My Ex’s White Moonlight Omega Has a Crush on Me - Chapter 31.1

Cheng Lou clapped her hands lightly. “Very good.”

Chao Wan hadn’t yet shaken off the emotions from her performance. Hearing the applause, she looked up dazedly.

Suddenly, she realized not only Cheng Lou but even Ruan Rou were studying her intently.

Her heart raced. Flustered, Chao Wan lowered her gaze and stood up.

She didn’t dare look at Ji Tanyue’s expression, knowing her performance had been lacking and still haunted by last night’s failed rehearsal. Deliberately avoiding eye contact, she wiped her tears and bowed deeply in gratitude.

After the audition, Ji Tanyue would be discussing film preparations here. Chao Wan couldn’t overstay her welcome.

Just as she moved toward the bench to collect her belongings and leave, someone called from behind.

“Chao Wan.” Cheng Lou had been reviewing the footage for a while, her brow slightly furrowed. “I want to remind you of something.”

“If your performance is limited to what you just showed, it’s not enough for me to choose you over Jiang Tang.”

Chao Wan hung her head low, voice soft. “I’m sorry.”

A sour ache spread through her chest.

She really was just a pretty face. Despite spending over ten hours refining her acting yesterday, she still couldn’t deliver when it mattered.

“So, I’m giving you another chance,” Cheng Lou continued.

Chao Wan’s lips parted slightly.

In her moment of confusion, the studio door opened again.

Jiang Tang returned with her bag, phone displaying Cheng Lou’s recent notification. “Sorry to interrupt. Do we need second auditions?”

Cheng Lou nodded, glancing at Ruan Rou and Ji Tanyue beside her. “Is that alright?”

Ruan Rou smiled. “Of course.”

Ji Tanyue gave a slight nod, her gaze sweeping over Chao Wan’s unsettled expression before curving into a faint smile.

“Director Cheng…” Chao Wan bit her lip. “Isn’t Ying just a minor role with five scenes?”

Cheng Lou’s strict standards were industry legend, but even insignificant supporting roles required second auditions?

“I never said Ying was a supporting character.” Cheng Lou flipped through the script. “Moon Over West River is an ensemble piece. Except for Li Xichuan, everyone exists in relation to others.”

She glanced at Ji Tanyue, adding casually, “Even Han Yun fits this description. So, Chao Wan, no need to be nervous.”

Ji Tanyue’s smile remained unchanged.

Chao Wan stole a look at the woman, secretly clutching her clothes as she murmured, “Okay.”

The second audition would be improvisational without scripts. Cheng Lou seemed to have noticed something during their first attempts and wanted to explore the chemistry between Ying and the protagonist further.

“Remember the scene before Ying’s first kill?” She briefed Jiang Tang and Chao Wan. “Shortly after entering the Grand Princess’ residence, Ying actually considers betrayal, attempting to assassinate Han Yun.”

Cheng Lou looked at Ji Tanyue. “I want you to perform the contrast before and after the failed assassination, plus the scene where Han Yun discovers the plot.”

Jiang Tang thought for a moment. “I’ll choose pre-assassination.”

Playing outwardly loyal while secretly plotting against Han Yun under manipulation, this scene best highlighted Ying’s duality and played to her strengths.

Left with no choice, Chao Wan replied softly, “Then I’ll take post-assassination.”

After the failed attempt, imprisoned in the water dungeon by Han Yun, how to portray the emotional progression would require more thought.

Jiang Tang went first again.

By day, she received orders at Han Yun’s bedside to guard the courtyard. By night, swayed by so-called righteous factions at court, she infiltrated the chambers to assassinate.

Ruan Rou made a cameo as the righteous faction member, assigning Jiang Tang the mission to kill Han Yun.

The audition venue had a specially set up bed, where Jiang Tang and Ji Tanyue would later perform the assassination scene.

The assassination failed. Amid the conflict, a dagger was already pressed against the side of her neck.

“Your Majesty, I… I…” Jiang Tang exchanged a glance with Ji Tanyue, her entire body rigid, only her lips trembling slightly.

Cheng Lou frowned slightly.

The delivery of the lines felt a bit off.

She glanced at the woman on the bed, who seemed to understand instantly and sighed silently.

Why not hold back a little? That kind of oppressive presence, who could withstand it?

Ji Tanyue knelt on the bed, her pale fingers gripping the short blade tightly.

Beneath the disheveled strands of hair, she was smiling.

Yet her eyes were tinged with bloodshot streaks, terrifyingly intense, and the curve of her lips was cold and mocking.

In the script, Han Yun had a strikingly beautiful face, but her lips were sickly pale.

The contrast was stark.

Just like how, after years of lying low, her ruthless ambition lay hidden beneath a gentle facade.

The Empress Dowager was dead, and the eldest princess was now the most esteemed woman in Dayun.

By day, she was gentle and courteous, respected and admired by all in the palace. By night, she was paranoid and obsessive, a scheming ghost desperate to seize power.

Chao Wan’s heart tightened.

Though the dagger wasn’t pressed against her neck, she felt a chilling fear that made her heart race.

No wonder Jiang Tang’s delivery had been somewhat shaky earlier. Even during last night’s rehearsal, Chao Wan had never seen Ji Tanyue like this.

The plot gradually progressed.

Ji Tanyue moved closer to Jiang Tang, an oppressive silence spreading between them.

They were so close their noses almost touched.

Watching this scene, Chao Wan felt a faint sense of loss.

If the audition failed and the role went to Jiang Tang, would Ji Tanyue remain this intimate with her throughout the filming?

Even if it was just for the sake of the drama…

Her heart sank, though she couldn’t quite explain why.

As she pondered, Jiang Tang’s audition came to an end.

“Thank you for your hard work,” Ji Tanyue nodded, rising from the bed with a polite smile.

“You too, Senior Ji,” Jiang Tang replied, her face still pale with sweat, seemingly not yet recovered.

Ji Tanyue greeted the people around her and walked toward where Chao Wan was sitting. She took a seat on the bench and sipped some water.

For no reason, Chao Wan felt uneasy.

“Your turn,” Cheng Lou waved her over.

Ji Tanyue returned to the bed, sat down, bowed her head, quietly flipped through a few pages of the script, thought for a moment, and then set it aside.

Chao Wan walked over nervously and asked Cheng Lou, “Director, is the water dungeon scene… also being performed here?”

At the very least, she should be standing, right?

“That part has been changed,” Cheng Lou replied. “Haven’t you read the new script? The scene is still inside the palace.”

“?” Chao Wan was confused.

She looked to Ji Tanyue for help but noticed the woman’s lips curling slightly, saying nothing.

She had no idea where the plot was heading now.

This was truly an improvisational audition.

Chao Wan bit her lip, her heart racing.

“Alright, you may begin,” Cheng Lou started the camera.

Picking up where Jiang Tang left off, Chao Wan knelt by the bed, looked up in panic, and felt the sharp blade of a dagger pressed against her neck.

Hesitantly, she slowly raised her eyes to meet the gaze of the woman whose assassination attempt had just failed.

Unexpectedly, the oppressive aura around Ji Tanyue had softened slightly, not as intense as before.

Her eyes were downcast, and in those brief seconds, she reined in all the fury and hatred within them.

A faint, almost imperceptible mist seemed to swirl in those phoenix eyes.

Chao Wan was momentarily stunned.