I Rely on My Versatility to Reach the Top of the Entertainment Industry [Ancient Times to Modern] - Chapter 22 (Part 2)

“Don’t you dare go easy on him.” Gu Guochang’s face, marked by pronounced nasolabial folds, showed a hint of mischief. “Even if you want to sign Jing Yi to Galaxy, you can’t hold back.”

“Director Gu, you jest. The phrase ‘going easy’ isn’t in my dictionary.” A touch of coldness tinged Lu Yuzhi’s amber eyes.

If Jing Yi truly couldn’t portray Xie Qiyun well, he would have to be eliminated. This had nothing to do with Lu Yuzhi’s personal feelings toward Jing Yi; it was purely out of respect for the acting profession.

The audition venue had long been set up. Since it wasn’t an actual filming location, and Gu Guochang had a penchant for quirky antics during auditions, the “tombstone” on set was actually a staff member with the word “tombstone” pasted on her—a young woman, no less.

Everything was ready, and by 8:30, the audition officially began.

As the audition scene had been announced in advance, many candidates arrived sneakily in full period costume, dressed in ancient-style attire.

Lu Yuzhi recognized many familiar young faces.

“What are they thinking? Why are they all imitating that old movie from 45 years ago?” After auditioning several recent rising stars in the film and TV industry, Gu Guochang couldn’t help but complain to Lu Yuzhi.

Lu Yuzhi replied gravely, “No matter what they’re thinking, such performances aren’t up to par.”

Most auditionees wore flowing white ancient robes as described in the novel. However, when caressing the “tombstone,” their eyes showed little emotional variation. Some even laughed because the “tombstone” was a woman sitting on a small stool.

Lu Yuzhi was growing weary of watching.

It wasn’t until Ji Lin, a young actor dressed in sleek ancient attire with a flute tucked at his waist, entered that Lu Yuzhi showed a flicker of interest.

Ji Lin was a newcomer signed by Lu Yuzhi’s former agency, Time Media. His demeanor was steady and efficient, and his personality was serious and reserved. Last year, he won a domestic Golden Eagle Award for a fantasy period drama.

“The next one after this is your young man.” Gu Guochang couldn’t resist teasing Lu Yuzhi again. “Looking forward to it?”

“Director Gu.” Lu Yuzhi was helpless against Gu Guochang’s playful jabs.

On set, Ji Lin had already walked to the central “tombstone.”

After the cue to begin, Ji Lin lowered his eyelashes, exuding sorrow. A faint smile touched his lips as he caressed the “tombstone” with one hand and reached for the flute at his waist with the other.

“Old friend, before we part, let me play one last tune for you.”

His voice slightly hoarse, Ji Lin raised the flute and played a mournful melody.

After finishing, he gently patted the tombstone, turned, and strode away without looking back.

Gu Guochang’s eyes lit up. “This kid is good. He has his own interpretation and even showcased a talent, which fits Xie Qiyun’s character.”

Moreover, his exit from the venue as if still in character left a strong impression.

As Ji Lin stepped into the corridor, he ran straight into Jing Yi. Recently, Jing Yi’s name had been trending online, so Ji Lin couldn’t help but stop and stare at him.

Jing Yi, who had been looking straight ahead, noticed the gaze and halted his step toward the right. He met Ji Lin’s eyes, retracted his foot, pressed his palms together, and bowed slightly in greeting.

Ji Lin frowned, puzzled by Jing Yi’s gesture.

They passed each other, and Jing Yi entered the venue at the staff’s call.

Having grown accustomed to auditionees in period costumes, the staff couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of Jing Yi in modern attire, his hair styled as if freshly done.

Jing Yi now stood at the center of the venue.

“Good morning everyone, I’m Jing Yi, here to audition for the role of Xie Qiyun.”

After his greeting, at the “beginning” command, Jing Yi closed his eyes and reopened them.

Lu Yuzhi was the first to notice the change in Jing Yi.

Without eye makeup to alter their shape, Jing Yi’s naturally round eyes now appeared slightly narrowed. His typically clear and transparent gaze now revealed… confusion.

Yes, it was confusion.

Gu Guochang also noticed the shift in Jing Yi’s expression, his brows immediately furrowing.

On camera, Jing Yi lowered his lashes, a smile gradually spreading across his lips.

But unlike Ji Lin, his smile carried both sorrow and a touch of self-mockery.

When he looked up again, Jing Yi retrieved a small object from his waist and brought it to his mouth to play.

It was a xun!

Gu Guochang’s eyes widened in surprise.

Could he actually play it?

Just as Gu Guochang wondered this, a cheerful melody emerged from the center of the venue.

The xun, an ancient instrument known for its profound and mournful tones, traditionally played sorrowful pieces passed down through generations.

Hearing this ancient instrument produce such a joyful tune initially felt baffling. But after listening for a while, combining the melody with the performer’s vacant eyes created an atmosphere of profound desolation.

When the piece concluded, Jing Yi lowered his gaze again, the smile at his lips becoming slightly more relaxed.

“See, the xun can actually play happy tunes too. Do you like it? Old friend.”

After delivering this line with feigned cheerfulness, Jing Yi stroked the tombstone and closed his eyes briefly. Standing straight again, he turned, tossed the xun high into the air, and walked away leisurely, humming an unknown tune.

Reaching the doorway, Jing Yi turned back and said formally, “My performance is over, thank you everyone.”

Gu Guochang immediately snapped out of the previous scene, feeling both amused and exasperated.

When Jing Yi spoke like that, it reminded him of attending parent-teacher conferences and watching his son perform on stage.

So childish.

As Jing Yi turned to leave, several assistant directors gathered to discuss. Lu Yuzhi remained silent until Gu Guochang proactively asked, “Xiao Lu, not going to say anything?”

“Say what?” Lu Yuzhi curved his lips. “That the youngster I’ve taken a liking to performed well?”

This remark made Gu Guochang burst into laughter.

Good, it was indeed good.

Xie Qiyun personally killed his best friend, buried him with his own hands, and erected a tombstone. The moment he saw the completed grave, that confused expression perfectly captured Xie Qiyun’s bewilderment about how they had reached this point.

The flute was originally Xie Qiyun’s instrument, yet he only carried the xun with him.

Where had the flute gone? The answer was obvious.

In the original work, Xie Qiyun complained that Yan Zihuan always played mournful music, to which Yan Zihuan replied that the xun was inherently suited only for sad melodies.

That final cheerful piece, combined with this context, was absolutely brilliant.

Using music to send off his friend’s spirit, the moment Xie Qiyun turned to leave, he remained himself – just without his flute anymore.

The act of throwing the xun emphasized this point to the audience, while also reconnecting with the charming swordsman who liked tossing peanuts while drinking.

“Jing Yi performed quite well, giving a different feeling than Ji Lin,” Gu Guochang praised. “But Xie Qiyun has more skills than just musical instruments. We’ll need to give them an additional scene together.”

Gu Guochang had the staff contact both parties, then brought out new props—a saber and a sword.

The saber was handed to Lu Yuzhi.

“Please help us portray Yan Zihuan, our esteemed actor Lu,” Gu Guochang said with a somewhat cheeky smile.

Lu Yuzhi took the saber and walked to the center of the arena, practicing a few moves.

Fortunately, he was dressed casually today, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to move freely.

Outside, the two actors were being coached by the martial arts director.

After instructing them, the martial arts director returned and sparred a few moves with Lu Yuzhi, showing him the choreography for the scene.

To maximize the effect, Gu Guochang had both actors enter the arena together.

This time, Jing Yi started first.

The prop sword wasn’t sharpened, but the material was sturdy enough.

Jing Yi and Lu Yuzhi stood facing each other. When the signal to begin was given, Lu Yuzhi’s entire demeanor instantly transformed.

Originally, Lu Yuzhi was reserved, with a handsome face often wearing a gentle smile—mature and tender. Now, his eyes brimmed with wild, imposing intensity, much like the saber in his hand.

Perhaps it should be said that Lu Yuzhi had become Yan Zihuan.

He sneered mockingly, “What’s wrong? Does the self-proclaimed righteous Xie Qiyun now find himself unable to wield his sword?”

There was no response to this remark.

Gu Guochang watched “Xie Qiyun” through the camera lens.

Faced with an old friend who admitted to everything and even taunted him, Xie Qiyun was still in disbelief, even somewhat flustered. His hands gripped the sword tightly, his brow furrowed deeply.

Xie Qiyun certainly didn’t want to kill Yan Zihuan, yet he had no choice.

In the end, it was Yan Zihuan who struck first.

His opening move was a killing blow!

Xie Qiyun dodged frantically, using his still-sheathed weapon to block when he couldn’t avoid the attacks.

Yan Zihuan continued to mock and speak, even describing the scene of that woman’s death.

Xie Qiyun was wounded.

Through the camera, Gu Guochang watched Jing Yi stagger and thought this young man was truly gifted.

The flips and twists while evading, the distraction caused by the other’s harsh words, and the subtle twitch of facial muscles when finally resolving to act.

“Yan! Zi! Huan!” Xie Qiyun’s cry echoed across the arena, and with it, his eyes took on the sharp, cold gleam of his sword.

Saber and sword clashed, their faint sounds reverberating in the quiet audition space.

Both actors, fully immersed in their roles, breathed heavily, their eyes filled with the determination to kill one another.

Until Yan Zihuan’s chest was pierced by the move “Returning Clouds and Flowing Light.”

The original novel described this technique: Xie Qiyun leaped into the air, seemingly evading the opponent’s attack, but his wrist twisted, transferring the sword from his right hand to his left. As he flourished the blade, the tip aimed straight for the enemy’s heart.

Such a difficult move, and Jing Yi actually executed it!

He truly leaped into the air, switched the sword from his right to left hand, and upon landing, struck Lu Yuzhi’s chest.

Gu Guochang’s jaw dropped in astonishment. He nearly cheered but remembered it was an audition and held back, continuing to watch through the lens.

Yan Zihuan’s martial skills were also formidable, but as his saber was about to slash Xie Qiyun’s neck, he flipped it to use the blunt side.

He was willing to die at the hands of his closest friend.

Lu Yuzhi’s saber fell from his grasp, while Jing Yi stepped forward, catching Lu Yuzhi’s body in advance.

Lu Yuzhi had been deeply immersed in the role, but upon seeing the tears glistening in Jing Yi’s eyes, he felt an inexplicable pang of heartache.

He used their positioning to conceal this unusual emotion, only relaxing when he heard Gu Guochang’s applause, then stood up.

The staff in the venue, belatedly realizing what had happened, also began to applaud.

Lu Yuzhi, originally trained in action scenes, wielded his blade with fierce precision, his movements clean and decisive. But Jing Yi, a newcomer, was not far behind—his swordplay was agile and fluid, complemented by challenging leaps and spins, making him seem like a true swordsman.

After calming his emotions, Jing Yi bowed toward Gu Guochang and said, “Thank you, everyone. My performance is over.”

Gu Guochang couldn’t help but chuckle again, glancing sideways at Ji Lin.

The young actor’s expression had turned uneasy, his eyes already betraying a hint of hesitation.

In the end, however, he stepped onto the stage to perform the action scene opposite Lu Yuzhi.

Throughout the performance, Ji Lin did reasonably well, but his portrayal still lacked a certain flair. What’s more, during a rapid directional change, he seemed to twist his ankle.

Gu Guochang was wary of such issues—he disliked using stunt doubles in his films, especially for a production under the National Film Network.

The previous actor cast as Xie Qiyun had to suspend filming due to an injury from wirework.

As Gu Guochang was about to inform Ji Lin of the audition result, Ji Lin stood with his head bowed before Lu Yuzhi and said obediently, “Senior, please point out my shortcomings and the gap between Jing Yi and me.”