Shen Lang (as Su Yunyi) shook his head violently:
"Nope. Can't act. Won't act."
His agent stared, equal parts baffled and furious:
"If you can't act, who can? Director Luo handpicked you! This 'audition' is a formality—just mumble through it. The role is yours."
Oh right.
Original plot: Su Yunyi did land the lead. Sylvia pretended not to care—until her "ride-or-die" bestie Ivy "accidentally" comforted her within earshot of the director. He cast Sylvia as the second lead... only to promote her to protagonist mid-shoot when Su Yunyi's scandals exploded.
Shen Lang's eyes suddenly lit up:
"Wait—so I can totally phone it in?"
Agent (through gritted teeth): "Yes."
I was this close to eavesdropping more when Sylvia's voice sliced through the air:
"Xiao Yiiii—"
Summoned like a disobedient Pomeranian.
Jay still hovered beside her, pointedly ignoring my existence.
Me: "Do you at least know when you're auditioning?"
Sylvia blinked: "No?"
Me: "...Then what were you two gossiping about for 20 minutes?"
She glanced at Jay, whispering:
"I haven't seen Brother Jay in weeks! We caught up... and made dinner plans. You'll join us, right?"
"Hard pass." I shot Jay a look of pure disdain. "Sylvia. Focus. You're here to audition, not plan date night. Priorities?"
Frustration boiled over.
She's like that coworker who "forgot" the deadline after discussing brunch for an hour.
Old office traumas resurfaced. I turned to leave—
Sylvia grabbed my wrist: "Don't be mad..."
"Not mad." I pried her off. "Just done."
Cue the waterworks:
"You are mad! Best friends don't abandon each other!"
Thirty more minutes with her, and I'll develop Best Friend PTSD.
Jay finally intervened, oozing condescension:
"Chill. It's just an audition. Sylvia's your friend, not your employee."
He dialed the director, secured Sylvia a slot in 30 minutes.
Ah, nepotism. How novel.
Hanging up, Jay eyed me like roadkill:
"Sylvia, screen friends carefully. Not everyone deserves your heart."
"Brother Jay, don't! Xiao Yi just cares too much—"
"Your fatal flaw," he sighed. "Too pure. Too easily exploited."
Oh, hell no.
I wheeled around, voice arctic:
"Jay. Cut the crap. Nobody's filming your mediocre melodrama here. If you'd used half this 'passion' in your last movie, maybe it wouldn't have flopped with a 3.7 rating."
Jay's face purpled: "You—!"
I raised an eyebrow: "'You' what? I am your father, boy. Sit down."