After the divorce, he took care of his child and sold fried rice; his ex-wife was filled with regret

Director Zhang looked at Ye Wanxing and said, "You should know the intensity of this film."

"The real desert scenery, the heavy armor weighing dozens of kilograms, and the fact that you have to ride a horse and wield a sword. This isn't one of those fantasy dramas where you just stand in front of a green screen and enjoy the breeze."

Director Zhang stared into Ye Wanxing's eyes.

"You were sweating profusely and out of breath after reciting just a few lines before. Even if you recovered today by going to the hospital for an IV drip, how long can you hold out when it comes to the real action on set? My film can't gamble with the lead actor's health."

The investor representative sitting next to him chimed in at the opportune moment. He adjusted his glasses, speaking politely, but his underlying arrogance was even more pronounced.

"Teacher Ye, Director Zhang is right. Once filming starts, the crew will be burning through millions of dollars a day. As investors, risk control is our top priority."

"Of course, we greatly appreciate your professionalism, but if your body really can't handle these high-intensity action scenes, forcing yourself to do it won't do anyone any good."

The bespectacled man paused for a moment, then revealed his final trump card:

"So, just to be on the safe side, we've also invited Ms. Zhao Siqi over today. She's in the next lounge; she has a background in martial arts."

The moment those words were spoken, the atmosphere in the meeting room plummeted to freezing point.

The investors have called all the backup candidates to wait next door, which is tantamount to holding a knife to their throats. It's obvious that if they're not satisfied with anyone even slightly today, they'll replace them on the spot.

Sister Hui panicked, her palms sweating profusely. She quickly stepped forward to shield Ye Wanxing from the side, forcing a smile as she pleaded:

"Gentlemen, Director Zhang, Wanxing has done a lot of preparation for this role, and has even filled half a script with annotations. Since everyone is here today, shouldn't we give him a trial run to see how he performs? Consider it an opportunity."

A brief silence fell over the meeting room.

Five investors, dressed in suits, sat around a large conference table.

Director Zhang sat in the main seat, a cigarette between his fingers, his brows furrowed, his face ashen.

The investors exchanged glances, but no one immediately spoke up.

The bespectacled investor representative sighed. These days, popular celebrities are all so delicate; even the slightest bump or bruise requires them to stop working and go to the hospital, let alone perform such demanding period dramas.

Ye Wanxing's shaky appearance earlier made him really uneasy.

If she were to join the crew and frequently fall ill and take leave, hundreds of crew members would have to stop working every day to wait for her, which would cost a lot of real money.

In contrast, the substitute actress with martial arts skills sitting in the next lounge, although less popular, is tough and resilient, and unlikely to cause any trouble.

The attitudes of several investors have clearly begun to shift.

Just when Sister Hui felt hopeless and was preparing to continue to humbly try to win back her love,

"Director Zhang, my poor performance at the reading session the day before yesterday was my own fault."

A clear, steady female voice rang out in the conference room.

Ye Wanxing stood up and gently pulled Hui Jie, who was blocking her way, aside.

Instead of hiding behind her agent as usual, she looked directly at Director Zhang in the main seat, her tone frank and sincere.

"I dieted for a long time to lose weight for the camera, which caused my physical strength to drop. As an actor, I couldn't even pronounce my lines clearly when I was hungry. This is unprofessional of me, and I apologize to everyone."

After speaking, she bowed slightly.

This straightforward self-analysis surprised several investor representatives who were ready to launch an attack.

In the entertainment industry, it's common for celebrities to make excuses, blame their assistants, or claim they're sick when they make mistakes.

Few people would so openly admit in public that they "didn't eat enough," or even directly label themselves as "unprofessional."

Director Zhang raised an eyebrow, the anger in his eyes subsiding slightly, replaced by a hint of inquiry. He looked Ye Wanxing, who stood tall and straight, up and down.

"And today?" Director Zhang asked, crossing his arms on the table and leaning forward. "Did you eat well today?"

"I'm full." Ye Wanxing nodded.

The comforting feeling from the minced meat stuffed tofu and clear soup noodles in her stomach continued to radiate a gentle warmth.

The protein from top-quality black mountain pork and the carbohydrates from handmade stone-ground tofu transformed into a continuous source of real physical strength, supporting her bones and muscles.

"Talk is cheap."

Director Zhang leaned back in his chair, pulled a page of the script from his side, flicked it with his finger, and the script slid down the smooth solid wood tabletop directly in front of Ye Wanxing.

"In the third scene the day before yesterday, the female general was reviewing her troops in front of the battlefield. When you recited those lines the day before yesterday, it sounded like you were singing a lullaby to the soldiers."

Director Zhang stared intently at her: "Now that you've eaten your fill, let's try again. Let's see what makes you so confident."

The conference room fell silent again, and all eyes turned back to Ye Wanxing.

Sister Hui nervously gripped the hem of her clothes.

This dialogue consists entirely of long, powerful sentences, requiring the emotions to flow from beginning to end. Without sufficient confidence and lung capacity, one simply cannot command the scene.

Ye Wanxing didn't look down at the page of the script on the table. She had already memorized those lines.

She took a deep breath.

Her clean-cut face was slightly raised, and the gentleness in her eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a coldness and majesty.

Without clearing her throat, she parted her lips slightly, and her voice, like the clash of metal against metal, resounded loudly in the spacious conference room.

"All soldiers, listen to my command!"

That voice was full of energy. Without using any microphone, it made Sister Hui, who was closest to her, hear a buzzing in her ears.

This isn't just about having a loud voice.

The investors' representatives, who had been nonchalant in the meeting room, were jolted awake by the shout and sat up straight in unison.

The man with glasses even put down his pen and adjusted his glasses.

Ye Wanxing didn't pause, her eyes sharp as knives, sweeping over the several suited CEOs in front of her, as if she were scrutinizing a vast army lined up in front of her.

"Today's battle is not for promotion or titles, nor for securing a good future for my wife and children!"

Her voice was steady and textured, each word was pronounced heavily, and her breath was continuous without any gaps.

Behind us are the 30,000 people of Yuzhou; if we retreat, our country will be destroyed, our homes will be ruined, and our land will be transformed!

As the dialogue progresses, Ye Wanxing's emotions build layer by layer.

The long line that had previously made her break out in a cold sweat and feel dizzy after just three sentences was now flowing smoothly from her lips, thanks to her ample energy. She wasn't out of breath at all; in fact, she became increasingly steady as she recited it.

"Anyone who retreats will be killed! Anyone who disrupts the morale of my army will be killed! If I retreat even half a step, you may also cut off my head!"

The final sentence, delivered with a menacing tone and resounding force, was powerful and decisive.

At this moment, the echoes of her clear and authoritative voice still reverberated throughout the conference room.