Chapter 36

Over the next two days, Yu Xi didn’t give himself too much work. He focused on preparing for the Chasing Shadows audition.

Previously, Guan Zifan had been handling all the communication with the production team. Over the past two evenings, he had sent the audition time, scheduled for three days later—which was tomorrow.

Yu Xi needed to rest early.

After washing up and getting into bed, Yu Xi received a message from Ji Ruiou.

Ji Ruiou: 【My audition is over!】

Ji Ruiou: 【I passed!】

Ji Ruiou: 【Probably!】

Ji Ruiou: 【The director didn’t say yes or no, but he asked to meet me! Tomorrow!】

Yu Xi: 【Congrats!】

Yu Xi: 【Now you can tell me which script you picked, right?】

Ji Ruiou: 【Once it’s confirmed!】

Ji Ruiou: 【No celebrating halfway!】

Yu Xi: 【As long as you don’t joke around with your own body.】

Yu Xi: 【Good luck tomorrow!】

He slept dreamlessly through the night.

Early the next morning, Ji Ruiou arrived at the location where he had arranged to meet the director and waited.

“Have a seat first.” The assistant in charge of reception was a man in his thirties with a sharp, thin voice. He walked with exaggerated hip sways, and his outfit was extremely avant-garde. He handed Ji Ruiou a cup of water.

“I watched your audition that day. The director was pretty satisfied with you. Say some nice things later, and who knows—he might get happy and confirm you on the spot.”

“Thank you.” Ji Ruiou smiled obediently and gently. He asked, “How come the director isn’t here yet?”

“There are still more auditions.” Speaking of today’s auditions, the assistant sounded displeased. The auditions were supposed to wrap up today, but Yu Xi had insisted on squeezing in an extra day, forcing him to work overtime on his day off. “Big shots are great—they can casually push back their audition without caring about us workers slaving away!”

“Don’t be mad. It’s just one person, so it should be quick,” Ji Ruiou said. “Why don’t you go rest? I can wait here.”

“You’re such a good kid.” The assistant greatly appreciated Ji Ruiou’s knack for reading the room. He eagerly grabbed his bag and headed out, sending a voice message as he walked.

“Yeah, really annoying! Making me work overtime. It’s that Yu Xi! As if his vibe could pull off the role. Just a traffic star with a pretty face and some popularity—thinks he’s the king of the world? Tch.”

The assistant’s voice wasn’t loud, and it faded with his footsteps.

But Ji Ruiou heard the name “Yu Xi.”

His heart skipped a beat.

Yu Xi was coming to audition?

–

“Why today?” When Yu Xi arrived at the audition site, he saw the online notice and asked Guan Zifan. “Didn’t the production team say auditions were over?”

“The director set the time himself. I didn’t make any weird requests,” Guan Zifan guessed. “Maybe to show they’re taking it seriously?”

“Could be. I’ll head in and check.” Yu Xi hung up and entered the audition room.

The director, assistant director, and producer were already there.

Yu Xi greeted each of them. The director said, “Wait a bit longer. We’ll start the audition soon. President Ruan will be here shortly—he’s coming specifically to watch your audition.”

President Ruan—Ruan Yan Shan, who controlled the Ruan Group and was currently Chasing Shadows’ biggest investor.

The director said quietly, “He’s the one who scheduled it for today.”

Yu Xi: “?”

Yu Xi: “Why?”

“Of course, because his kids are your fans,” the producer laughed. “He wants to get a photo with you through this. President Ruan is always so busy—only today worked.”

Yu Xi understood.

Just an autograph and a photo, a quick hello. Scheduling a special time just to watch his audition felt overly formal.

After about fifteen minutes, Ruan Yan Shan pushed open the door, his assistant trailing behind with two shy teenagers—twin siblings.

“Sorry I’m late.” Ruan Yan Shan had a mild demeanor and gentle tone, his smile like a spring breeze. He smiled at his two kids. “They changed outfits several times today, all to make a good impression on Brother Yu Xi.”

The twins hid shyly behind the assistant at first, peeking timidly at their father before sneaking glances at Yu Xi. Only after Ruan Yan Shan nodded did they look at him openly.

“Hi there.” Yu Xi found the two kids truly adorable and well-behaved. Years of fan interactions taught him how to connect with children their age. They quickly warmed up from initial shyness, sweetly calling him “Brother Yu Xi” over and over.

The kids crowded around Yu Xi, got their autographs, took a group photo, and were happily led out by the assistant.

Only after sending off Ruan Yan Shan’s two children did the audition officially begin.

He didn’t know how other actors interpreted the male lead.

He performed in his own unique way.

The male lead was someone who habitually hid his true self in unknown dark corners.

Under the sunlight, he always played another role—timid and ordinary, weak and unremarkable. He kept his head down, wore thick black-rimmed glasses, and walked through the bustling crowd. Even in a suit, anyone could tell at a glance he was the lowliest workhorse at the bottom of the company food chain.

Yu Xi stripped away complex expressions and movements. With just a single look—a weary, sleep-deprived gaze—he sketched out the image of an overworked office drone.

Ruan Yan Shan sat with his fingers interlaced, watching Yu Xi’s performance intently, the corners of his mouth curving up slightly.

The audition segment wasn’t long, but it wasn’t short either.

The lights dimmed. The male lead’s shoulders gradually relaxed. He seemed to prefer the darkness, where the faint light let him reveal the sharpness in his eyes without hiding.

He leaned against the table. Opposite him—in the script, it should have been a dense crowd at that moment. Yet he was so relaxed, so indifferent. He casually propped his elbow on his shoulder, tilted his head slightly, his forehead hair falling to one side. Those eyes—those stunningly beautiful eyes—shone brilliantly.

“You, what else can you do?”

The performance ended, and Ruan Yan Shan clapped.

The sound of palms meeting rang out crisply in the quiet room.

He was very satisfied with Yu Xi’s performance.

The director, assistant director, and producer were extremely pleased too.

In fact, they had sent out many audition invitations.

But they hadn’t found a male lead who was a perfect fit. Good actors were too old; younger ones either couldn’t capture the exhaustion of a corporate slave or were completely unknown, unable to bring the buzz, traffic, and attention.

An actor’s quality and commercial value could be gauged eighty percent from one audition.

Plus, Ruan Yan Shan seemed to like Yu Xi a lot—satisfying both artistic and financial backers.

All in all, Yu Xi was the most suitable choice for the male lead.

–

Ji Ruiou waited a long time in the office without a word from the director.

He paced back and forth, even mustering the courage to message the director on WeChat. But it was like tossing a stone into a deep pool—no response.

The automatic kettle boiled the water, let it cool, then boiled it again. Ji Ruiou couldn’t sit still any longer.

He went downstairs, intending to check the audition room.

Just out of the elevator, he saw the director hurrying past.

“Director!” Ji Ruiou called out.

Hearing the voice, the director suddenly remembered something—he had an appointment with a young actor?

What was his name… Ji something? A friend had slipped him onto the audition list. His screen test showed promise, but he lacked fame and had too many messy roles on his resume. It wasn’t pretty.

An actor’s resume mattered as much to them as anything.

Too much black history could influence the director, production team, and investors.

Before finding a good fit, the director had called Ji Ruiou to chat, probe deeper, see if he had male lead potential. He had planned to talk after Yu Xi’s audition, but got so excited about the perfect candidate that he forgot.

No big deal. A small actor could wait. If Yu Xi fell through, they could talk then.

“Little Ji, not today! I’m busy. Head back, and I’ll contact you later.” The director brushed off Ji Ruiou and turned with a fawning smile to chase after Yu Xi.

“Hey, Teacher Yu Xi, wait up!”

Hearing the voice, Yu Xi started to turn. Ji Ruiou’s breath caught. He didn’t know what he was thinking or what he should do. By the time he snapped out of it, he had already ducked into the shadows.

Ji Ruiou made sure Yu Xi didn’t see him.

“Handing you that script was my best decision ever!” The director’s voice reached Ji Ruiou’s ears. “Any chance to add you on contacts? I’d love for Teacher Yu Xi to take the role.”

“You’re too kind,” Yu Xi said. “Guan Ge already added you. For work stuff, coordinate with him?”

Yu Xi didn’t want to commit right away.

Auditions were a two-way street. They evaluated him; he evaluated the team.

Professionals handle their specialties. He’d act; negotiations went to Guan Zifan.

The director added, “But we could add personal contacts too. Get together sometime, chat—not work, just ideals.”

“Sure.” Yu Xi opened WeChat and smoothly friended the director. “By the way, I thought I heard someone call you just now?”

“No big deal.” The director waved it off. “Not needed anymore.”

In the shadows, Ji Ruiou went rigid.

Some indescribable emotion surged like waves.

Not needed anymore.

Those four words stabbed like a needle into Ji Ruiou’s ears.

He was just an item that could be discarded at will.