Entertainment Industry: I am a top-tier movie star

Three seconds later, Chen Nianbei opened her eyes.

For a moment, the air in the classroom seemed to freeze.

It's no exaggeration; some people really gasped.

Because his eyes changed.

He transformed from a student who always had a friendly smile into the eldest son of the Zhou family in "Thunderstorm," struggling under the weight of oppression.

It wasn't about makeup or clothing; it was just that one look in her eyes.

Empty, weary, with a deep-seated restlessness that is about to burst forth.

He raised his hand, not in a dramatic way, but in an extremely everyday detail.

He pinched the space between his eyebrows with his fingers, as if there were a taut string there that might snap at any moment.

Then he turned to face the empty chair.

That was his "Fan Yi".

"You're here again."

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Chen Nianbei spoke, his voice not loud, but every word was so clear it could penetrate one's ears.

It's not reciting lines, it's saying lines.

His tone carried a weary helplessness, and a hint of barely perceptible fear.

He was afraid of this woman's appearance, afraid of the emotions she brought that he didn't want to face.

Wang Hao sat in the front row, his eyes fixed on the ground.

He knows this scene so well; he's practiced it countless times on his own.

But Chen Nianbei's approach to it... was completely different from his.

When he played Zhou Ping, he would deliberately show the frustration of being harassed, his tone would be more aggressive, and his movements would be more exaggerated.

But Chen Nianbei is not.

Chen Nianbei's irritability was internalized.

On the surface, it even seemed calm, but beneath that calm was a suppressed feeling that was about to burst forth.

It's like a pot of boiling water with the lid tightly pressed down, only wisps of white steam escaping from the cracks.

"I've said it many times."

Chen Nianbei continued, her voice lower than before, as if she were suppressing something.

"We...shouldn't see each other again."

When he said the word "shouldn't have," the tip of his tongue lightly touched the roof of his mouth. It was an extremely subtle movement, but Teacher Li, who was sitting in the front row, saw it.

That's a subconscious reaction when someone lies.

Zhou Ping is lying.

When he says "shouldn't," he doesn't really think it's wrong, but rather he's forcing himself to believe it's wrong.

Teacher Li's pen stopped on the notebook.

She leaned forward slightly.

The expressions of the other students in the classroom also began to change.

Those who had initially come with a spectator's mentality gradually sat up straight.

Those who were scrutinizing him had a more serious look in their eyes.

Chen Nianbei took a step forward.

It's not a big step, but a very small half-step, with the heel landing first and then the ball of the foot.

That was the hesitation of wanting to get closer yet forcing oneself to stop.

"Please let me go."

When he said this, he didn't look at "Fanyi" but looked out the window.

But his eyes were unfocused, as if he were looking at something far away, or as if he wasn't looking at anything at all.

His voice carried an almost pleading weariness, but within that pleading lay a certain selfishness.

He wasn't really thinking of Fanyi's best interests; he was pleading for himself.

He begged the woman to let him go and allow him to continue his cowardly, escapist life.

Naza's heart raced.

She recalled the look in Chen Nianbei's eyes when he was pinned to the church floor on the film set in Huairou.

At that time, he was filled with humiliation, anger, and resentment.

He is now Zhou Ping—cowardly, selfish, and pathetic.

They are completely different people.

But the sense of realism, the sense of realism that makes the audience hold their breath, is exactly the same.

Chen Nianbei suddenly smiled.

It wasn't a happy laugh; it was a short, self-deprecating laugh that was uglier than crying.

"I know I've wronged you."

He said he finally turned his head and looked at "Fanyi".

"But what can I do?"

When Wang Hao himself performed this line, he conveyed a strong sense of self-blame and pain.

But Chen Nianbei is not.

Chen Nianbei's tone contained only three parts self-blame, and the remaining seven parts were the kind of shirking of responsibility that said, "There's nothing I can do about it now."

There was even a hint of... self-righteousness.

It's like saying: I'm sorry, but I have no choice, so please don't force me.

This treatment makes Zhou Ping's hateful aspects unmistakable.

But it also makes the character more realistic.

Humans are such complex creatures; when they do something wrong, they don't simply feel guilty, but always find reasons to excuse themselves.

The classroom was eerily quiet.

Some people have forgotten that this is a classroom casting call, as if they are really in the oppressive living room of the Zhou family, watching this man and woman entangled by fate.

Chen Nianbei took half a step back.

This is a crucial move.

In the script, at this point, Fanyi should step forward and press him for answers.

Therefore, Chen Nianbei's retreat was both a physical reaction and a reflection of his psychology.

He wanted to escape.

"Don't come any closer."

He said his voice suddenly turned cold, but there was a hint of weakness in it.

"If you come any closer, I'll call for help."

He said it very quickly, almost blurting it out, and then he was stunned for a moment, as if he was frightened by his own words.

Then his expression changed.

His feigned indifference turned into panic, and a hint of shame.

I felt ashamed that I had actually said something like "call for help," like a bullied child.

This is yet another detail not included in the script.

Teacher Li's hand trembled slightly.

She was writing something quickly in her notebook, the pen tip almost tearing through the paper.

Chen Nianbei lowered her head and looked at her hands.

His hands were shaking.

It wasn't a large tremor, but a subtle, slight tremor in the fingertips.

He looked at his hands, his eyes filled with disgust—disgust at himself, yet powerless to change it.

This pause is very long.

It lasted a full five seconds.

No one spoke, no one moved, and no one even coughed in the classroom.

Everyone was caught up in this pause.

That wasn't blank; it was a full, dynamic silence.

Then Chen Nianbei raised her head.

This time, his eyes had completely changed.

From previous repression, cowardice, and escapism, it turned into a near-collapse of resolute determination.

"Okay, I'll tell the truth."

His voice suddenly became calm, eerily calm.

"I don't love you, I never have."

He spoke slowly, each word like a stone striking the ground.

"Those words...those promises...were all lies to you."

He was stunned as soon as he finished speaking.

As if stunned by his own words, or as if he had finally let out the words he had been holding back for a long time, he felt a sense of relief, as if he had just collapsed.

But the relief lasted only a moment.

The next second, fear surged up.

He looked at "Fanyi" with fear in his eyes.

I fear her reaction, I fear the consequences of this, I fear everything that could get out of control.

"So... please,"

His voice softened again, trembling with a sob, but there were no tears in it, only a dry plea.

"Let me go, and let yourself go too."

As he finished speaking, he turned around, his back to "Fanyi".

The shoulders slumped, not in a relaxed state, but in a complete collapse, a surrender of all resistance.

He stood there, his back to everyone, motionless.

The classroom remained quiet.

The sunlight streaming in through the window cast a long shadow on him.

The shadow trembled slightly on the floor.

I don't know how much time passed, maybe only ten seconds, maybe half a minute.

Chen Nianbei's shoulders slowly straightened.

He turned around, his face now calm.

He bowed slightly and said, "My performance is over."

After he finished speaking, no one in the classroom said a word.

Everyone was still immersed in the scene they had just witnessed.

Wang Hao stared wide-eyed, his mouth agape, as the pen he was holding fell to the ground with a thud.

He himself didn't realize it.

He had only one thought in his mind: Is this Chen Nianbei?

Is that Chen Nianbei who can't even deliver her lines properly and can't remember her movements?

He was just thinking of comforting this guy, "Practice more in the future?"

Who really needs comforting whom? Turns out, I'm the clown!

Wang Hao wailed inwardly.

Naza quietly breathed a sigh of relief; his palms were sweaty.

Looking at the expressions of her classmates, she felt an indescribable sense of joy.

It was like finally letting out a breath you'd been holding for a long time.

See? She thought to herself, I told you he's different now.

Teacher Li took off her glasses and slowly wiped them.

Her hands were steady, but she wiped for a long time.

Then she put on her glasses, looked at Chen Nianbei, and stared at him for a full five seconds.

"Sit down," she said, her voice a little hoarse.

Chen Nianbei walked back to her seat.

As he passed by Wang Hao, Wang Hao subconsciously looked up at him, his eyes filled with an extremely complex expression.

Shock, admiration, confusion, and a little bit of... disappointment.

Chen Nianbei smiled at him; the smile was faint, but sincere.

There was no boasting, no pride, as if the stunning performance just now wasn't his doing.

Wang Hao paused for a moment, then smiled, a smile tinged with bitterness, but mostly one of relief.

He suddenly realized that some gaps cannot be bridged by hard work alone.

That's a kind of... talent.

No, it's not just about talent.

There was something else he couldn't understand, something that seemed to settle down after experiencing a lot.

But Chen Nianbei is only twenty years old.

Wang Hao shook his head, banishing these thoughts, and looked back at the podium.

Teacher Li has regained her composure.

She opened her notebook and cleared her throat: "Next, number thirteen..."

Casting continues.

But during the rest of the performance, everyone seemed a bit distracted.

Including the performers themselves.

The scene with Chen Nianbei just now was like a boulder being thrown into a calm lake, and the ripples are still spreading.

Everyone is subconsciously comparing themselves to others.

Compare your own performance to the performance you just gave.

Then we have to admit the fact that we are not on the same level.

It's not a matter of good or bad, it's a matter of perspective.

It's like the difference between a primary school student's essay and a famous writer's prose.

Teacher Li clearly sensed this atmosphere as well.

She sped up the pace, and the subsequent performance critiques became much shorter.

An hour later, all the auditions were over.

Teacher Li closed her notebook, looked up, and scanned the classroom.

Finally, it stopped on Chen Nianbei, lingered for a few seconds, and then moved away.

"Today's casting showed me everyone's progress."

She said her tone was gentler than usual.

"Some students, in particular, surprised me."

When she said "some classmates," her gaze drifted toward Chen Nianbei.

Everyone understood.

"I will decide on the role assignments based on today's performance and usual grades, and I will announce them tomorrow."