The Green Tea Actress Has Too Much After-Show Drama - Chapter 4

Three months prior.

After finalizing the audition date with Yuan Chengyin’s casting team, Sister Hou finally felt like she was about to achieve something significant.

Having only been in the industry for a few years, her official title was merely “Executive Manager.” Her base salary was low, and Gourd Media didn’t offer commissions, only occasional performance-based bonuses that weren’t guaranteed. With no connections or background, she had stumbled into the industry purely out of childhood dreams and a stroke of luck.

The days stretched endlessly before her. Until Yuan Chengyin’s email arrived, she had no idea how much longer she’d have to grind before making a name for herself.

Taking on Ran Long as a client finally earned her the title of “Manager,” even if it was only for Ran Long. If they could successfully secure a role in Yuan Chengyin’s production, she’d instantly skip several years of hard work.

It seemed Half-Immortal Zhou with the afro was right—Ran Long truly was her lucky star.

The savings in her emergency fund, however, were embarrassingly meager. After giving Ran Long the makeover she requested, Sister Hou would have to live on scraps until her next paycheck.

The true “survival through desperation” awaited her here.

On the day of the audition, Sister Hou donned the suit she had reverently hung in her closet, slipped into the high heels she had endured so much pain for, and meticulously applied her makeup. She gazed at herself in the mirror, scrutinizing her reflection, growing more satisfied with each glance.

Thinking back to Ran Long’s listless state in the rented apartment, she wondered which of them was the one heading to the audition today.

It wasn’t until the driver pulled into Ran Long’s residential complex that she recalled a timeless truth often whispered in the entertainment industry:

There’s an insurmountable wall between glamorous actors and ordinary commoners like herself.

A wall as steep and treacherous as a cliff face.

A tall woman stood before the dilapidated building, instantly capturing the attention of both the driver and Sister Hou.

Her long, wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders like in a shampoo commercial—smooth, lustrous, and subtly tinged with red highlights in its deep brown hue. Her radiant vitality and captivating grace were undeniable.

She wore distressed denim shorts that barely covered her thighs, revealing long, pale legs that seemed to glow with an alluring, ethereal radiance under the afternoon sun.

The late spring air still carried a slight chill. She wore a black, one-shoulder sweatshirt, its neckline revealing half of her model-like collarbones, a detail that inevitably drew lingering gazes.

Her presence clashed starkly with the weathered old residential buildings, the stench-filled garbage rooms, and the grimy stray cats and dogs that surrounded her. Passing elderly residents, with nothing better to do, stopped to stare curiously.

The driver stammered, pointing at the woman standing between two dilapidated bicycles. “Is… is that… from our company?” he asked Sister Hou.

Sister Hou squinted at the woman, her gaze sweeping up and down. “Uh… let me check?” she replied.

She lowered the car window, hesitant to speak.

Ran Long herself strode over, pointed a finger at Sister Hou’s nose, and barked, “Get out. Open the car door for me.”

Yep, that’s definitely her family’s ancestor, Sister Hou thought.

Once inside, Ran Long removed her sunglasses and, surprisingly quiet, began flipping through her script.

Sister Hou occasionally glanced at Ran Long through the rearview mirror. Her makeup was flawless, a stark contrast to her usual dark circles and gloomy style. As she studied the script, her long lashes fluttered, creating a captivating effect.

Sister Hou thought, “With such a stunning appearance, how could she be cursed with such a repulsive soul?”

If Ran Long had simply apologized and managed her image back then, that video scandal would have been forgotten long ago. She could have been landing blockbuster roles and skyrocketing to fame, instead of squatting in this dingy apartment, guarding her pathetic livestreaming setup, and begging her top-ranked viewer to send another rocket.

While there’s no shame in doing whatever it takes to make a living—Sister Hou herself toiled like a beast in her office, no more noble than Ran Long—when fate serves you a golden opportunity on a silver platter, why refuse to open your mouth and take a bite?

Sister Hou couldn’t understand it.

The audition was scheduled at Lively Motion Pictures’ office building. As they rode the elevator and walked down the corridor, they didn’t see any other actors waiting to audition.

If the building’s address hadn’t been verified, Sister Hou would have been on the phone with the police the entire time.

The audition room’s door stood wide open. As Sister Hou led Ran Long inside, she glanced around and secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

Qiu An wasn’t there.

Director Yuan Chengyin and Producer Sister Wang sat at the center, flanked by several staff members who appeared to be part of the casting team. Everyone was unfamiliar to Yu Houjie except for one strikingly beautiful woman who looked vaguely familiar.

Distracted by Ran Long’s flamboyant appearance for so long, Yu Houjie suddenly realized as they entered the audition room: was Ran Long’s assigned role even suited for her image?

No.

Yu Houjie’s sharp eyes caught Yuan Chengyin’s expression after sizing up Ran Long’s hot pants and red hair—a mixture of confusion and skepticism.

After exchanging pleasantries, Yu Houjie took Ran Long’s sunglasses and handbag, positioning herself behind the familiar-looking beauty. Watching Ran Long take her place opposite them, she suddenly felt a surge of nervousness.

Trust your training, she told herself. She’s a classically trained actress, after all. She even boasted, “There’s no way I won’t get the part!”

“Xiao Ran, it’s been a while,” Yuan Chengyin greeted calmly, his voice surprisingly gentle and approachable, unlike the sharp tone Yu Houjie had expected.

Ran Long tilted her head, nostrils flaring at Yuan Chengyin. “Why are you acting like we’re close? Don’t make it sound like I’m here because of connections. Just get on with the audition.”

Sister Hou couldn’t believe her ears. It turned out Ran Long wasn’t just a bully in her own backyard; she was just as arrogant in public. Give her a chaotic mess, and she’d probably carve out her own little empire.

How can someone be this brazen? Sister Hou wondered, especially since Ran Long had only gotten this audition through connections.

Is it courage or shamelessness? Sister Hou couldn’t tell.

The others present, clearly inexperienced, turned pale at Ran Long’s words, not daring to utter a sound. The room fell silent for what felt like two minutes, broken only by the sharp click of Sister Hou’s heels as she took a step back.

I don’t know her, Sister Hou desperately wanted to say. I don’t know this person.

“Right…” Yuan Chengyin finally recovered his composure after a long pause. “Let’s skip the formalities and get straight to it. Xiao Ran, for now, we’ll call your character ‘Corporate Slave.’ The first scene is: you’re accompanying a colleague to an art exhibition. There, you see a painting with curves that strikingly resemble your own, instantly recognizing the artist as the ‘Painter’ from your past. Overwhelmed with mixed emotions, you turn around and come face-to-face with this long-lost acquaintance…”

“Alright, Master, stop reciting! Does anyone here not know the script? No one, right?” Ran Long impatiently rolled up her sleeves.

Yuan Chengyin sighed softly and conceded, “Fine. Start whenever you’re ready. There’s a camera to your left—treat that as the canvas.”

Ran Long turned to her left.

Finally, it’s about to begin, Sister Hou thought, holding her breath in anticipation. Just then, the woman beside her glanced back, giving her a fleeting look.

Is she someone I know? Sister Hou studied her face and figure, convinced she’d seen her somewhere before.

As she pondered, the door behind Ran Long opened, and a woman in black trousers and a rust-red blouse strode in with graceful steps.

Sister Hou’s heart leaped to her throat. She instantly recognized the familiar face before her—it was Qiu An’s assistant!

Ran Long stared at the “canvas” for a long moment, then let out a low chuckle. “Hmph, intriguing.”

Yuan Chengyin frowned, his eyes wide with disbelief as he glared at Ran Long.

Not only had she added her own lines, but she’d inserted a completely nonsensical one.

Ran Long was playing a corporate drone—an introverted office worker who navigated her monotonous routine with practiced efficiency, yet remained deeply adrift and disillusioned.

“It’s nothing, girl boss,” Ran Long said dismissively.

“Tch,” she scoffed.

After a moment of tense silence, Ran Long whipped her head around, her long hair sweeping through the air like a whip, nearly striking the person behind her.

Yuan Chengyin raised a hand, wanting to speak but hesitating.

Recognizing the newcomer, Ran Long suddenly pointed a finger and roared with full force, “Holy sh1t! You scared the hell out of me! What are you doing here?”

What the hell is going on?

Yuan Chengyin pressed a hand to her forehead, feeling all her energy drain away. She said weakly, “Stop, just stop for a moment.”

Ran Long remained frozen in her accusatory pose, while Qiu An, who had been pointed at, stood stunned for a moment before crossing her arms, covering her mouth with one hand, and laughing.

“What are you laughing at? What’s so funny?!” Ran Long bristled.

Qiu An composed herself, lowering her gaze apologetically. “I’m sorry…”

“Qiu An!” Ran Long interrupted. “Yuan Chengyin! I knew you two loved pulling shady tricks, but this is beyond shady! I’ve known all along that the Painter role was already promised to Qiu An, but you still made me audition! Shouldn’t you have told me beforehand who I’d be acting with? Huh? Are you playing me? Do you even know how to spell ‘respect’?”

The staff members present shifted uneasily, feeling as if their seats were on fire. Director Yuan was known for his kindness and consideration, and this was the first time they had ever heard someone speak to him so rudely to his face. The atmosphere grew tense.

Yuan Chengyin, subjected to Ran Long’s tirade, felt his face burning with embarrassment. He didn’t know how to respond.

Sister Hou scratched her head, about to offer Qiu An’s assistant an apologetic smile, when Ran Long snapped, “Sister Hou! What are you doing?! It’s not our fault! Don’t bow down to them!”

Sister Hou froze, stunned. Under the collective gaze of the casting team, she had never felt her scalp so conspicuously present.

Ah, so this actually involves me?

“Xiao Ran,” Qiu An called out gently. The crowd’s attention finally shifted back to her voice, and Sister Hou mentally kowtowed to Qiu An a hundred times.

“Xiao Ran, I’m sorry. This was my idea. I didn’t consider your feelings properly. It was thoughtless of me. I apologize. Let’s start over.”

Ran Long rolled her eyes, turned her back, and muttered, “Playing innocent again. The green tea act is back. She’s cursing me in her heart, just waiting for me to embarrass myself in public. This whole thing is a trap.”

Though her voice wasn’t loud, Ran Long’s training as an actress shone through in her clear and resonant delivery.

Sister Hou, standing at the back of the room, heard every word perfectly.

Is this a workplace injury? Gourd Media owes me some compensation for emotional distress.

Qiu An remained unfazed, responding with a simple smile that made Ran Long seem like a petulant child throwing a tantrum.

After several more attempts, Ran Long gradually calmed down, but the performance still fell short of Yuan Chengyin’s expectations.

“Forget about your reaction to the painting for now,” Yuan Chengyin said. “When you turn and see the Painter, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Ran Long: “Well, I have.”

Yuan Chengyin: “……”

Qiu An: “No problem. Let’s try again.”

They repeated the scene countless times, until Sister Hou’s feet ached.

While Qiu An remained patient, Yuan Chengyin finally cracked. He gripped his pen so tightly he nearly snapped it in half. “Alright, let’s move on,” he said. “We’ll switch to the next scene.”

In the second scene, the office worker encounters the Painter’s husband and child at the exhibition, her thoughts spiraling into chaos. Losing all interest in the art, she slips away from her colleagues and retreats to the restroom, only to find the Painter waiting for her.

“Why are you still painting those things?”

“That kind of thing?” The Painter swayed, tilting his head as he gazed leisurely at Ran Long.

“Don’t play coy,” Ran Long said, shifting uncomfortably.

Yuan Chengyin chewed on his fingernails.

“Oh, that painting? Isn’t the theme of this exhibition ‘Form and Beauty’?” The Painter leaned closer, whispering in Ran Long’s ear, “The body I know best is still yours.”

Ran Long shifted uncomfortably.

Yuan Chengyin chewed on his fingernails.

The Painter placed his hand on Ran Long’s hip, murmuring, “What do you think? I captured your form quite well, don’t you agree? It bears a striking resemblance to your figure back then.”

Ran Long shifted uncomfortably…

Yuan Chengyin bit off a piece of his nail. “Stop, stop, stop! Ran Long, where’s our sense of disgust? Our shame? All I see is your annoyance. Are you going to hit him?”

Ran Long: “Yes, I want to hit him.”

Yuan Chengyin: “……”

Qiu An: “It’s fine. Let’s try again.”

This is tough, Yuan Chengyin thought. Being a director isn’t as glamorous as it looks.