Chapter 4: Revelation

“Mo Qi, right?” The staff member looked her up and down before turning around. “Follow me.”

Mo Qi trailed behind until they stopped behind a curtain.

“Take this microphone. When your name is called, walk out from here,” the staff instructed.

“Thank you,” Mo Qi replied with a smile, accepting the mic.

“You have a good presence. Don’t be nervous—good luck.” Every young man and woman at this audition carried dreams and ambitions. The staff always tried to flatter or fish for information from them.

But Mo Qi, from start to finish, hadn’t asked a single thing, seeming calm and composed. The staff found themselves liking her.

Mo Qi only smiled, not responding further. The staff, offering a few comforting words, soon left.

“Number 037, Mo Qi.”

Her name was announced from in front of the curtain. Mo Qi took a deep breath, brushed aside the fabric, and stepped onto the stage.

“It’s finally her turn!” Zhang Fan murmured with interest.

Su Xiao smiled without a word. Wu Jin’s expression grew colder as she glanced at Mo Qi’s file.

Shen Yijue gave Mo Qi’s information a cursory look, fingers interlaced on the table, then raised his head to watch her on stage.

Wu Jin, feigning interest, tapped the file. “Mo Qi, a sophomore at Central Drama Academy?” As she spoke, she looked up at Mo Qi.

Mo Qi had read through this file in the car. Second-year at Central Drama, majoring in acting, but her strength was dance.

“Good day, esteemed judges. My name is Mo Qi,” she introduced herself, bowing slightly at the waist.

Zhang Fan leaned back in his chair with a friendly smile. “What talent have you prepared?”

“A mime performance.”

Suddenly, Shen Yijue interjected, “Isn’t your specialty dance?”

The first round of auditions was for contestants to showcase their talents, based on which the judges would decide whether they would progress.

The other three judges exchanged surprised glances.

So far in the auditions, King Shen had remained silent, even for contestants Lin Zheng, number one, and Xie An, number seventeen, whom the other three had favored.

Zhang Fan raised his eyebrows, while Su Xiao circled Mo Qi’s photo with his pen.

Wu Jin’s face soured, but given Shen’s status in the industry, she dared not say anything.

Mo Qi also looked at Shen Yijue, surprised. His words seemed almost protective.

Did Mo Qi know King Shen in her past?

Her mind raced, but her expression remained placid. “Growth comes from challenge. I hope my mime will appeal to you all.”

Shen Yijue nodded. “Begin.”

“This piece is my own choreography, titled ‘Against the Current,’” Mo Qi said, setting the mic on a prop at the side of the stage.

Zhang Fan nodded approvingly. “Calm and composed—not afraid of the stage. That’s impressive.”

Su Xiao agreed, “She looks good too. For an idol, she’s already qualified.”

Wu Jin, arms crossed, sneered. “Idols need substance too. If she’s just a pretty face, she’ll never make it big.”

Zhang Fan and Su Xiao only gave faint smiles, neither agreeing nor arguing.

Shen Yijue set down his pen and glanced at Wu Jin.

Wu Jin felt a chill and shifted awkwardly in her seat. “Of course, if she has the talent, our stage won’t waste her. Isn’t that right, King Shen?”

“Sometimes, knowing how to use your strengths can bring great opportunities,” Shen Yijue replied flatly. “Don’t you know that, Ms. Wu Jin?”

Wu Jin stiffened, her face cycling through several shades.

Su Xiao pretended to study Mo Qi’s file. Zhang Fan laughed quietly behind her hand.

Wu Jin herself had risen from a talent show, and rumor had it she’d barely kept her fourth-place finish by getting close to the show’s director—a well-known secret in the industry, never spoken aloud.

That Shen Yijue exposed it so openly now made it clear he didn’t intend to spare her any dignity.

In this industry, only someone of his stature could do such a thing.

Wu Jin seethed inwardly. She dared not offend Shen Yijue, but Mo Qi was a nobody—someone she could easily crush.

Mo Qi placed the microphone aside and did not return to center stage.

She stood at the edge, chin lifted, mouth open and gasping rapidly.

Her hands clawed frantically at the air. Suddenly, her fingers clenched, as if grasping something.

A faint look of relief crossed her face.

Zhang Fan turned in astonishment to Shen Yijue. “Is she in rapids?”

“Yes. She’s struggling to survive,” Shen Yijue replied, hands folded under his chin, his gaze locked on Mo Qi. Suddenly, he reached for the mic. “A wave surges—you’re thrown out.”

For a newcomer with no stage experience to be interrupted mid-performance and forced to improvise was the ultimate test. Even a moment’s panic would ruin the scene.

The other judges sensed Shen Yijue’s partiality, but his sudden challenge caught them off guard.

Mo Qi, however, instantly let go and arched backward. The angle was flawless, utterly natural, as if she truly had been swept over by a wave.

She grabbed for something again, her body still rising and falling as if battered by the water.

She wiped imaginary water from her face, exhaled heavily, and groped her way forward once more.

Wu Jin unconsciously clenched her pen until it clicked. She’d hoped Mo Qi would fail miserably—then she could vote against her without guilt. But Mo Qi was too good; even Wu Jin, who couldn’t act at all, understood every nuance.

Su Xiao circled her photo again, smiling. “I think I see a future star of the industry. What do you think, King Shen?”

“A bit raw, but with practice and experience, she’ll be even better,” Shen Yijue said, marking Mo Qi’s photo.

Zhang Fan glanced over and added her own mark.

Mo Qi battled upstream and finally made it ashore.

Su Xiao put down his pen and began to applaud.

Mo Qi retrieved her microphone and bowed.

“In life, we all face currents. As long as we don’t give up, we’ll find rescue. Your performance moved me deeply—and made me want to act with you someday,” Su Xiao said, raising the pass card. “You have my vote.”

“I don’t know much about acting, but your performance put me right there with you. You have my vote as well,” Zhang Fan added.

Wu Jin ground her teeth. “I can see you incorporated dance into your acting. Keep working hard.” Reluctantly, she raised her card.

“Congratulations,” Shen Yijue said simply, holding up his own card.

Mo Qi had achieved the only unanimous pass of the auditions so far.

“Thank you, judges.” She bowed again and exited down the side stairs.

“She’s no stranger to the stage,” Zhang Fan remarked. “She was calm at the start, and even after a unanimous pass, she barely flinched.”

Shen Yijue beckoned his assistant, who hurried over. “Brother Shen?”

“Tell Mo Qi to come to my dressing room later,” Shen Yijue instructed.

The assistant looked up in surprise. Shen never met privately with female stars—was he really about to take advantage of a newcomer?

“Yes,” the assistant mumbled, quickly lowering his gaze and moving off to relay the message.

Shen Yijue glanced at the next contestant’s file, barely registering the details before pushing it aside.

Su Xiao and Zhang Fan exchanged knowing looks.

Wu Jin seethed in silence.

Backstage, the staff approached Mo Qi to congratulate her. “Well done! I knew you’d make it.”

“Thank you for your kind words,” Mo Qi replied with a gentle smile, helping to steady the props.

The staff’s smile grew even more genuine. “After passing, there’ll be a week of intensive training. Do your best.”

“I will.” Mo Qi watched the staff leave before moving on.

Taking the stage and passing the audition was only the first step.

“Miss Mo Qi, please wait.” Shen Yijue’s assistant jogged over.

Mo Qi stopped and turned.

“Hello, I’m Xiao Zhang, King Shen’s assistant,” he said.

Mo Qi considered the possibilities but kept her face impassive. “What do you need?”

“It’s like this,” he explained. “King Shen was impressed by your performance and would like to discuss acting techniques with you, hoping it will help your career.”

For a superstar actor to humble himself and offer guidance to a complete novice—it was so suspicious it could only be a pretext.

The unspoken rules of the industry?

Mo Qi smiled faintly. “Very well, please lead the way.”

Xiao Zhang looked down on her inwardly—just as he thought, all women were the same, eager to cling to Shen for a chance to rise.

“Miss Mo Qi, this way please.” Though he despised her, he remained polite.

He led her to Shen Yijue’s private dressing room.

“Please have a seat,” he said, pouring her a glass of water before closing the door behind him.

Mo Qi sat on the guest sofa and surveyed the spacious, bright room—larger than her own living room.

She didn’t wait long before the door opened again.

Shen Yijue entered, closed the door, locked it, and walked over slowly.

Mo Qi looked up at him.

He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the armrest, loosened his tie, and asked, “Do you know why I called you here?”

He undid his cufflinks and took a seat.

Mo Qi lifted her chin, meeting his deep gaze head-on. Sparks seemed to crackle in the air between them.

She smiled innocently. “Brother Zhang said you wanted to teach me some acting techniques. I have little experience and would greatly appreciate your guidance.”

Shen Yijue narrowed his eyes, unfastening his cuffs. “You’re a smart woman. You should know that nothing comes without a price.”

“Of course,” Mo Qi nodded earnestly. “I’ll work hard and will not let your guidance go to waste.”

His hands paused for a moment. He looked up at her.

Their eyes met again—his face unreadable, hers innocent and sincere.

An unseen pressure filled the room, as if the air had been sucked out by a massive machine, leaving one gasping for breath.

Mo Qi’s smile did not waver, but her fingers slowly curled into a fist.

The pressure Shen Yijue exuded as an actor was something she, with her current experience, could not withstand.

She remembered again how it felt to see him on the big screen—regal, commanding.

In this world, he was king. Everything was his to grant or deny, and no one could contradict him.

He rolled up his sleeves elegantly. “I’m not here to play games. Come here, or open the door and leave. The choice is yours.”

For Mo Qi right now, the benefits were obvious—there was no need to think twice.

She suddenly smiled, set down her glass, and stood.

“Have you really thought it through, King Shen?” she asked.

He looked at her in silence.

Mo Qi circled the coffee table, walking toward him like a lazy Persian cat, ready to bare her claws at any moment.

“I may be a clueless newcomer, but there’s one thing I understand. In this industry, countless actresses have tried to use your name to climb to the top, but not one has succeeded.” She stopped by his side, her slender fingers brushing his handsome cheek, her breath warm as she leaned close. “Given that, do you think I’d pass up a windfall like this?”