Never Forget - Chapter 2

Ke Shu had other matters to attend to. She ended the call with a quick, “We’ll discuss the details when you come to the office this afternoon.”

Ye Zhuyi lowered her phone from her ear, leaning back against the headboard. Her long eyelashes trembled slightly with each deep breath.

She patted her face, trying to calm her racing heart.

It’s just an audition, she told herself. Nothing’s finalized yet. Why am I so excited?

As she thought it over, a flicker of doubt crossed her mind.

Not much information had been released about Jing Que yet, but every detail that leaked had sparked a massive wave of excitement. The production had hired top-tier costume and prop design teams. Gold-medal screenwriter Zhou Wen and renowned director Lu Buping were reuniting for the first time in four years. The production team was, by all accounts, world-class.

Director Lu Buping, in particular, had been a force to be reckoned with over the past two years, sweeping awards both domestically and internationally. She was a master of character-driven cinema, using light and shadow to bring out the depths of a person’s personality. Even an actor with a wooden face could be transformed into a powerhouse performer in her films. Every one of her projects became an overnight sensation, and every actor in the country dreamed of working with her, even if only for a minor role.

Because of this, when casting within the industry, countless actors vied for a spot in Lu Buping‘s crew. To protect the film’s reputation and box office potential, investors would typically discard any resumes from actors below the second tier. Only those who brought their own funding or a certain level of popularity were even considered for supporting roles.

In such a crew, with her current experience and status, there was no way she could have even landed an audition for the Female Second Lead, let alone the part itself. She might have had a better chance playing a foot servant.

Her doubts didn’t last long.

At one o’clock in the afternoon, Xiao Qiao arrived on schedule to pick up Ye Zhuyi and drive her to the Xingyao Entertainment Company headquarters.

Taking the elevator from the underground parking lot straight to the upper floors, Xiao Qiao stopped in front of the lounge. Ye Zhuyi entered Ke Shu’s office alone.

After a single knock, Ke Shu’s voice came from inside: “Come in.”

Ye Zhuyi pushed the door open. “Sister Ke.”

“You’re here.” Ke Shu was sitting on the sofa with her laptop. She glanced at Ye Zhuyi, set the computer on the coffee table, and gestured for her to sit down. “Come over here.”

Ye Zhuyi obeyed and walked to her side, her gaze inadvertently falling on the laptop screen.

“Didn’t sleep well last night?” Ke Shu asked with concern after studying her. Ye Zhuyi wasn’t wearing any makeup, and her pale skin made the dark circles under her eyes even more prominent when she lacked sleep.

Ye Zhuyi withdrew her gaze impassively, her lips curving into a faint smile. “I’ve been on set for so long that I’m not used to being home.”

Hearing this, Ke Shu couldn’t help but chuckle. She sat down beside Ye Zhuyi, leaning forward. The necklace on her fair, slender swan-like neck swayed in the air.

It was a heart-shaped pendant made of an ordinary material, one Ye Zhuyi always wore when not filming. Ke Shu had once seen her open the heart but had never seen what was inside.

Ye Zhuyi tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and asked softly, “Is there anything special I need to be mindful of for the audition the day after tomorrow?”

“Yes, we need to be there by 10 AM. The earlier we arrive, the sooner we can draw lots. The production is based in Shencheng, so I’ll accompany you there.” Ke Shu poured her a glass of water and continued, “Although it’s a small-scale casting within the industry, the director is Lu Buping, and the Female Second Lead is a crucial role. There will definitely be many actors auditioning for it, so we’ll likely have to wait a long time. Make sure you get plenty of rest and stay in good condition these next two days.”

Ye Zhuyi nodded and took the glass of water Ke Shu handed her, holding it without drinking. Since Lu Buping had been mentioned, she brought up her earlier question: “I’ve heard that Director Lu Buping rarely uses actors below the second tier, unless it’s for a minor role.”

After a moment of silence, Ke Shu softened her tone and said as naturally as possible, “Actually, the role I initially submitted your resume for wasn’t the Female Second Lead. It was just a minor supporting role, but… you were rejected. However…”

So that’s why Ke Shu said she didn’t have any arrangements for me when I saw her last night.

Ye Zhuyi’s heart sank. She watched as Ke Shu turned the laptop toward her, her gaze fixing on the screen. There, under a lollipop avatar, was the username: Zhenzhen, Did You Counterattack Today?

She had just changed to this nickname yesterday. She had been editing videos for a long time, starting with just Qin Zhizhen. But after watching Cold Night and seeing the CP (couple pairing) of Qin Zhizhen and Sui Xuan, she felt inexplicably uncomfortable. That was when she began editing plot videos of herself and Qin Zhizhen.

On an impulse yesterday, she had changed her name. She never expected that just by riding on Qin Zhizhen’s popularity, it would go viral today.

Could it really be because of this?

Sure enough, Ke Shu continued, “Zhou Wen, the screenwriter for Jing Que, saw this ‘Scissors Hand’s’ video. She contacted me and said she wanted to see you audition for the Female Second Lead.”

Ye Zhuyi’s back stiffened involuntarily. Relying on her acting skills, she managed to control her expression perfectly and said with a feigned casualness, “Then I really need to thank this ‘Scissors Hand.'”

“I think it’s better not to get involved. After all, we’re just riding on Qin Zhizhen’s popularity.” Ke Shu picked up her teacup and took a sip to moisten her throat, then clicked the touchpad twice. “I’ve checked. This ‘Scissors Hand’ isn’t following anyone. Their early videos were all of Qin Zhizhen, so they’re probably one of his fans. And look, the earliest comments under their videos were Qin Zhizhen’s fans accusing you of clout-chasing. It was only after someone pointed that out that the sentiment shifted to shipping you two. The way things are now is perfect.”

“Hmm.” Ye Zhuyi pursed her lips, her lowered eyelashes concealing the darkness in her eyes.

She could roughly understand Ke Shu’s concerns. Ke Shu wasn’t sure if she could land the Female Second Lead role in one go. In this industry, walls had ears. If she failed to get the role, and the complicated process of auditioning for it was exposed, along with the connection to the “Scissors Hand,” she would inevitably be mocked for clout-chasing and using underhanded means to climb the ranks.

In this circle, cyberbullying was a silent killer.

While negative publicity could also be a form of fame, if the timing was wrong and the artist wasn’t mentally strong enough, it would only add insult to injury, or be the final straw that broke the camel’s back.

Ye Zhuyi lowered her gaze, took a sip from the water glass in her hands, and let the cool water calm the turmoil in her heart. “Is there a script excerpt for the audition?” she asked casually.

“No, I was just about to tell you,” Ke Shu said, patting her shoulder reassuringly. “To prevent the script from leaking early, the first round will be without one. You’ll have to improvise on the spot based on the director’s description. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. It’s okay even if you don’t pass; just getting your face in front of the director is a good start.”

They hadn’t even had a chance to audition before, so even with this opportunity, Ke Shu didn’t hold out much hope.

Ye Zhuyi tried to force a gentle smile, but it looked strained. Her eyes remained fixed on Qin Zhizhen’s face on the video thumbnail on the computer screen.

That face, a single touch of makeup would make it too soft, a bit more would make it look too delicate. Any more would be too heavy; any less, too pale. It was otherworldly yet not devoid of substance.

It was the face of the person she loved. The face of the person she once saw day and night.

It was the face of the person for whom she had traveled thousands of miles back to her home country, enduring a forty-eight-hour journey on a green-skinned train from distant Nancheng to Beicheng. It was the face of the person for whom she had resolutely entered the entertainment industry, competed in online variety show auditions, practiced day and night, and taken on endless acting roles, all for the chance to see him once more.

She thought it would take a long, long time before she would even be worthy of the chance to get close to Qin Zhizhen again, to be by her side once more. But suddenly, this opportunity had dropped right in front of her.

Beyond the surprise, she felt a deeper sense of apprehension. She was terrified that this chance would slip through her fingers.

Her hand, resting on her knee, shot up to grasp the necklace around her neck. Her fingers tightened slowly, the sharp edges of the pendant digging painfully into her palm. Ye Zhuyi looked up, her expression resolute. “I will get this role.”

Ke Shu shot her a surprised glance. For a moment, she thought she had misheard. In the past, this girl had been utterly nonchalant about auditions and script readings, yet she would throw herself into her acting with fierce dedication. Sometimes Ke Shu couldn’t even tell if she actually loved acting or was just coasting.

It was rare to see her this ambitious.

Following Ye Zhuyi’s gaze, Ke Shu also looked at the screen, where Qin Zhizhen’s image was displayed.

The woman hailed as a “Goddess” had landed her first TV drama at fourteen. The show became an overnight sensation, with families across the country tuning in every night at eight o’clock. Qin Zhizhen’s heartbreakingly mature portrayal of the eldest sister earned her the Huayu TV Magnolia Award for Best Actress, making her the youngest recipient in the award’s history. Almost overnight, she became a household name.

Fame often brings trouble. Even though Qin Zhizhen was still a minor at the time, the venomous keyboard warriors showed her no mercy. They relentlessly spread rumors and made malicious accusations. Any photo of her with an older man would spark claims that he was her “sugar daddy” or that she was being kept by him.

Just as her career was reaching its peak, Qin Zhizhen abruptly quit acting for reasons unknown and disappeared from the public eye for a while. Just as people were starting to forget her, she reappeared on the big screen. With the film Assassination, she won both the Chinese Film Golden Oriole Award and the Best Actress award at an International A-list Film Festival. At just eighteen years old, she proved her worth to the world with her stunning beauty, superb acting, and unparalleled talent.

Shortly after, Qin Zhizhen’s background was exposed. She was the granddaughter of the boss of Rongguang Film and Television, one of the three giants in the entertainment industry, and she was Qin Zhenghong’s most favored grandchild.

Afterward, the films she starred in were released one after another, each a massive hit. She swept major and minor awards both domestically and internationally. On her twenty-fifth birthday, Qin Zhizhen achieved the Triple Crown, solidifying her position in the film industry and earning the nickname “Qin Shen” throughout the entertainment circle.

Ke Shu recalled the ambition Ye Zhuyi had once mentioned, a look of understanding and pride crossing her face. She too hoped Ye Zhuyi would be more driven, as it would increase her own chances of becoming a Gold Medal Manager. “You’re still very talented at acting,” she encouraged. “I believe in you. Don’t you want to become a Film Empress?” She gestured with her chin toward the screen. “Then strive to be like Film Empress Qin.”

Ke Shu had assumed Ye Zhuyi was motivated because she wanted to be a Film Empress. But she never imagined, Ye Zhuyi was motivated simply because she wanted to be a Film Empress.

*****

Meanwhile, Qin Zhizhen, the source of Ye Zhuyi’s newfound motivation, was sitting in the celebrity van, her elegant brows furrowed as she stared at the iPad that her assistant, Lian Rong, was tremblingly holding out.

Sunlight streamed through the glass window, not softening her ethereal, untainted aura but instead gilding her in a golden light that made her seem even more aloof and otherworldly.

The play of light and shadow accentuated Qin Zhizhen’s striking features. Even after years of working for her, Lian Rong still didn’t dare to stare. The sheer impact of such breathtaking beauty was overwhelming, especially Qin Zhizhen’s deep, soulful eyes, which held a vortex-like depth that could easily draw anyone into their depths with a single glance.

Those eyes alone were a testament to her immense skill and presence.

But Lian Rong had no time to admire the timeless beauty right now. She was panicking. How on earth had she been caught by Qin Shen herself while getting lost in a “shipping” video of her favorite idol, Ye Zhuyi, and her employer, Qin Shen?

“What is this?” Qin Zhizhen asked, her voice cool and composed.

“Um… it’s a shipping video of you and Ye Zhuyi,” Lian Rong forced herself to stay calm. Though Qin Shen appeared cold and unapproachable, anyone who worked with her long enough knew she was actually quite gentle.

Qin Zhizhen paused for a moment. Over the past two years, public acceptance of same-sex relationships had been steadily increasing, and “shipping” same-sex couples had become quite popular, something she was somewhat familiar with.

However… Qin Zhizhen frowned. “Who is Ye Zhuyi?” She reached out and tapped on a video to watch.

“She was the main dancer of the now-disbanded Astar Girl Group.” Lian Rong watched as Qin Zhizhen’s long, slender fingers, with their well-defined joints, froze in mid-air. She cleared her throat and raised her hand above her head, mimicking rabbit ears. “You know, the one who fell over while doing the Rabbit Dance.”

Back then, during a variety show featuring Group A, the host had asked the four fiercely talented dancers to perform the Rabbit Dance. Their clumsy yet adorable performance had gone viral on social media. Qin Zhizhen had happened to see it at the time and even remarked that it was quite amusing, especially the girl in the center who had tumbled over.

Ye Zhuyi, sitting on the ground with a bewildered expression, was just too cute! Lian Rong recalled the scene, her heart fluttering. She really is a little lion cub, fierce on stage, but soft and adorable off it.

Qin Zhizhen shot her a cold glance. Lian Rong snapped back to reality and lowered her hand, defeated. Qin Shen’s indifferent expression clearly indicated that she had forgotten the whole thing.

The video had finished playing. Qin Zhizhen handed the iPad back to Lian Rong, adjusted her posture, and fell silent for a moment. Then, her thin lips parted, and her ethereal voice drifted through the air, tinged with confusion.

“Do I look like a ‘shou’?”

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