Rebirth: A big star falls in love with me

She looked at Tang Yan and said, "So don't let concepts like 'Republic of China era' and 'lady' confine you. Lin Wan'er is first and foremost an eighteen-year-old girl, with all the joys and sorrows of that age. And then comes the characteristics that the era she lived in gave her."

These words enlightened Tang Yan.

As evening approached and the class neared its end, Gao Yuanyuan suddenly asked, "Tang Yan, do you know why I helped you so much?"

Tang Yan honestly shook her head.

“Because I see my younger self in you.” Gao Yuanyuan’s gaze became distant. “You have talent and passion, but you lack guidance. I was very lucky back then to have met some great mentors. Now it’s my turn, and I want to pass on that luck.”

She paused, then added, "Of course, there's also Zhang Yu's influence. He rarely values ​​a newcomer this much, and I trust his judgment."

"Director Zhang... is he very important to you?" Tang Yan asked cautiously.

Gao Yuanyuan smiled: "We've been friends for many years. He saved my career and gave me the role I needed most when I was at my lowest point. I will always remember this friendship."

She didn't elaborate, but Tang Yan could sense that the story behind it was profound.

As she left, Gao Yuanyuan saw her to the door: "The audition is next Wednesday. Director Hu Mei likes actors to be well-prepared, but she also likes to see their improvisation. Find a good balance."

"I will, thank you, Sister Yuanyuan."

"Keep going. I believe in you."

Walking down the winter street, Tang Yan clutched the documents in her arms tightly. The weight of these papers was the weight of knowledge, and also the weight of expectations. She suddenly realized that she carried not only her own dreams, but also the kindness and trust of many people.

This weight made her steps heavy, but it also made her steps firm.

……

At nine o'clock on Wednesday morning, Tang Yan stood in front of the Huaying Group building. The glass curtain wall building, located in the core area of ​​the CBD, gleamed in the winter sun, but it gave her a chill—this was Wang Zhongjun's territory.

The audition was held in a conference room on the eighteenth floor. When Tang Yan arrived, seven or eight girls were already waiting outside, all young and beautiful, some of them drama students. She found a corner to sit down and took a deep breath.

"Tang Yan?" A familiar voice.

Looking up, I saw Jing Tian. She was wearing a Chanel suit and had impeccable makeup; she was clearly there to participate in the audition judging.

"Sister Jingtian." Tang Yan stood up.

"Don't be nervous, Director Hu Mei is very fair." Jing Tian's smile was impeccable. "However, everyone who auditioned today is excellent, so you should be prepared."

These words sounded like concern, but they were actually a form of pressure. Tang Yan maintained her smile: "I will do my best."

Jing Tian gave her a deep look, then turned and went into the conference room.

The audition order was determined by drawing lots, and Tang Yan was sixth in line. The five girls before her didn't stay long inside, and each came out with a different expression. When it was Tang Yan's turn, she took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

The conference room was large, and five people sat behind a long table: director Hu Mei, the producer, the screenwriter, and two assistant directors. Jing Tian sat next to the producer and nodded slightly to her.

Director Hu Mei, in her sixties, with short hair and glasses, had a serious expression. She sized up Tang Yan for a few seconds: "Let's begin."

The audition consists of three parts: reading lines, acting out a scene, and a Q&A session with the director.

Tang Yan drew a line from Lin Wan'er's monologue at her father's funeral. This scene is rich in emotional layers, moving from incomprehension to sadness, from sadness to anger, and finally settling into a calm that transcends age.

She stopped, closed her eyes for three seconds, and when she opened them again, her gaze had changed. It wasn't the gaze of an eighteen-year-old girl, but the gaze of someone forced to grow up overnight.

“My father often said that in chaotic times, preserving a business is harder than starting one…” Her voice trembled at first, but gradually became firm. “He spent his whole life preserving the family business and the reputation, but he couldn’t save his own life. Is this era fair? Is it just?

There was no hysteria, no weeping; all her emotions were contained within a cold, sharp edge. When she said, "I will continue to guard until there is nothing left to guard," her voice was as soft as a sigh, yet as heavy as a vow.

The performance ended, and the conference room fell silent. Director Hu Mei took off her glasses, wiped them, and put them back on: "Scene performance. The topic is: Lin Wan'er's first love letter."

There was no script, no prompts. Tang Yan had to improvise entirely.

She walked to the window, imagining it to be Lin Wan'er's boudoir. She picked up the non-existent letter, opened it, and read it. At first, she felt surprise, then shyness, followed by a profound sorrow—for she knew that in this turbulent era, love was a luxury.

She folded the letter carefully and tucked it into a hidden compartment in her dressing case. Her movements were gentle, as if burying something precious. Then she walked to the mirror, looked at herself, and gave a smile that was both sweet and bittersweet.

"Cut," Director Hu Mei said. "That's enough. Now answer the question: What do you think was Lin Wan'er's greatest pain?"

Tang Yan pondered for a few seconds: "It wasn't the decline of her family, nor the upheaval of the times, but rather that she saw things too clearly. She clearly saw the fate of her family, and she clearly saw her own powerlessness. This clarity was her greatest pain."

A hint of approval flashed in Hu Mei's eyes: "If you were to add a scene to show this kind of pain, what would you add?"

"A scene where she burns her diary." Tang Yan said without hesitation, "The diary recorded all her girlish thoughts, ideals, and aspirations. Burning it meant that she completely said goodbye to her girlhood and accepted the responsibilities she had to bear."

"Very good." Hu Mei nodded. "One last question: Why did you want to play this role?"

Tang Yan had prepared for this question, but she didn't use the prepared answer. She spoke her true thoughts: "Because Lin Wan'er showed me the resilience of women in history. They may not be the protagonists in history books, but they participated in the writing of history in their own way. I wanted to present this resilience."

Hu Mei looked at her for a long time and then said, "Go back and wait for our notification."

Tang Yan bowed and left. As she walked out of the conference room, she could feel several gazes on her back—some scrutinizing, some admiring, and some wary.

After all the auditions were completed, director Hu Mei asked the judging panel for their opinions.

"Tang Yan's performance is the most nuanced," the screenwriter said. "She understands the depth of the character, not just the surface."

“But she has the lowest profile.” The producer frowned. “Although this role doesn’t have many scenes, it’s crucial to driving the plot forward. Using a newcomer is too risky.”

Jing Tian spoke up: "I think we can use her. Director Hu Mei's films are known for discovering new talents. Tang Yan is currently popular, and 'Awakening of Insects' is about to participate in the Berlin Film Festival. Once the international exposure comes, the issue of fame will be resolved."

That was a beautifully said statement, but Hu Mei sensed the underlying meaning. She glanced at Jing Tian: "You seem to know her very well?"