Chapter Eleven: The Audition

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A special thanks to "Home is not as good as the wild" for the tip to Black Car—this is the very first tip for the new book, truly grateful!

The basketball court at Yanjing Film Academy was bustling with people. Though it was an arts college, there was no shortage of basketball enthusiasts. Wu Xiang was currently sitting on the sidelines; it wasn’t that he didn’t want to play, but his height gave him such an advantage that, after blocking several shots, he was practically forced to take a break.

It was already June 1998, and Wu Xiang had been studying at the Film Academy for nearly a year. Having been reborn, he understood deeply that a strong body was the foundation of all endeavors. He paid particular attention to physical fitness, as evidenced by how he would bring food to his classmate Huang Yi—one could even say he was a bit obsessed. But, as it turned out, the results were fantastic. He had changed a lot; at the very least, he was no longer the frail figure he once was. Wu Xiang now was the very picture of robust masculinity.

“Xiangzi, are you free tomorrow?” Brother Kun had stopped playing after a while too. To be honest, the basketball skills at the Film Academy were rather mediocre.

“I’m free,” Wu Xiang replied offhandedly.

“Good. How about I treat you to dinner tomorrow night?” Chen Kun’s words came as a surprise.

“Oh?” Wu Xiang immediately suspected something was up. Brother Kun was not known for such generosity. “Something good must have happened! Did you finally win over that girl? Come on, spill it…”

“Get lost!” Chen Kun laughed and cursed, then grinned. “But, actually, something good did happen.”

“Really?” Wu Xiang had mostly guessed as much, but he decided to play along, feigning innocence.

“I finally got my chance! A director wants me to audition! And not just any director—it’s the famous Zhao Baogang! They said Director Zhao decided after seeing my photo!” Chen Kun could hardly contain himself, his signature raised eyebrows reaching their peak.

“Really?” This time, Wu Xiang was genuinely happy for his senior.

“Really!” Chen Kun’s face was all smiles.

“I told you you’d make it, didn’t I?”

“Yeah! Haha…”

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“That’s fantastic!” Wu Xiang thought for a moment and said, “Tell you what, Brother Kun, trust me, this time you’re definitely going to make it big. Dinner’s on me tomorrow.”

“How could I let you do that?” Chen Kun was embarrassed.

“Why not? It’s settled! I’ll bring the guys along and we’ll have a great time! No need to be polite with me. Besides, when you’re a big star, just look after your little brother, alright?” Wu Xiang’s tone was joking, but he was truly happy for his friend. Sometimes a man just had to be generous.

“Quanjude then, it’s settled!” Wu Xiang said as he ducked into Room 307.

“Alright!” Chen Kun didn’t argue further. In truth, he was a little moved.

This was a friendship worth having.

Chen Kun’s family wasn’t well-off, otherwise he wouldn’t be singing at bars or considering becoming a decorator. Wu Xiang knew this, more or less, and by now he himself had some means.

Wu Xiang’s bootleg version of “First Intimate Contact” had become a hit—something he had anticipated. The internet had only been in China for a few years, and this was the perfect time to release a novel like that. Moreover, the original was a pioneering work in online romance fiction. Wu Xiang had meticulously adapted it for readers across the mainland, Hong Kong, and Taiwan; it would have been strange if it hadn’t taken off.

Truth be told, the earlier version of the novel was too steeped in Taiwanese slang and humor—understood only by those fluent in the dialect, and not well suited to readers in the mainland or Cantonese-speaking regions. Wu Xiang, being a wordsmith, understood these shortcomings and worked hard to address them in his adaptation.

In less than a year, the publisher had reprinted the novel multiple times. It had appeared on the mainland bestseller lists several times, and both the simplified and traditional character editions were selling well. Wu Xiang’s wallet was growing fatter by the day. Yet, even with money, he remained stingy; he hadn’t even replaced his pager, nor would he splurge on brand-name shorts. Adidas and the like? Wu Xiang still thought they were too expensive.

The reason was simple: he treated his earnings as a fund for making films—something that would determine his future. He would not waste it lightly. Today, however, was different; this was for a good friend.

When it came to making films, Wu Xiang’s plans had hit a snag: the lead actress. He had initially chosen classmate Huang Yi, but now, he had all but given up on that.

When you see a female classmate striding around with two giant thermoses in hand, slapping boys on the back and calling them “brother” with a swagger to rival any guy, do you really think this is the gentle heroine of “Lightly Dancing in the Breeze”?

When your dorm room door is suddenly and innocently kicked open, followed by a loud command to wake up for rehearsal, and a demand for your filthy clothes and socks, do you still think this is “Lightly Dancing in the Breeze”?

When classmate Huang Yanbo complains to Wu Xiang that his pants were pulled down in front of the whole class, and he tried to retaliate only to be caught red-handed by teacher Huang Sanshi—do you think that female tyrant is the character from “Lightly Dancing in the Breeze”?

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One morning, when Wu Xiang went out for a jog, he saw Huang Yi caught on the wall while climbing over, her pants snagged and her whole body hanging there. At that moment, his dreams shattered completely!

He once saw Huang Yi as a lotus blossom, but now she was something much stranger.

The girl who once seemed so full of promise, as ethereal as a lotus flower, had vanished. Perhaps she had never truly existed; maybe she just hadn’t gotten to know them well back then. The one left was now absolutely a tough girl—one who could probably run a horse across her fists!

Once, when everyone had had a bit too much to drink, Lin Jidong broke down and confessed to Wu Xiang how sorry he was for what he’d done to his brothers. Wu Xiang, internally, could only howl: Huang Yi, your fighting spirit is too much...

All in all, Wu Xiang simply couldn’t judge people—at least not actors. Therefore, he had to recast this crucial female lead, which meant the film’s production costs might rise. Better to save up some more royalties before moving forward.

Brother Kun was about to make it big. Wu Xiang shared the news with his roommates in 307, and they were all delighted—especially since Wu Xiang was treating them to Quanjude’s famous duck, which was delicious, albeit expensive. They were finally getting their chance.

So, the next day, the eight “wolves” of Room 307 gathered at Quanjude, waiting for the guest of honor, Chen Kun...

Time ticked by.

“Xiangzi, aren’t you going to check on Brother Kun?” Wang Hongzhi, who had already drunk four pots of tea since arriving at the private room in Quanjude, asked.

They had started out drinking tea, but pot after pot, even the usually tight-fisted Wu Xiang felt his heart ache—this stuff cost money! He could barely bring himself to buy a new pair of shorts, yet a few pots of tea had already cost him a sizable bill!

“Yeah, Xiangzi, not to jinx it, but could something have happened to Brother Kun?” Huang Yanbo was growing restless too—he was young, but he’d already made two trips to the bathroom. If this kept up...

Wu Xiang was getting worried as well. They had actually arrived quite late—at six, and now it was eight o’clock. Could something really have happened?

“Alright, I’ll call and check.” Wu Xiang went to borrow the restaurant’s phone and dialed Chen Kun’s pager.

Once, twice, three times... Wu Xiang left message after message. Another hour passed. It was nearly ten!

Had something really happened?