Chapter 56: In the Audition

After waiting for what felt like ages before hearing her name called, Chu Luoxi inexplicably glanced back. The person ahead had already gone in; why such a long pause before her turn? Could it be someone had impressed them so much the director and his team were debating her merits? Frowning slightly, Chu Luoxi realized she had to show some real skill—if she were eliminated for personal reasons, it would betray the trust of Senior Xiao and Cold Master Ji.

She couldn't help but think this was a beautiful misunderstanding. Chu Luoxi resolved to increase her efforts, to put on a true performance; after all, when one rises, another falls—the meaning was clear enough.

Entering the room calmly, she was a bit surprised to find the crew taking the audition more seriously than she’d imagined; they’d actually arranged for an actor to play opposite her.

Huang Zixue? Of course she knew him.

In the entertainment industry, youth is an asset for women, while for men, age brings depth. Huang Zixue, just past thirty, was entering a meteoric phase in his career. Despite "Empire" being a woman's story, it had made him, the actor playing the emperor, a star.

This emperor was no mere background figure; he looked down upon the world, plotted and schemed, could stir clouds with a wave, summon rain with a flick—his sharp bearing and confidence embodied the most compelling side of royal power. With his handsome features and refined aura, Huang Zixue not only charmed the palace’s consorts but also captivated countless viewers.

Moreover, Huang Zixue possessed real talent. In her previous life, Chu Luoxi had been in the same crew a few times but never played opposite him. She’d only heard that working with him was exhilarating, and he was considerate; she wondered how it would feel now.

These thoughts flashed by in an instant. Chu Luoxi gathered herself and watched Qiu Xian, awaiting instructions.

Glancing at the scene drawn by Number Twenty-Three, Qiu Xian raised his brow, understanding the situation. He handed the slip to Qi Yue and Huang Zixue, then began to review Chu Luoxi’s information. He was clearly surprised, looking up to size her up.

Was it just his imagination because Qi Yue had made that remark? Qiu Xian found her too beautiful for his taste, all looks and no substance, so his tone wasn’t particularly warm: “You’re still a student at Imperial Film?”

She’d been recommended by Cold Master Ji—Qiu Xian wondered, was Scenery Entertainment planning to sign her? He’d thought Cold Lu would ignore the matter, but unexpectedly, someone had indeed been sent.

Chu Luoxi paid no mind to the director’s less-than-gentle tone. On set, ninety-nine percent of directors could transform into roaring dragons; to hear a controlled voice was already a gift. A diamond-hard heart—that was forged by experience!

“Yes, school starts in September. I’m a third-year,” Chu Luoxi replied properly, fully aware that being a student was hardly an advantage.

Hearing this exchange, Qi Yue and Huang Zixue—busy reviewing their scripts—were taken aback, exchanging puzzled glances. What connections did this girl have? Without seeing her profile, they didn’t know Chu Luoxi had been recommended by Cold Lu. They’d just been lamenting how all the auditioning actresses were mere pretty faces, and now even students were being sent in. Why were they taking this audition so seriously?

It just showed how first impressions can shape perception.

While the two men nursed their grievances, Qiu Xian sighed inwardly, not expecting much. After a brief silence, he finally said, “Give it a try. Zixue, play the scene with her…”

Chu Luoxi’s lively, clear eyes caught everyone’s reactions. She curled her lips, knowing the three decision-makers fundamentally didn’t believe in her. But words were useless; whether a mule or a horse, you had to bring it out for a walk to see. She was used to speaking through action.

Huang Zixue naturally complied, moving aside to await his cue. Though he grumbled inwardly—if the role of the Gentle Consort required pitiful tears, must every audition scene be so frail? All the actresses chose the “Flooded Golden Mountain” routine, leaving him, the partner, to suffer.

Chu Luoxi, unaware of his thoughts and indifferent to Qiu Xian and Qi Yue’s nonchalance, simply waited for Qiu Xian’s command. At his “begin,” her gaze sharpened, her bearing shifted; though she wore a modern short dress, it seemed to transform into the flowing robes of antiquity. Her entire presence radiated classical beauty, every movement dignified, elegant, regal.

That single glance—a subtle sweep—made Qiu Xian and Qi Yue shudder. Their earlier indifference vanished; nothing else mattered as they focused on the Gentle Consort before them, vivid and real. Despite choosing to endure silently, her dignity and grace were undiminished by her lack of background.

As Chu Luoxi’s aura changed, Huang Zixue, waiting to enter the scene, grew serious. His eyes locked onto her, afraid to miss a moment.

It wasn’t only the three bosses; everyone in the room seemed drawn into the scene by Chu Luoxi. Each gaze was fixed on her, as if they were all playing a game of statues, forgetting their own tasks.

Chu Luoxi had done this deliberately—if she didn’t capture everyone’s attention immediately, her performance would lose impact. She had no intention of wasting her effort; she’d prepared meticulously to set the stage.

Now it seemed her efforts were paying off.

Seeing her objective achieved, Chu Luoxi went straight to the chair in the room, sitting gracefully, her presence irresistible.

The drama was only just beginning.

She smiled lightly, masking a false social courtesy, clearly a bit impatient with the consorts’ gatherings. Her clear autumn eyes flashed a hint of mischief, as if watching a show. As one of the emperor’s consorts, Gentle Consort maintained outward respect for the Empress, but could well play the invisible woman, viewing the drama from above.

Three women make a play; with so many gathered, the palace drama was far richer than any staged by the royal troupe.

Gentle Consort, having watched enough, leisurely lifted the teacup before her, savoring it. Her every gesture held a natural, ethereal beauty.

But as the rim of the teacup touched her lips, something dreadful seemed to happen. Gentle Consort paused, raising her head toward the source of commotion. Her eyes widened, her expression instinctively innocent—yet beneath it lay a hint of coldness and curiosity.

Palace intrigue was a daily occurrence; innocence was essential. No matter what had happened or how serious it was, the first priority was to distance herself from it.

Otherwise, someone would always seize on the slightest “flaw” and refuse to let go…