After Becoming a Scummy Alpha, I Was Spoiled by a Sweet Omega - Chapter 57

Ning Xuan waited for a while. When she saw no reply, she sent another voice message: “Did you listen to it yet?”

Yu Yazhi responded: [Mm. I’ll listen now.]

“After you finish, check the comments section. The lyrics are said to tell a ghost marriage love story, there are three versions. Tell me which one you agree with.”

[Alright.]

Yu Yazhi felt herself being dragged into Ning Xuan’s boredom.

Ning Xuan got into the car.

Luo Yuanyuan drove her back to the apartment.

Once they arrived, Luo Yuanyuan went to the supermarket, bought groceries, and cooked dinner for her.

Ning Xuan helped wash the vegetables, then invited her to stay and eat together.

After dinner, Luo Yuanyuan said goodbye and left.

Ning Xuan waved her off at the door, then tidied her bedroom, laid out the bed, and spread a yoga mat on the floor to practice the martial arts she had learned.

Half an hour later, drenched in sweat, she showered.

Afterward, she applied lotion, lay down on the bed, and played on her phone.

On WeChat

Yu Yazhi sent a message: [I listened to that song.]

Ning Xuan’s eyes lit up as she typed: [How did it feel? When the suona comes in—wasn’t it grand, tragic, overwhelming? Did it get stuck in your head?]

Yu Yazhi: [It was pretty good.]

Ning Xuan: [So, which version do you agree with?]

Yu Yazhi: [Wait a moment. I made an analysis report. I’ll send you the document.]

Ning Xuan: “…”

Sis, it’s just a song. No need to be this formal!

Yu Yazhi: [“Analysis of Three Versions of the Ghost Marriage Love Story” doc]

Ning Xuan felt overwhelmed: [Yazhi, this isn’t necessary.]

Yu Yazhi: [It’s fine. The lyrics are interesting. Read it and give me feedback.]

Ning Xuan sighed, complicated feelings swirling, and opened the file.

It was long.

After reading, she sat stunned for a few seconds, then sent a thumbs-up sticker.

She added: [Such patience, such detail, such analytical skill, you really are worthy of being a CEO.]

Yu Yazhi replied modestly: [I think we should praise the depth of our culture. And also, the talent in the comments section.]

Ning Xuan laughed: [Absolutely. Since ancient times, the comments section has produced geniuses.]

The atmosphere felt good, so Yu Yazhi finally asked: [About that matter, have you decided?]

Ning Xuan’s heart sank. After hesitating, she replied: [Can I think about it a little longer?]

No.

That was what Yu Yazhi thought. But after a long pause, she still replied: [Alright.]

Indeed, in love, the one who falls first is the one who loses.

She kicked at the blanket in frustration, tempted to drink again.

Breathe. Calm down.

She typed: [But how long will you think? Can you give me a deadline?]

She deleted it before sending.

Calm down. Calm down.

Love is like sand in your hand—the tighter you grip, the faster it slips away.

Yu Yazhi closed her eyes, inhaled and exhaled deeply, steadied her chest, and sat cross-legged to meditate.

The night was destined to be long.

The Next Morning

Ning Xuan woke at seven. After washing up, she made herself breakfast and waited for Luo Yuanyuan to pick her up.

Today was her audition, held at the Changyu Building.

The name alone revealed it was Yu family territory.

“Sit tight, Sister Xuan. We’re heading out,” Luo Yuanyuan reminded her, starting the engine.

Ning Xuan nodded, closed her eyes, and leaned back against the seat.

The thought of the audition made her nervous yet excited.

8:30 a.m., the car arrived at Changyu Building.

Ning Xuan got out, entered the lobby, and immediately spotted Zhu Shanshan waiting for the elevator. Knowing she loved to stir trouble, Ning Xuan whispered to Luo Yuanyuan: “That one’s always picking fights. Keep an eye on her. If she causes trouble, record it.”

She wanted to be prepared, ready to strike first if needed.

Luo Yuanyuan nodded quickly. “Got it, Sister Xuan. Don’t worry.”

Ning Xuan waited until Zhu Shanshan entered one elevator, then deliberately took another.

The audition was on the seventh floor, scheduled for nine o’clock.

The waiting area was already packed.

A sea of people filled the space, noisy like a marketplace.

Screenwriter Xu Ci handed out portions of the audition script.

The scripts were distributed randomly.

Ning Xuan received hers.

It was her first time seeing it and she also learned the film’s title: The Nightingale and the Rose. It reminded her of Oscar Wilde’s fairy tale.

“This is your number.”

Xu Ci handed her a script and a number card.

Ning Xuan quickly said: “Thank you.”

Xu Ci didn’t linger, turning to address the crowd gently: “Time is short. Everyone, prepare quickly.”

Ning Xuan looked at her card—Number 17. Based on the order, her turn would come in about two hours.

Plenty of time.

She found a quiet corner and began studying her script. It was a scene between the second female lead and the heroine.

Reading the synopsis, she realized The Nightingale and the Rose was no ordinary war film. It used small, personal love stories to reflect national sentiment.

The second female lead was He Suizi, daughter of a Japanese officer stationed in China, married to a businessman—none other than the male lead, Cheng Zhaoqing.

Cheng Zhaoqing seemed opportunistic, marrying the daughter of a Japanese official to gain favor. But in truth, he was a member of a secret underground resistance group, providing them with vital intelligence.

Before joining the resistance, he had a romance with the heroine, Chen Xiangying.

Chen Xiangying was a stunning beauty. At seven, her own brother sold her into a brothel. By thirteen, her innocence was gone, and she became one of Shanghai’s most famous courtesans.

She met Cheng Zhaoqing in the brothel, fell in love there, and left the life behind to marry him. But in the end, he abandoned her coldly for the sake of the nation.

In chaotic times, small people were always the ones sacrificed.

Especially a fragile woman.

Chen Xiangying became pregnant, but the child she risked her life to bear soon died of illness.

She returned once more to Shanghai. Her cold, world-weary aura again made her the courtesan everyone admired and pursued.

But one day—the true beginning of the story, a man claiming to be a member of the Z organization approached her, asking her to return to Cheng Zhaoqing’s side as a spy.

In reality, he was an imposter: a Japanese officer who suspected Cheng Zhaoqing of being a double agent. He sent Chen Xiangying to test him.

Unaware of the truth, Chen Xiangying, filled with resentment, drew close to Cheng Zhaoqing.

Out of guilt and lingering love, Cheng Zhaoqing began secretly keeping her.

But he was married.

His wife, He Suizi, noticed his strange behavior and confronted her.

Thus unfolded a scene of the “official wife” facing the mistress—a cliché, melodramatic setup. Yet precisely because it was so melodramatic, making it compelling on stage would be difficult.

Ning Xuan read the character introductions and relationships three times, then focused on He Suizi’s profile. She guessed He Suizi was the “rose” in the film’s title.

The rose was fiery and passionate.

She loved and hated boldly, dazzling and radiant. Facing the heroine—the mistress—she was proud and disdainful. Yet she was still young, raised in privilege, her gaze unworldly, even tinged with innocence.

So, when she looked at the mistress, her eyes carried contradiction.

That contradiction was the true test of acting skill.

“Swish.”

The script in her hands was suddenly snatched away.

Deep in analysis, Ning Xuan looked up to see Zhu Shanshan, her expression hostile.

Zhu Shanshan was number 16, just before Ning Xuan. She had plenty of time, and after glancing at the script, she felt the role of the proud young lady was tailor-made for her. That gave her confidence, even arrogance.

But seeing Ning Xuan study so diligently gave her pressure.

Like a bad student who doesn’t want to learn and doesn’t want others to learn either, she strode forward, seized Ning Xuan’s script, and sneered: “So hardworking, huh? Too bad, no matter how hard you try, you won’t make it.”

Ning Xuan truly didn’t want to engage. She suppressed her anger, face cold, hand outstretched, voice low: “Miss Zhu Shanshan, please return my script.”

Of course, Zhu Shanshan didn’t comply. She flipped through it casually, then pretended to drop it. Immediately, she stomped on it, grinding her heel down several times before covering her mouth in mock surprise: “Oh dear, sorry, sorry.”

Her acting was painfully bad.

Ning Xuan clenched her fists in fury.

Since learning martial arts, her temper had grown more fiery. If she could act, she didn’t want to waste words.

So, she grabbed Zhu Shanshan’s hair, forced her head down, and pressed her to her knees. “Pick up my script.”

“Let me go! What are you doing? Help!”

Zhu Shanshan struggled and screamed: “She’s hitting me! Ning Xuan is hitting me!”

Instantly, all eyes turned toward them.

Someone even raised a phone, muttering: “Whoa, breaking news—at the audition, Ning Xuan attacked her rival Zhu Shanshan!”

Ning Xuan knew Zhu Shanshan wanted nothing more than to play the victim and trend online.

But she wasn’t afraid. She didn’t let go. Instead, she pressed her head down and asked Luo Yuanyuan: “Did you record everything just now?”

Luo Yuanyuan, filming with her phone, nodded quickly: “Sister Xuan, don’t worry, I got it all.”

The crowd was stunned. What’s going on? Filming herself beating someone up?

Zhu Shanshan froze too, forgetting to scream, staring at Ning Xuan warily. “What, what do you mean?”

Ning Xuan ignored her, looked into Luo Yuanyuan’s camera, waved with a smile, but spoke coldly: “Hello everyone, I’m Ning Xuan. Yes, I hit Zhu Shanshan today because she deserved it.

As for why, to prevent rumors or maliciously edited clips, I’ll show you the full version.”

She released Zhu Shanshan’s head, walked to Luo Yuanyuan, and took the phone.

The video clearly showed Zhu Shanshan provoking her and stomping on her script.

Zhu Shanshan realized too late, lunging to snatch the phone. “Delete it! Ning Xuan, this violates my portrait rights!”

Ning Xuan dodged, holding the phone high. “When I came to audition, I guessed you’d cause trouble. And you didn’t disappoint—again and again. I don’t even know what I did to offend you, but I don’t care anymore. Since you won’t leave me alone, I won’t leave you alone.”

That was why, upon seeing Zhu Shanshan in the lobby, she had told Luo Yuanyuan to record if anything happened.

It was a lesson she had learned from Yu Yazhi: with video comes truth.

Strike first.

Luo Yuanyuan, ever meticulous, had filmed the entire process in high definition.

The footage captured Zhu Shanshan’s arrogant, ugly behavior perfectly.

“Delete it! Ning Xuan, delete it!”

Zhu Shanshan panicked. She hadn’t expected Ning Xuan to prepare in advance. Her face flushed red. “We, we can talk this out. Ning Xuan, I just, just—”

She bit her lip, unable to explain her actions. She had simply disliked her and wanted to stir trouble.

But now? With the role at stake, she couldn’t afford scandal.

Damn Ning Xuan, she had set a trap!

Ning Xuan shook her head, smiling with contempt. “I’ve given you too many chances. I don’t know why you think I’m easy to bully.”

She lowered her head, began editing the video, planning to place her statement at the beginning, then upload the full clip to Weibo.

Right and wrong, let the public judge.

She trusted the public’s eyes.

“Ning Xuan, you misunderstood.”

Zhu Shanshan scrambled for excuses, speaking earnestly: “What I said just now was part of the script. I was practicing lines, sorry for not telling you first. I even used you to rehearse. I’m sorry and I stepped on your script too.”

She grabbed Ning Xuan’s hand, tears spilling, pleading: “I was wrong. Don’t misunderstand me. If you don’t want me to audition, I won’t. I’ll leave now. I’ll give you the role, alright?”

She was trying to paint Ning Xuan as maliciously driving out a competitor, crying to divert attention.

Ning Xuan saw through her ploy instantly and laughed. “You said you’d give me the role? Haha. That shows how confident you are. Good. I admire confidence. So, Miss Zhu Shanshan, let’s livestream the audition.”

Zhu Shanshan instinctively wanted to refuse.

But then she thought: Ning Xuan had never acted, never filmed. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t match her.

Though a small voice whispered: What if she has talent?

“Fine.”

She agreed proudly. “Livestream the audition then. Just don’t regret it when you embarrass yourself.”

At that moment, the audition room door opened. A candidate walked out, face gloomy. From inside came the call: “Number 16, Miss Zhu Shanshan, please come in.”

Zhu Shanshan quickly raised her hand. “Coming.”

She shot Ning Xuan a provocative look. “So, how will you livestream the audition?”

Ning Xuan strode toward the room. “We’ll ask Director He.”

Zhu Shanshan frowned and followed her inside.

Inside the Audition Room

He Sheng was reviewing Zhu Shanshan’s file when he heard footsteps. Looking up, he saw the two women enter.

“What’s going on? One at a time. Don’t you know basic rules?”