Huayu: Starting from joining the mainstream entertainment industry in 96

Chapter 248, Section 246: The Noblewoman of Qingdao

It was exactly 2 PM.

Jingxin Building.

The artist practice room of Shengying Media has been set up as an audition location.

At this moment, the door to the practice room was pushed open, and Wu Yiyi walked in first, followed by a young man dressed simply, even somewhat rustically.

He wore a blue short-sleeved shirt, inappropriate khaki trousers, and sneakers of unknown brand. He looked travel-worn and seemed out of place in the glamorous environment of the Jingxin Building.

This person was Huang Bo.

He was darker and thinner than he looked in the photo, with obvious tension on his face, but his small eyes revealed a cleverness and a respectful attempt to conceal his nervousness.

As soon as he entered, he bowed slightly and greeted us in Mandarin with a distinct Qingdao accent: "Hello Director Wang, hello Director Wu! I am Huang Bo."

Accent is definitely a problem; the moment someone opens their mouth, that distinct regional accent hits you right away.

"Hello, please have a seat." Wang Sheng glanced at the elegant lady from Qingdao, gestured to the chair opposite her, and spoke in a calm, unhurried tone.

Huang Bo sat down somewhat awkwardly, placing his hands on his knees and sitting up straight.

Wang Sheng didn't waste any time on pleasantries and went straight to the point: "I've looked at your materials, and Director Wu recommended you to me. I have a few clips here. Take a look at the audition script, prepare for ten minutes, and then act them out for me."

He handed over the two printed pages of the script.

The first scene is Chen Mo in his rented room, after failing to find a job again. He stares blankly at the gray sky outside the window, preparing to swallow sleeping pills. There are no lines; the scene relies entirely on his eyes and body language to convey his extreme despair and numbness.

The second part is a bit special. It's in Chen Mo's "dream" that he's being pestered by the gluttonous and naughty little boy "Brother" to eat the fried noodles at the street corner shop that's already closed.

Chen Mo initially showed impatience and perfunctoriness, but later was moved by the boy's pure eyes, feeling a tenderness and impulse that she herself couldn't understand, and decided to find a way to fulfill his "wish." This passage contains simple dialogue, but more importantly, it requires subtle changes in emotional nuances.

Huang Bo took the script with both hands as if it were a precious treasure, and nodded vigorously: "Okay, Director Wang, I'll get ready right away."

He immediately lowered his head, immersing himself completely in the script, his lips moving slightly as he silently recited his lines, his fingers unconsciously gesturing gestures.

His focus and dedication were completely different from the nervousness he had shown when he entered the room.

Wang Sheng and Wu Yi did not disturb him, but simply observed him quietly.

Ten minutes passed quickly.

"Can we begin?" Wang Sheng asked.

Huang Bo took a deep breath, stood up, and walked to the middle of the practice room: "That's enough, Director Wang."

He first performed the first segment.

He walked to the corner of the wall, his back to Wang Sheng and Wu Yiyi, his shoulders slumped slightly, as if all his energy had been drained away in an instant.

He slowly turned around, his face devoid of any exaggerated expression, but his small eyes were filled with despondency and emptiness, as if he had lost interest in everything in the world.

He made a gesture of pouring medicine from a bottle, his fingers trembling slightly, his eyes staring blankly into the void, and then slowly brought the "pill" to his lips... Throughout the entire process, there was not a single line of dialogue, yet he conveyed an extreme sense of despair through subtle gestures and glances.

Wang Sheng nodded slightly. This performance was more restrained than he had expected, and it was more in line with Chen Mo's state of "nothing is more sorrowful than a broken heart" in the early stages.

Next is the second paragraph. Huang Bo adjusted his state, and his face immediately changed to an impatient and somewhat irritable expression, as if he had been worn down by life. He waved his hand at the air (the hypothetical little boy): "Stop messing around, that shop has been closed for a long time, where am I going to get you some noodles with soybean paste?"

He tried to get around it, but the "little boy" wouldn't give up.

Huang Bo stopped and looked down at the "little boy," his brows furrowed. But the irritation in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by a complex emotion—helplessness, a dazed feeling of being touched, and a trace of long-lost tenderness that he himself was unaware of.

He crouched down (even though there was no one in front of him), his voice softening, a little hoarse and uncertain: "...Do you really want to eat that much?"

He remained silent for a few seconds, as if engaged in a fierce internal struggle, before finally standing up as if he had made up his mind. His tone carried a sense of resignation mixed with a strange ease: "Fine! You win! I'll figure something out!"

From extreme impatience to being touched, and finally making a firm decision, although there are still some immaturity and traces, the emotional logic is sound, especially the unique stubbornness and soft heart of the lower-class people, which he captured very accurately.

After the performance, Huang Bo stood there somewhat nervously, waiting for the judges.

Wang Sheng didn't speak immediately, but tapped his fingers lightly on the table.

The practice room was quiet, with only the faint sound of the air conditioner running.

Huang Bo's heart was in his throat. He knew his appearance and accent were major flaws, and he didn't know if his performance had caught the eye of this young big shot.

Finally, Wang Sheng spoke. He didn't comment on the performance just now, but asked: "Suppose there's no script. Here's a scenario: You're a struggling artist in Beijing, living in a damp basement. You finally get a chance to run errands for a big film crew, but you accidentally lose the items, and the director berates you mercilessly in front of the entire crew."

You return to the basement, exhausted and hungry, with only two dollars left, enough to buy just one steamed bun. How would you act that?

This is an impromptu scenario that is closer to a situation that Huang Bo might have actually experienced.

Huang Bo was stunned for a moment, then his eyes lit up.

Without much thought, he moved almost instinctively.

He hunched slightly, as if bearing an invisible weight, and staggered back to the "basement" (the corner of the practice room).

He slid slowly down the wall to the ground, his head down, his expression unreadable, but the slight trembling of his shoulders and the suppressed, tearful gasp were more heartbreaking than any loud wailing.

He raised his sleeve, wiped his face hard, and then took out the "only two yuan left" from his "pocket," clutching it in his palm until his knuckles turned white.

Instead of buying steamed buns, he buried his head deep in his knees, curling up into a ball like an injured animal licking its wounds alone.

Without a single line of dialogue, it vividly portrays the despair and struggle of a desperate, humiliated, and helpless lower-class person.

Wang Sheng looked at the young man curled up on the ground and a hint of barely perceptible admiration flashed in his eyes.

"Okay, that's enough," Wang Sheng said.

Huang Bo quickly got up from the ground, patted his pants somewhat embarrassedly, and looked nervously at Wang Sheng.

Wang Sheng said to Wu Yiyi, "Director Wu, take him out to rest for a bit. I need to have a few more words with the casting director."

“Okay, Mr. Wang.” Wu Yiyi gestured for Huang Bo to leave with him.

Before leaving, Huang Bo bowed respectfully to Wang Sheng again, his eyes filled with anticipation and unease.

(End of this chapter)