Chapter Twenty-One: A Fleeting Glance at the Audition

Capital City, Nanluogu Alley.

Nanluogu Alley is one of the oldest neighborhoods in the capital, with over 740 years of history. It is the street that most embodies the old Beijing charm, and nearly every tourist visiting the city makes a pilgrimage to Nanluogu Alley.

Today, Gu Zhi and Ning Hao had also come here, though neither was in the mood for leisurely sightseeing.

It was the second day of auditions for the lead roles in “Butterfly Effect,” held at the Experimental Theater of the Central Academy of Drama, nestled in this district where antiquity and modernity converge.

Han Sanping had arranged these auditions. Yesterday, a session had already been held at the Beijing Film Academy, with the same three judges: Gu Zhi, Ning Hao, and Secretary Liu Qi, sent specifically to oversee the proceedings.

Only yesterday did Gu Zhi and Ning Hao learn Secretary Liu’s full name: Liu Qi.

Originally, Gu Zhi and Ning Hao intended to quietly scout suitable students at the Film Academy, but Han Sanping moved swiftly, launching a high-profile audition event right at the Academy. It was already becoming a publicity stunt for the film.

After a whole day interviewing candidates at the Film Academy, they found only supporting actors—small-time performers, not famous now and unlikely to ever be. Fortunately, their acting was barely up to par and their fees were modest, averaging just ten thousand yuan per person.

Yet, not a single main role had been cast.

“Butterfly Effect” required four leads: male and female protagonists, and their childhood counterparts.

The film’s brilliance lay in its bizarre storylines; each time the male lead’s consciousness returned to his childhood and altered the past, unpredictable consequences unfolded in the future. The destinies of the male and female leads and their companions shifted accordingly.

Every change in the past brought forth new circumstances and wholly different character portrayals. The heart of the film was the intertwined fates of the two protagonists, and all this depended on the performances of both the adult and child actors.

Thus, the selection of these four leads was crucial.

Logically, Ning Hao, director of “Butterfly Effect” and a current student at the Film Academy, should have chosen his own schoolmates for the starring roles.

But none of yesterday’s auditioning candidates satisfied Ning Hao; Gu Zhi’s opinions aligned closely with his.

As for Liu Qi, no one bothered to ask her.

Among the auditionees were future household names.

For the male lead, Hai Bo Huang auditioned—he was in his senior year. His acting was solid, but his baby-faced looks marked him as a born performer for comedies and sentimental dramas. Director Ning Hao rejected him on the spot.

Gu Zhi remembered from a previous life that Brother Hai Bo had persevered for years, filming countless TV dramas, finally rising to national stardom as the “ideal husband” in “Let’s Get Married” alongside goddess Gao Yuanyuan. His popularity was unrivaled.

Sadly, his promising future was cut short when his private driver set him up: a scandal involving a brothel landed him in prison for half a year, his reputation ruined, and he withdrew from the limelight.

Gu Zhi thought well of Hai Bo Huang; when he made his mistake, he neither argued nor tried to blame others, but took full responsibility with sincerity and integrity.

“If there’s a chance in the future, maybe I’ll try to warn him.”

After Hai Bo Huang came Du Chun, a freshman—clearly not qualified.

The last future star to audition was Xiao Ming Huang, who had just graduated and only appeared in an obscure sitcom, “Diary of a Web Addict,” and was searching for roles.

To be honest, after watching his audition, the slightly green Xiao Ming Huang displayed acting far superior to what he would show more than a decade later. Somehow, his skills deteriorated as his career progressed.

Whenever Gu Zhi thought of him, he recalled that inexplicably sinister smile, seemingly thoughtful yet sickening—sending chills down his spine.

He could not help but think Xiao Ming Huang and his angelic “big baby” were a match made in heaven.

For reasons unknown even to himself, Gu Zhi firmly eliminated Xiao Ming Huang.

Ning Hao thought he was too handsome and would distract the audience from the plot, and likewise vetoed him.

On the female lead side, Hai Bo Huang’s classmate Qing Hai auditioned as well, but her mature appearance did not fit the role, so she was cut.

Yao Chen, a freshman, came too—destined to be the future queen of Weibo and one of the country’s earliest prominent public figures. She was also Gu Zhi’s least favorite and most detested actress, notorious for her many misdeeds.

Gu Zhi resolved to someday criticize her into oblivion.

Yao Chen, whose acting was too flamboyant, was also rejected by Ning Hao.

Thus, not a single lead was chosen, and the Film Academy auditions concluded.

Today, they found themselves at the Experimental Theater, continuing with students from the Central Academy of Drama.

Gu Zhi sat in the front row, glancing back to see most of the theater’s seats filled, among them many future stars.

One by one, students took the stage to perform; the turnout was so large that the three judges did not move from their seats for half a day.

“Hello, Director. Hello, Student Gu. My name is Chao Deng, a sophomore at the Central Academy of Drama.”

Yet another familiar face to Gu Zhi stood before them.

The previous auditionees had struggled with how to address Gu Zhi, so he simply placed a nameplate reading “Student Gu” in front of him, following a reporter’s earlier convention.

“Hello, Director. Hello, Student Gu. My name is Zhu Yuchen…”

“…My name is Wu Yue…”

Li Zonghan, Qin Hailu, Zhang Jingchu, Chen Sicheng, Zhang Luyi—one after another, familiar yet unfamiliar faces flashed before Gu Zhi’s eyes.

For the first time, he came face to face with so many stars. At that moment, he had only one thought:

“So they all graduated from the Central Academy of Drama…”

None of these people had yet starred in any notable works. Gu Zhi knew they would become famous, but to Ning Hao, they were just ordinary college students like himself.

Ning Hao, unimpressed, dismissed them one by one—either their look was wrong, or their acting too forced. To him, they all had glaring flaws.

Ning Hao was the director, and Gu Zhi respected his judgment. The auditions continued.

“Next.”

Liu Qi called lazily from the side.

She had completely forgotten her supervisory duties, buried in her novel for half the day.

If she had a smartphone, Gu Zhi was sure she would never have looked up.

“Hello, Director. My name is Wei Tang. I’ve just been admitted to the Central Academy of Drama, and will formally enroll in September. I wonder if I’m eligible to audition?”

A young woman of elegant appearance and gentle demeanor stepped onto the stage, like a student from the Republican era—graceful and poised, neither timid nor arrogant.

Standing before everyone, her air of refinement instantly captivated the entire theater; even Liu Qi unconsciously set aside her copy of “Three Gates,” looking up in attention.

Under the gaze of all, she showed no sign of nervousness or fear; instead, she lifted her chin slightly, took a half-step forward, and faced everything with calm composure.

Her tranquil eyes swept swiftly over Liu Qi and Ning Hao, finally resting on Gu Zhi’s delicate face.

Suddenly, she smiled, and at that instant, the whole theater seemed brighter.

“Hello, Student Gu. I am a devoted fan of your books.”