Exchange of Movie Queens - Chapter 18

The staff went in to notify, and after a while, came back out to invite Xi Mo: “Miss Ruan, it’s time.”

 

 

The door was already open, waiting for her. As Xi Mo entered, she still lightly knocked on the door first. Only after hearing Lin Qitang’s “Come in” from inside did she step in.

 

 

Thinking about it, no matter where she went, she rarely ever knocked—not because she lacked manners. In fact, she had been instilled with strict etiquette from a young age. Rather, it was because most of the time, she simply didn’t need to.

 

 

Usually, others would open the door for her, either thoughtfully or respectfully inviting her inside.

 

 

If she were still Xi Mo, Lin Qitang would have undoubtedly come out to greet her. Back when he was trying to cast her as the female lead, he had gone to great lengths. It was only because Lin Qitang held Xi Mo in such high regard that “Ruan Yesheng” even had this opportunity to be here now.

 

 

In this industry, those past their prime often fare worse than newcomers. Times had changed, and as an “old newcomer,” she had to quickly adapt to playing the humble role. After all, she had acted in all kinds of roles—life itself was just a performance, relying entirely on acting skills.

 

 

Lin Qitang sat at his work desk. She stood about two meters away, smiling and nodding. “Director Lin, hello. I’m Ruan Yesheng, here for the audition.”

 

 

Lin Qitang was flipping through her resume.

 

 

There was no photo attached, and the information provided was sparse—something that had initially displeased him. But now, he lifted his gaze to the woman before him, and his eyes involuntarily lingered.

 

 

Ruan Yesheng’s looks and figure were undoubtedly first-rate, instantly captivating. Most importantly, she had remarkable distinctiveness. The entertainment industry was full of beautiful faces, yet some never rose to fame—audiences couldn’t even recognize them on screen because they lacked memorability.

 

 

The woman before him stood with impeccable posture, her aura innate.

 

 

Simply standing there, she was a sight to behold.

 

 

Especially that elusive yet palpable air Xi Mo exuded—it seized Lin Qitang’s attention without question in that moment.

 

 

Among directors, Lin Qitang was relatively young, just in his thirties, making him part of the new wave. Directors generally fell into three categories: artistic, commercial, and hybrid. Artistic directors were extremely demanding, with strong personal styles. They prioritized artistic integrity over box office or ratings and rarely engaged in under-the-table dealings. Commercial directors, on the other hand, chased profits and often compromised with industry norms. If producers pushed certain actors for promotion, they’d comply. If sensational, over-the-top dramas could grab attention and boost ratings, they wouldn’t hesitate to churn out such productions.

 

 

Lin Qitang happened to be the third type—a hybrid of both.

 

 

 

On one hand, he hoped the casting would align more with his personal preferences. For the crucial role of Ding E, he had been personally vetting countless actors, including some currently popular ones, yet remained undecided as none met his envisioned standard. On the other hand, Xi Mo had unexpectedly recommended Ruan Yesheng, making her endorsement unmistakably clear. Given that Xi Mo had previously only starred in films, her willingness to join this TV series would itself become a major selling point. With her massive fanbase and influence, the project’s trajectory was practically guaranteed.

 

 

Truth be told, her agreement to participate had only come after his persistent pleading. However reluctant, he couldn’t afford to disregard Xi Mo’s recommendation. His initial plan was to accept Ruan Yesheng if she met basic competency.

 

 

Yet upon meeting her in person, her appearance and demeanor far exceeded his expectations.

 

 

Noticing Lin Qitang’s slight softening in expression, the observant Xi Mo remained silent, knowing this was the moment to wait for his verdict.

 

 

Setting down the resume, Lin Qitang’s demeanor cooled considerably. “Your profile mentions prior work in commercials and music videos, plus a film years ago. Given the timeline, you’re hardly a newcomer. Why omit the film’s title?”

 

 

Xi Mo smiled. “That feels like ancient history. I consider myself a fresh start now. Thank you for this audition opportunity, Director Lin.”

 

 

Now you play the humble card! Weren’t you shamelessly camping outside my door begging me to take the lead role back then?

 

 

Lin Qitang responded neutrally, “Very well. Let’s proceed with the first scene from the audition script.”

 

 

Xi Mo lowered her head.

 

 

Her elegant features followed the motion as she took two poised, deliberate steps forward. Hands folded, she bowed deeply and murmured, “As you command.”

 

 

Her voice was tranquil.

 

 

In that instant, she became someone else entirely.

 

 

Han Dynasty palace etiquette demanded absolute precision—every gesture, every posture steeped in ritual. Though dressed in modern casual wear, Xi Mo’s bow conjured the image of traditional curved-hem robes, her demeanor infused with classical grace.

 

 

Every detail was perfected: a woman’s bow required the right hand covering the left.

 

 

Lin Qitang instinctively straightened, watching intently.

 

 

Her response of “As you command” not only fulfilled the first audition scene but also seamlessly acknowledged his instruction to begin.

 

 

Here, she was the epitome of reverence—Ding E, the seemingly flawless and utterly devoted attendant. Even while bowing, she kept her gaze lowered, maintaining this deferential facade before Deng Sui. The young Deng Sui, still naive and cheerful, often tried coaxing the solemn Ding E into laughter during their playful moments, rarely succeeding.

 

 

The first scene depicted an ordinary moment before Deng Sui entered the palace, where she tasked Ding E with an errand outside the estate. Ding E’s reply exemplified her characteristic calm reserve and humility.

 

 

Yet beneath that quiet deference lurked an unshakable, icy confidence.

 

 

There was nothing she couldn’t accomplish.

 

 

And Deng Sui trusted her implicitly.

 

 

 

The bowing posture made it difficult to clearly see Xi Mo’s features, yet Lin Qitang could accurately discern the hint of pride beneath her deference—something absent in previous auditioning actors who failed to grasp the role’s depth, merely portraying Ding E’s surface-level obedience.

 

 

Lin Qitang took a sip of water. “Good, next scene.”

 

 

Same lines. Same monotonous affirmation of “Understood.”

 

 

Scene transition.

 

 

This time, it was Deng Sui’s father, Deng Xun, ordering Ding E to execute an assassin—who had attempted to kill Deng Sui—in their presence.

 

 

The assassin was Ding E’s own elder brother.

 

 

Deng Sui’s grandfather, Deng Yu, had been a battlefield general who rendered outstanding service to Emperor Guangwu Liu Xiu, establishing the Deng family’s prestige. Their involvement in founding the new dynasty inevitably bred enemies, and by Deng Xun’s generation, undercurrents of danger ran deep. Keen-eyed and cautious, Deng Xun noticed the fleeting glances exchanged between the assassin and Ding E during the skirmish—enough to sow suspicion.

 

 

To dispel doubts, he commanded Ding E to kill the man.

 

 

Xi Mo stood motionless, hands folded in ritual greeting. The voluminous ancient robes obscured her face as she stole a glance toward Lin Qitang—her imagined Deng Sui—before uttering flatly: “Understood.”

 

 

A single syllable, devoid of inflection.

 

 

Facing her own brother, she obeyed Deng Xun’s order without hesitation—yet this time, the word’s tail carried an imperceptible drag, a fractional freeze.

 

 

Lin Qitang felt his soul wrenched by that concealed glance.

 

 

Great actors magnetize attention when immersed; the finest pull their scene partners into the reality, dissolving the set’s artifice.

 

 

Unlike her later ruthless persona, young Deng Sui retained girlish innocence, recoiling from bloodshed. Though Ding E had long been stained crimson by Deng Xun’s orders, Deng Sui still wished to spare her this violence.

 

 

That ghostly gaze transformed Lin Qitang. He became Deng Sui receiving that silent plea—as scripted, the character senses Ding E’s reluctance and seeks to withdraw. Clutching his chest (Deng Sui being wounded), he contorted into delicate fragility and murmured: “Father, Sui’er shall retire.”

 

 

Xi Mo: “…”

 

 

Who authorized you to improvise with me?!

 

 

She completed the bow, hands folded, demurely awaiting.

 

 

Only after the imagined Deng Sui departed did she raise her eyes toward the void where her master’s back would be. Fingers curled as if gripping a blade, expressionless, she strode forward with apparent resolve.

 

 

 

The assassin was in that direction. She was still playing the role of Ding E. Lin Qitang noticed his own lapse in composure and subtly cleared his throat before taking a sip of water. “Good, let’s move on to the next scene.”

 

 

The third scene still involved Yi Zi Nuo’s lines.

 

 

With Liu Zhao dead, Deng Sui had now become the all-powerful Empress Dowager. The distance between her and Ding E had grown, though both maintained a facade, never addressing the rift openly.

 

 

Deng Sui ordered Ding E to assassinate an obstinate old minister at court, disguising it as an accident. The minister had been deeply dissatisfied with her regency, forming factions to plot rebellion. To stabilize the situation, she had no choice but to strike first.

 

 

By now, Ding E had already killed countless people for her.

 

 

Xi Mo took two steps forward and bowed. “As you command.”

 

 

At this moment, she raised her eyes, staring straight ahead as if looking through nonexistent wide sleeves, her gaze piercing the empty space before her.

 

 

Deng Sui stood before her.

 

 

For countless years, Xi Mo had kept her head bowed and eyes lowered in Deng Sui’s presence. But now, time had shifted, and she could look at her like this. A skilled actor’s performance often shines through their eyes—every flicker of emotion, every subtle glance, becomes a scene in itself.

 

 

Lin Qitang, as if possessed, met her gaze directly. “Keeper of the Palace, I’ve ordered you to kill again. Are you weary of it?”

 

 

Xi Mo: “…”

 

 

Lin Qitang, you’ve lost your mind!

 

 

Why don’t you just play the female lead yourself!

 

 

What did you even hire me for!

 

 

Deng Sui, as regent, held power above all others, effectively a female emperor. Thus, in the later parts of the script, she would refer to herself as “zhen” (imperial “we”), as she was historically the first woman to do so. Ding E, as her personal attendant, had been granted the honorary title of Keeper of the Palace to remain by her side.

 

 

Expressionless, Xi Mo bowed again, humoring the eccentric director. “Whatever the Empress Dowager commands, I shall do.”

 

 

Suddenly, Lin Qitang snapped out of it. He waved at Xi Mo, somewhat awkwardly, and said, “No need to rehearse the long monologue that follows. By the way, Miss Ruan, what’s your relationship with Xi Mo? I heard her mention you—I’m quite curious.”

 

 

Xi Mo replied, “We were classmates.”

 

 

Lin Qitang nodded as if everything made sense now. “You graduated from the same school? Your resume was too brief, so I wasn’t sure. Which agency are you signed with, Miss Ruan?”

 

 

“I’m not with any agency, but I have a private manager.” The thought of Yan Tinghuan waiting outside made Xi Mo’s temper flare again.

 

 

Ruan Yesheng must be blind to have signed with her.

 

 

Among directors, Lin Qitang was known for favoring newcomers, and he had indeed launched the careers of many young actors. This time, he hoped to leverage Xi Mo’s influence to bring in fresh faces—actors with little fame but the right presence and skill for the role of Ding E.

 

 

Lin Qitang smiled at Xi Mo. “Would Miss Ruan be interested in signing with my studio?”

 

 

Xi Mo returned his gaze with a perfectly measured smile.

 

 

Ten minutes later, Xi Mo emerged, accompanied by a staff member. Yan Tinghuan rose from the couch and greeted them. “How did it go?”

 

 

Her relaxed demeanor was hardly that of a manager.

 

 

Xi Mo stayed silent, but the staff member answered, “Congratulations, the role is confirmed. Director Lin will send over the schedule soon—please be ready for the upcoming work arrangements.”

 

 

 

“Thank you, thank you.” Yan Tinghuan beamed as she shook hands with the staff. “We’ll take our leave now and wait for Director Lin’s follow-up message.”

 

 

With that, she affectionately wrapped her arm around Xi Mo: “I always knew my Ruan Ruan was the best.”

 

 

Xi Mo shuddered at her touch, but just then, a staff member called out to Yan Tinghuan again: “Excuse me, Miss Yan, I have a personal favor to ask.”

 

 

“What is it?” Yan Tinghuan turned back with a smile.

 

 

“Is there still space available in that memory acceleration class?” The staff member asked shyly. “Is it really true that the trial month is completely free?”

 

 

Yan Tinghuan: “?”

 

 

Xi Mo had already gracefully shaken off Yan Tinghuan’s hand and strode ahead. Yan Tinghuan paused briefly before responding with an enigmatic smile, “Oh, that? I heard the slots are full already. If there’s another session, I’ll let you know?”

 

 

After brushing off the staff member, Yan Tinghuan caught up to Xi Mo and immediately linked arms with her again. “Ruan Ruan, to celebrate you landing the role, let’s treat ourselves to a nice meal?”

 

 

Xi Mo: “…”

 

 

Let go!

 

 

Either hugging or clinging—how revolting!

 

 

Xi Mo smiled and reciprocated by looping her arm through Yan Tinghuan’s. “Sure, where shall we go?”

 

 

“I just texted Tangtang, and she’s over the moon. She insists we go somewhere fancy for a high-end dinner after work tonight.” Yan Tinghuan blinked.

 

 

“Where?” Xi Mo feigned enthusiasm.

 

 

Hah, as if Feng Tangtang’s idea of “high-end” would amount to anything—at best, it’d be stir-fried squid.

 

 

Yan Tinghuan announced, “We’re having seafood.”

 

 

Xi Mo: “…”

 

 

You’ve got to be kidding me!