Seeking good fortune and avoiding misfortune, I became a legend in the entertainment industry by avo

Chapter 154 Signing a Contract with the Production Team of "1911 Revolution"

After Zhang Li finished reciting her lines, her smile remained, and she adjusted her posture in the chair.

He had been through countless interviews like this and was already very familiar with them.

In order to avoid putting pressure on Zhang Qilin and affecting his performance.

He even deliberately toned down the aura he had developed over his many years as a director.

Several media outlets also pointed their cameras at Zhang Qilin, wanting to see how he would respond to this line.

Zhang Qilin, who was standing in the center of the room, just kept his head down and didn't say anything for a long time.

Ten seconds, then twenty seconds passed—

The room fell silent.

The reporters in the room couldn't help but exchange glances, all of them feeling puzzled.

Why hasn't Zhang Qilin said his lines yet after all this time?

Was it because he was too nervous and forgot his lines?

Only Zhang Li, who was sitting, did not show the slightest impatience.

He looked at Zhang Qilin, who was a few steps away, with great interest.

He is waiting.

They were also secretly speculating.

As the most promising newcomer at Beijing People's Art Theatre this year, which performance style will he choose?

Half a minute later, Zhang Qilin raised his head.

With just this one movement, the smile on Zhang Li's face vanished instantly.

Zhang Qilin stood there, his back ramrod straight, like a javelin planted there.

The look in his eyes was no longer Zhang Qilin's.

If Zhang Qilin's gaze was gentle and humble before, it also carried the restraint of a young man.

His eyes were too clean at that moment.

All impurities, concerns, and ego are stripped away, leaving only a near-transparent purity.

That's the look in the eyes of a newborn calf.

They were ignorant of the immensity of heaven and earth, and fearless of gods and ghosts.

It was so clear it was almost scorching.

Zhang Li has seen the eyes of countless actors.

Some are fierce, some are affectionate, some are sinister, and some are insane.

He had never seen eyes like that in real life before.

That was a ray of light.

A light that shines into people's hearts without flinching or retreating.

Those with slightly weaker wills wouldn't even dare to look him in the eye.

Because being looked at by those eyes will make you feel ashamed of yourself.

Zhang Li realized this.

Zhang Qilin's gaze wasn't that of someone fully immersed in a role.

Zhang Li had seen that kind of thing many times. The actors would stand there, furrow their brows, and fix their eyes, telling you they were in character.

That's a skill, a performance, a way to fool those who don't know the ropes.

But Zhang Qilin was different; the way he stood there, his eyes seemed to see right through people's hearts.

This made him, someone who had spent half his life in the industry, instinctively want to look away.

He certainly didn't move it.

At this moment, Zhang Qilin had a faint smile on his lips, not a mocking smile, but a genuine expression of bewilderment.

He spoke, his voice low but each word clear: "Zhang Mingqi, why are you hiding in the shadows? What are you afraid of?"

Upon hearing this question, Zhang Li couldn't help but tremble.

He has seen all sorts of performance styles.

But at this moment, Zhang Qilin didn't seem to be acting to him.

And that is him.

This isn't an actor reciting lines; this is a young man issuing a question.

I'm standing here now, I have nothing but my life.

You command thousands of troops and control the entire court, so what are you doing hiding in the shadows? What do you have to be afraid of?

Zhang Li subconsciously sat up straight.

The director's aura, cultivated over many years, unconsciously emanated from him, not to command the scene, but as an instinctive counterattack.

He needed to use this momentum to counter the youthful passion and sharpness unique to Zhang Qilin.

But he—couldn't hold it in.

The surrounding reporters also quieted down, their eyes wide open behind their cameras.

They had seen countless actors perform their hearts out just to win the director's favor, but they had never seen anything like this.

The director at the audition was overshadowed by the actor.

Behind him, the assistant director whispered a reminder: "Director Zhang—"

Zhang Licai finally realized what was happening.

He began reciting his line: "What am I afraid of?"

He regretted it as soon as he finished speaking.

too weak.

Under Zhang Qilin's gaze, this rhetorical question seemed so pale, so—full of guilt.

"You're afraid of my youth," Zhang Qilin's lips twitched, but it wasn't a smile; it was an all-knowing understanding and contempt. "I chose death, but I'm still young. You may be alive, but you're already old."

He didn't stop after he finished speaking.

His gaze swept over everyone present.

It felt as if I were truly in an interrogation room from a hundred years ago.

It wasn't just Zhang Mingqi we were facing, but also those numb, complacent, and conservative souls.

Have you read "Evolution and Ethics"?

His voice was not loud, but slightly raised, carrying a hint of sincere doubt.

It's as if they're asking, "Do you people even know what's happening in this world?"

"Survival of the fittest".

He uttered those four words with a solemn tone, each word striking a chord deep within the heart.

Then, his voice took on a cold tinge, not out of admiration for the great powers, but as a statement of a bloody fact: "Which of the world's great powers today did not rise to power through revolution? How can China not yearn for revolution?"

Zhang Li looked at Zhang Qilin standing there.

In a daze, he felt that the man was not a young man in his early twenties.

It was a person standing on the edge of a cliff, pointing to the abyss below and saying to the people behind him:

If you don't leave now, you'll fall.

There was no fear or even urgency in his emotions, only a sense of pity that said, "I have already seen the ending, and you are still kept in the dark."

Zhang Qilin's speech quickened, his eyes burning with fervor: "As Mr. Sun Yat-sen said, China's weakness has reached an irreparable point today. The royal family, nobles, and officials are conservative and clinging to old ways, engaging in empty rhetoric and pretense. And what about the common people?"

He took a deep breath, his tone filled with compassion: "They are all just trying to survive, ignorant and foolish. The great nation of China is despised by other nations and looked down upon by foreign races."

After the last sentence, the room became so quiet you could hear someone breathing.

The reporters' hands, holding their cameras, froze in mid-air; they forgot to press the shutter.

They felt a tingling sensation shoot up from their tailbone and spread throughout their entire body along their spine.

That's not watching a performance.

They seemed to be listening to a powerful and inspiring speech.

A moment later, someone with quick reflexes zoomed in with the camera, capturing the subtle changes in Zhang Qilin's facial expression.

Zhang Li sat stiffly in the chair, remaining silent for a long time.

Looking at Zhang Qilin before him, he seemed to see the young man from a hundred years ago in the interrogation room, denouncing the Qing court and facing death without fear.

Zhang Qilin stood there, as if he were Lin Juemin, and Lin Juemin was him.

The shock he felt overwhelmed him.

It's not just a resemblance in form, but a resemblance in spirit, a harmony at the level of soul.

At that moment, Zhang Li forgot that she was auditioning and that there were media around her. She felt as if she were really looking into the eyes of a revolutionary from a hundred years ago.

That sense of awe and shock was something he had never experienced in his decades-long directing career.

The silence lasted for a few seconds.

Several media outlets, still eager for more, urged Zhang Li, "Director Zhang, hurry up and get to your lines!"

Zhang Li jumped up, waving his hands at the media outlets, his tone quick and urgent: "Stop filming! Stop filming! If you keep filming, you'll leak all the best parts of my movie! How am I supposed to release it then?"

His tone was urgent, but the barely suppressed smile in the corner of his eye betrayed his true feelings.

One of the media outlets joked, "Fine, if you don't want us to film the back, then let Zhang Qilin stand there, and we'll get more angles—"

Before the reporter could finish speaking, Zhang Li immediately objected: "We can't film anymore. What are we going to use in our promotional video?"

Several media outlets also decided to call it a day while they were ahead.

They refocused the camera on Zhang Li, knowing that something more important was about to happen.

Zhang Qilin remained standing in the same spot.

The light in those eyes was gradually fading, replaced by the humility and shyness that a young person should have.

"You—" Zhang Li looked at Zhang Qilin, who had returned to normal, "What were you thinking just now?"

Zhang Qilin was taken aback: "What?"

"What were you thinking when you were building up your emotions just now?" Zhang Li explained.

Zhang Qilin fell silent.

He couldn't tell the truth; he couldn't very well say that, through immersing himself in the role, he experienced how Lin Juemin vehemently denounced the corrupt Qing court and felt compassion for the common people.

His mind raced as he carefully chose his words: "I'm thinking, if I were really standing in that interrogation room, facing Qing officials, would I be afraid?"

"and then?"

"Then I figured it out," Zhang Qilin raised his head, "I'm not Lin Juemin, I don't know if I'll be afraid, but I can convince myself that if I were him, I shouldn't be afraid."

Zhang Li was very satisfied with this answer; this is exactly what Beijing People's Art Theatre has always insisted on: experiencing the characters in a lifelike and personality-driven way.

He hadn't expected that Zhang Qilin, at such a young age, would already be able to master this method so skillfully.

Zhang Li looked at Zhang Qilin in front of him, and the more he looked, the more excited he became.

He never expected that the person who greeted him would bring him such a treasure.

He suddenly felt a pang of regret.

If he had known that Zhang Qilin could portray Lin Juemin so vividly, he should have discussed with the screenwriter to add more scenes for the character, giving Lin Juemin a more complete narrative arc.

Although it's a bit too late now, we have to find a way to add another game no matter what.

Otherwise, it would be a waste of such talent.

At this moment, a reporter nearby whispered a reminder: "Director Zhang, it's time to sign the contract."

Zhang Li then came to her senses.

He turned to the assistant director, his tone impatient: "What about the actors' contracts?"

The assistant director was already prepared, pulling the contract out of the folder and handing it over.

Zhang Li took it, and when she turned to face Zhang Qilin, her expression had changed to a kinder one.

It wasn't the director's kindness towards the actors, but the undisguised smile of someone who had found a treasure.

"Qilin," he handed the contract to Zhang Qilin, "Your performance this time was excellent, exactly the Lin Juemin we've been looking for. This is the performance contract, take a look, and sign it if there are no problems."

Zhang Qilin took the contract, glanced at it, picked up a pen, and signed his name directly on the last page.

The media reporters nearby recorded the whole scene.

In the video, Zhang Li couldn't suppress the smile on her face.

After signing the papers, a reporter suggested, "Director Zhang, how about we take a photo together?"

Just as Zhang Li was about to agree, a voice suddenly came from the doorway: "Hey, why is it so lively here?"

Everyone looked in the direction of the sound.

Brother Long peeked inside, his face full of curiosity.