He plays Feng Yuxiu, and his girlfriend is a fairy-like beauty.

Liu Weiqiang closed the script and stood up.

His expression had returned to its usual calm.

The eyes hidden behind the black-rimmed glasses lingered on Ye Mo for two seconds, but said nothing.

"Go back and wait for further instructions."

Six words: neither hot nor cold.

He didn't seem as excited as he had been when he said "good" three times in a row, nor did he seem dissatisfied.

Ye Mo bowed slightly.

He didn't press for details, nor did he show any impatience.

As he turned to leave, he caught a glimpse of Hung Kam-po out of the corner of his eye—Hung Kam-po was holding a cup of Pu-erh tea that had been brewed countless times, and he nodded at him.

The movement was small, but the look in their eyes was clear.

This is enough.

The people waiting in the corridor were still there.

When Ye Mo pushed open the door, several people's eyes fell on him at the same time, scanning his expression, trying to read something from that young face.

Without giving any signal, Ye Mo walked through the corridor and pressed the elevator button.

The gate slammed shut, shutting out the murmurs behind them.

We got back to the hotel after lunchtime.

Ye Mo tossed the key card onto the table, lay down on the bed, and stared at the ceiling.

The scene was still replaying in his mind—"Wong Sir, can I still choose?" He closed his eyes and repeated it again, this time pausing for a half-beat longer on the word "can still."

Never mind, he's already put in a lot of effort, the rest is none of his business.

He took out his phone, opened Liu Yifei's WeChat, and sent two words: "Are you there?"

No reply.

I waited for thirty seconds, then a minute, then two minutes, but the phone remained motionless.

Ye Mo waited for another five minutes, but couldn't sit still any longer, so he simply made a video call.

It rang five times, but no one answered, and then the call automatically ended.

He tossed his phone onto the bed and rolled over.

My mind started racing—was my sense of proportion during the audition right?

Did Chen Yongren's smile last an extra half second?

Liu Weiqiang wondered if he had anyone in mind—then his phone vibrated.

He grabbed it and took it; the screen was completely dark.

"Wait a minute—don't make a sound—my mom's in the living room—"

Liu Yifei's voice was extremely low, and his breath hit the microphone, making a popping sound.

The image was shaky, first showing a corner of the ceiling, then a door, then the light reflecting off the tiled wall, and finally it stabilized—she was sitting on the toilet seat, with a row of toilet paper rolls and a half-open bathroom cabinet door in the background.

Her hair was casually clipped behind her head, with a few stray strands falling around her cheeks, making it look like she had sprung up from the sofa and run twenty meters.

Ye Mo stared at the screen for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"Are you in the bathroom?"

"Of course, otherwise why would I be able to answer the video call?"

Liu Yifei held the phone closer, her facial expressions shifting rapidly.

While keeping a watchful eye on the door, she spoke in a low voice, "I don't know what's wrong with my mom today. She's been sitting on the sofa and won't move. Usually, she'd be in her room putting on a face mask by now, but today she's been sitting in the living room for two hours. I almost thought she'd found out I hid my phone. How did your audition go?"

"I'm done testing."

"How is it?"

"Liu Weiqiang told me to go back and wait for further notice."

"That's it?"

"That's all. Just six words—go back and wait for further notice. Teacher Hong did nod at me, though."

Liu Yifei switched the phone to her left hand and rubbed her numb calves with her right hand.

"Liu Weiqiang is known for his taciturn nature; you have to interpret his words in reverse—if he doesn't refuse on the spot, there's a chance."

"I hope so." Ye Mo raised his pillow a little and changed his position. "But today's event is really big. There are seven or eight people sitting in the corridor, all from the Hong Kong entertainment circle. Zhang Jiahui, Lin Jiadong, Chen Haomin, and Liu Qingyun are also there—he was nominated for Best Actor last year."

"Liu Qingyun?" Liu Yifei's voice suddenly rose half an octave, then she quickly covered her mouth and glanced guiltily toward the door.

After confirming there was no movement outside the door, she lowered her voice, but the shock in her tone remained undiminished, "Are you sure it's Liu Qingyun herself? Or just someone with the same name?"

"When he came out, his forehead was covered in sweat. He said to go back and wait for notification—exactly the same six words that Liu Weiqiang told me."

"My God, Zhang Jiahui, Lin Jiadong, Liu Qingyun—all of them are auditioning for the same movie? What is Liu Weiqiang even doing this time?" Liu Yifei's eyes were full of amazement, but then she frowned slightly, "Wait a minute, so many big names are auditioning, and you're stuck in the middle—"

"I performed as expected," Ye Mo replied quickly and calmly.

But it's not the kind of forced, feigned composure.

It's the kind of peace of mind that comes from having done your best and having a clear conscience.

"But seriously, Ye Mo," Liu Yifei leaned closer to the screen, the bathroom light casting a soft glow on her face, "Liu Weiqiang's film, and he's the lead—do you know how many people in the industry are eyeing this level of resources? He can call half of Hong Kong's A-list stars with just one phone call. You're on the rise right now, but compared to those people, you're still several levels behind in terms of experience. It's not that I don't trust you, it's that I'm afraid they'll think you're too young and inexperienced, and in the end, they won't even give you a reason."

"I know, but do you want to hear the good stuff?"

Liu Yifei looked at him.

"If I get this role—the male lead to Liu Weiqiang, whose last film won a Hong Kong Film Award, and I get another one, I can jump from Feng Yuxiu to Chen Yongren, from villain to male lead, from newcomer to veteran actor. This is different from Running Man. Running Man is about popularity, while a film is about foundation. Popularity can fade, but foundation will not."

"Who told you the hype would die down? I'm still spamming your comments section," Liu Yifei muttered, then fell silent.

The toilet exhaust fan whirred, casting the shadow of the toilet paper roll on the wall behind her.

"Go ask Teacher Hong later. He knows everything in the industry. It'll only take a meal."

"That's exactly what I'm going to do."

"Then hurry up and make an appointment with her—wait—"

She suddenly lowered her phone, her ears perking up.

A muffled voice drifted in from off-screen, coming through two doors—"Yifei? You've been in the bathroom for so long?"

"Mom—I'm almost there—" Liu Yifei shouted at the top of her lungs, then mouthed the words to the screen, gesturing one by one: I—have—to—hang—up.

"Go quickly—"

The video ended with a hurried "Go for it!" at the moment she reached for the doorknob.

The screen froze for one frame before jumping back to the chat interface.

Ye Mo looked at the screen and put his phone down.

Then I sat up and opened my contacts.

Find Ah Qiang's phone number.

"Brother Qiang, is Teacher Hong free tonight? I'd like to invite him to dinner, just the two of us. Could you ask him for me?"

Less than a minute later, A-Qiang replied with an OK emoji.

Upon seeing this, Ye Mo sent the location of a restaurant.

At the same time, I went to the audition site of Liu Weiqiang and then returned to Kowloon Tong.

The office of Hong Jinbao was filled with the aged aroma of Pu'er tea.

He was sitting in a grand chair, scrolling through his phone, the screen displaying his work schedule for tomorrow.

We inspected the venue at 8:00, had a meeting at 10:00, and Liu Weiqiang arranged dinner for us that evening.

I swiped my finger across the screen, and a new message popped up on WeChat.

A message from A-Qiang: Teacher Hong, Ye Mo would like to invite you to dinner tonight, just the two of you.

Hung Kam-po stared at the message for two seconds.

Then he swallowed the tea in his mouth and smiled slightly.

Invite me to dinner.

This kid was just dismissed by Liu Weiqiang with a simple "wait for notification".

She turned around and came looking for him. What does that mean? Does he not know?

Inviting someone to dinner isn't about gathering information; it's about expressing gratitude for their recommendation. Regardless of the outcome, thanking them for the meal is the least I can do.

Even some people who have been in the business for ten years might not be able to grasp this sense of proportion.

He leaned back in his chair, picked up his phone, and sent a voice message to A-Qiang.

Tell him it's okay.

Then he scrolled to Liu Weiqiang's chat box and typed a few words: "Dinner tonight, reschedule. Someone invited me to dinner."

Liu Weiqiang replied instantly: Who is it? There aren't many people who would let you push me.

Sammo Hung chuckled and typed back: "Xiao Ye invited me; this kid must be trying to find out the audition results."

The phone went silent for a moment.

Then Liu Weiqiang replied with two words: "Mhm!"

Hung Kam-pao smiled and shook his head at the screen, then put his phone on the table.

I picked up the Pu'er tea and took a sip.

The setting sun over Victoria Harbour outside the window is filtering through the gaps between the buildings, turning the water in my teacup golden.

He swirled the glass and muttered something to himself.

"I've been eating with Lao Liu for twenty years, one more meal won't hurt. As for this kid, I want to see how long he can hold back before asking me."

......