself?
Just like reviewing his own schoolwork, Shen Xiu had absolute confidence. He responded firmly, “It’s just a simple story.”
Ahead of its time?
Not even close.
Hearing Shen Xiu’s airy rebuttal, Ji Huaiyin began to doubt himself. Could it be… he was just overreacting due to his lack of experience?
He murmured, “Then… I guess not.”
Shen Xiu nodded. “Mm.”
Ji Huaiyin: “…”
He wasn’t sure why—he already knew Shen Xiu was intimidating—but he hadn’t realized that Shen Xiu was also… scary.
With the previous topic concluded, Shen Xiu smoothly brought the conversation back on track. “Mr. Ji, tell me your understanding of the character Qin Xiao.”
Ji Huaiyin replied, “Alright.”
“Qin Xiao, at his core…”
—
While Shen Xiu was discussing the script with Ji Huaiyin, news about the upcoming casting auditions for his film remained on trending searches all day.
Though not many actors were arranged to audition at the designated hotel, they were spotted coming out of the same building at different times. When paired with subtle hints dropped by the celebrities on social media in recent days, netizens quickly pieced things together.
But what drove people crazy was the complete lack of any official news. The auditions had already happened, Shen Xiu and the participating actors had trended multiple times throughout the day, yet by nightfall, there was still no word on Shen Xiu’s new movie.
As a result, the only thing fans could do was flood the comment sections of the auditioning actors’ social media pages, hoping for answers.
…
A few days earlier, Ning Sinian’s studio had already scheduled a livestream for that night, so he had no choice but to go live.
Even before the stream started, Ning Sinian had a strong feeling that his chat would be flooded with questions about Shen Xiu’s movie.
So when he saw the barrage of comments rolling in, he was already mentally prepared and stayed relatively calm.
“Sorry, I can’t say anything.”
“If you really want to know, go follow the official account of New Life. If there’s any news, it’ll definitely be posted there first.”
Ning Sinian’s tone was helpless. “We all signed NDAs when we signed the contract—no spoilers allowed.”
“I can’t tell you what it’s about, but I can promise that, judging by how fast Captain Xiu moves, you won’t be kept in suspense for long.”
…
At the same time that Ning Sinian ended his livestream, Shen Xiu wrapped up his discussion with Ji Huaiyin. He had Jin Can escort Ji Huaiyin home while he drove himself back to Yulin Banxia.
When he arrived home, Shen Xiu glanced at the time. It was just a few minutes before midnight.
Before heading into the bathroom, Shen Xiu said to the system, “System, please scan the blog post I’ve edited on the laptop and schedule it to be posted at midnight.”
System: [OK!]
While Shen Xiu showered, the system dove into his laptop, effortlessly locating the edited blog post.
Not only that, it also caught a glimpse of the full production plan for New Life.
[New Life?] The system paused at the document title, momentarily confused.
But it only lingered on the thought for a few seconds—its priority was scheduling the blog post, so it didn’t dwell on it.
…
At midnight, just as frustrated netizens were resigning themselves to another night without any juicy gossip, the official New Life account suddenly posted a blog update. Seeing the long string of @ mentions and the shooting schedule announcement at the end left everyone stunned and confused.
@New LifeOfficial: New Life will hold its kick-off ceremony on July 18. @Ji Huaiyin @Ning Sinian @Zhuang Yi …
— New Life? Is that the actual title of the original work? I searched and found several stories with the same name—so which one are you filming? Who wrote it? What’s it about? Argh, the suspense is killing me!
— Doesn’t seem to be any of them. I already DMed the authors of those works, and none of them are involved.
— That’s a long list of @s… did they just tag every actor with a speaking role?
— This is so Shen Xiu—blazingly fast as always. First time I’ve ever seen a production go from auditions to filming this quickly. Does that mean the shooting will also finish at light speed?
Once the post was up, comments from eager netizens quickly pushed it onto several trending lists. Meanwhile, the actors who had been tagged—mostly lesser-known names—were moved to tears that someone actually acknowledged their existence. Not only that, they were personally tagged by the official account of a Shen Xiu film. They all rushed to repost it.
But when they remembered the confidentiality agreements they had signed—and the two words Shen Xiu—they didn’t even dare to think about leaking spoilers.
None of them could say aloud that New Life was an original script personally written by Shen Xiu. And the content… was seriously twisted.
—
After his shower, Shen Xiu walked out of the bathroom and remembered the blog post he had asked the system to publish. On a rare impulse, he opened the account homepage and checked the comments.
Seeing one of the top comments, he clicked “Reply.”
— I wrote it. It’s a very positive and completely normal story.
