Chapter 138: What Defines Art

Attempting to copy a master only results in a poor imitation; seeing others try to mimic her, even Wu Jialan couldn't help but flash a smile. Imitation is rarely better than the original, and if everyone followed suit, then the final victory would undoubtedly be hers. At that moment, no one considered the possibility that Fan Li might not choose anyone at all.

The ninth candidate took the stage, and Chu Luoxi’s eyes lit up with slight surprise. She didn't seem to recognize this woman from her memories, which meant that unless she was a character born from the butterfly effect of her own presence, she must have been someone who never made it in the industry. According to the files provided by Lan Lun, this beauty was named Bai Lingxiao, apparently the daughter of a wealthy family. It seemed she was dabbling in the entertainment world more for play than for a career.

However, it appeared she took whatever work she did seriously, showing none of the fragility or arrogance typical of a pampered heiress. Judging by her gait alone, she had definitely spent time in the military; although her aura was still raw, the essence was there. Even Wu Jialan’s expression turned solemn, no longer as confident as before.

Since no one was using wirework, the difficulty of the actions was naturally lower than the scripted requirements. Bai Lingxiao was the same, but her movements were strikingly fluid, full of momentum and agility. Her chase sequence was quite a sight to behold. Most of these actresses had never played a female soldier, so they relied on imagination, their own interpretations, or snippets heard from others, assuming that was how it should be played.

Bai Lingxiao was perhaps the most knowledgeable and impressive among them, but she had a fatal flaw: she didn't know how to act. She was a complete novice among novices. Her movements possessed a genuine military feel, but they were visually disastrous on camera. She had no concept of how to play to the lens or how to position herself. If a director were to cast someone like her as the lead, the burden would be immense—and that was an understatement.

While Fan Li wanted a realistic approach, a television drama ultimately had to be filmed for millions of viewers. The visuals didn't necessarily have to be breathtaking, but they had to be at least passable. Acting foundations cannot be learned in a day or two, and Bai Lingxiao had exposed herself as a total outsider.

Perhaps by the end of "Blood Phoenix," Bai Lingxiao’s acting would be decent enough, but Fan Li could not afford that luxury. Having acquired this script, he wanted to create a classic, not train a newcomer. He felt quite frustrated, especially when he saw on the monitor that Bai Lingxiao had lunged forward with a leap. Her movement was crisp and efficient, and she didn't care about the state of the set, but she lunged right out of the frame, disappearing from the camera's view entirely.

"Alright, that’s enough. Next," Fan Li said, his voice drained of energy. The girl was far too earnest; when he didn't call cut, she didn't stop, continuing to improvise on her own—falling, crawling back up, lunging, and rolling. The intensity of her self-invented battle was enough to leave everyone speechless.

Although Bai Lingxiao’s audition was significantly prolonged, the other competitors remained calm. Even Wu Jialan, who had been cautious at the start, was now relaxed. Bai Lingxiao’s issues were so obvious that even someone with poor judgment could see them. Despite her solid physical attributes, she posed no threat.

Chu Luoxi, who had initially paid some attention to her, finally understood why this person hadn't existed in her memories—Bai Lingxiao probably wasn't even part of the industry. But how could someone who didn't know how to act come to audition for a female lead? Was she connected to Fan Li in some way?

Chu Luoxi cast those thoughts aside, stood up, and calmly took the prop handed to her by the stagehand—a model gun. During her time learning from Yan Han, she had handled plenty of firearms. Their weight was substantial enough that carrying them for long periods was a chore; some she even had to lift with both hands. The advantage of a replica was its lightness, allowing Chu Luoxi to carry it with one hand and easily play the part of an expert.

Thinking fondly of the group of experts from Yan Han’s company, Chu Luoxi waited for the signal. However, the stagehand stared at her for a long while without saying anything, causing her to look over in confusion: "Why haven't we started?"

In auditions like this, the director rarely bothered to call "action" himself, usually leaving it to the script supervisor. The stagehand was on the verge of tears—with her holding a machine gun in one hand and standing with such a casual posture, even if it was a lightweight model, he thought she wasn't ready yet. Was it his fault after all?

Fan Li, who had already lost hope, found himself intrigued by Chu Luoxi’s casual inquiry and spoke up to save his subordinate from the awkward spot: "Since you're ready, let’s begin!" For some reason, he suddenly felt a flicker of anticipation.

Composure—it was a kind of poise that only comes from absolute self-confidence, something rarely seen in ordinary actors. The stagehand shook off his confusion, signaled to Chu Luoxi, and the clapperboard snapped shut: "Ready, action!"

The moment the words left his lips, Chu Luoxi transformed. The cold, killing intent radiating from her made the script supervisor, who was standing closest to her, shiver and freeze on the spot. She clearly demonstrated to the dispirited crowd what it meant to be "as quiet as a virgin, as swift as a rabbit."

The sudden explosion of intensity and energy made Fan Li flinch, his eyes lighting up instantly. The onlookers were jolted, unable to tear their eyes away, completely captivated by her agile figure.

What is a standoff? What does it mean that speed is life? What is command and special operations? If they had no concept of these before, they understood them now by watching Chu Luoxi’s performance. The high-speed visuals, the decisive commands, the effortless and effective concealment, the precise marksmanship—a series of fluid movements played out a thrilling gunfight for everyone present.

Even though it was only Chu Luoxi performing, and she was wearing casual clothes and jeans, she created the vivid, realistic impression of a soldier on a mission. Moreover, based on her evasive maneuvers, subtle eye movements, and firing actions, even those of them who were laymen regarding combat felt as if they could see her opponents, understand what they were doing, and realize why she was in such a predicament.

Many had never realized that a single person’s performance could be so rich and textured, as if watching her alone allowed one to see the actions and performances of everyone else around her. What kind of concept was this? Art is only art when it resonates with the masses; Chu Luoxi’s performance was so accessible to so many laypeople that it became an art form that left one breathless, with a pounding heart.

Many who were witnessing an audition of this caliber for the first time were simply stunned into silence.