214: Chapter 214 The Great Waves Sweeps Away the Sand: Hengdian's Professional Corpse Actors

"Lin Fan... ran away?"

In the lobby of the unfinished building.

No one knew who swallowed their saliva first, breaking the suffocating silence.

Watching that figure scrambling away, not even bothering to pick up the high-end sunglasses dropped on the floor, everyone present felt like they were dreaming.

That was Lin Fan!

The Crown Prince of Tianyu Media, a Popular Young Star with three million die-hard fans.

Usually, wherever he went, he was surrounded by people and worshipped like a god by fans who held him in the palms of their hands.

Today.

Yet, in this unfinished building where even the wall plaster hadn't been cleaned, by a director wearing only a thin tank top.

With a three-minute performance of "eating air," his mental state had been ruthlessly crushed.

He had even been scared to tears!

In the live stream, after a brief blankness in the bullet chat, the most frantic wave of excitement of the day arrived.

[Deserter! This is the 'oppa' you guys praised to the heavens? When he meets real talent, he just makes a run for it!]

[So satisfying! Director Su's reverse dimensional strike just tore the fig leaf off the Chinese Entertainment Industry's 'Little Fresh Meat' to shreds!]

[Let's see how he has the face to brag about 'explosive acting' on Weibo in the future! He's not even as good as a beggar!]

[This is the kind of threshold actor selection should have! No face, just life!]

...

With Lin Fan's ignominious flight, this farce came to an end.

But the aftershocks of this storm created a tsunami at the audition site.

The atmosphere in the lobby of the unfinished building instantly dropped to absolute zero.

Those 'Little Fresh Meat' and Idols lined up in the middle and back of the queue, who had originally harbored a glimmer of hope to rely on their faces for some screen time.

After witnessing Su Zhe's assessment standards, which were comparable to "death by a thousand cuts," and his non-human, abnormal acting.

At this moment, their faces were pale, looking as if they were mourning their own parents.

Was this a joke?

Even a top star like Lin Fan, who was protected by capital, had his mental state collapse from the abuse.

If small fries like them without backgrounds went up, wouldn't Su Zhe skin them alive?

"Uh... I just remembered, I don't think I turned off the gas when I left, I have to go back!"

A boy with thick foundation on his face clutched his stomach and turned to slip out the door.

His flight was like a falling domino, instantly triggering a chain reaction.

"Oh! My manager just sent a WeChat message telling me to go back to the company for a meeting! Goodbye!"

"I... my stomach hurts! I need to go to the ER!"

"Director, I just got a notification, my cat is about to give birth..."

In less than ten minutes.

The massive queue of over a thousand people that had stretched from the lobby to the road.

It quickly melted away like snow exposed to the scorching sun.

The crowd poured out in a rush, even causing some pushing and shoving at the entrance.

Those glamorous skins fled faster than rabbits when faced with the cruel "judgment of acting."

"Hey! Don't leave! It's almost your turn!"

The assistant director looked at the empty entrance, jumping with anxiety.

He ran to Su Zhe's side with the registration book, looking like he was about to cry: "Director Su... it's over.

They're all gone!

The good-looking ones, the professionally trained ones, the ones with a fan base... not a single one is left!"

The assistant director wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, feeling like he was about to lose his job because he couldn't recruit any actors: "Is our threshold set too high?

Your performance just now, never mind them, even someone like me who has been directing for ten years felt weak in the knees watching it!

Now look, the original queue of a thousand people has less than twenty left. How are we going to record this show?

Are we just going to show empty shots in the live stream?"

Su Zhe, sitting in the executive chair.

Put his black casual jacket back on.

He picked up the cold wolfberry tea on the table and took a gentle sip.

Looking at the empty doorway.

A satisfied smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

"It's good they ran. The faster they run, the bigger the ghosts in their hearts."

Su Zhe put down the teacup, his voice echoing in the empty hall: "I want wolves that can roll in the mud, not poodles raised in a greenhouse.

If they don't even have the courage to face me, how can they be expected to face the camera and interpret complex human nature?

The waves wash away the sand; once the sand recedes.

What remains is the true gold."

The assistant director made a bitter face and pointed to the dozen or so lonely figures in the furthest corner of the hall: "But Director Su...

What's left doesn't look like gold, it looks like... scrap metal."

Su Zhe followed his finger.

In the vast audition site.

The remaining fewer than twenty people could be described as true "grassroots" and "outcasts."

They had no exquisite makeup, no expensive clothes.

Some wore old jackets washed to a faded white, and some had mud on their cloth shoes.

They stood there, trembling.

Their eyes were full of awe for Su Zhe, perhaps even fear.

But even so.

Their legs seemed nailed to the floor; not a single person moved an inch.

Because they knew.

In this entertainment industry monopolized by capital, this was the only chance in their lives where they didn't have to look at faces or backgrounds, but only at strength.

Even if there were mountains of daggers and seas of flames ahead.

They would grit their teeth and wade through.

"Whether they are scrap metal or not, I'll be the judge."

Su Zhe put his black sunglasses back on, hiding the anticipation gradually igniting in his eyes.

"Get the number plates. Next, call the number!"

The assistant director sighed and could only pick up the megaphone, shouting weakly: "Number eighteen!

Candidate number eighteen, please come to the stage!"

...

As the assistant director called the name.

At the very back of the line, a slightly hunched figure moved.

Under the gaze of all the live stream viewers.

A middle-aged man slowly walked onto the stage.

The moment he stood under the spotlight.

The bullet chat in the live stream experienced a brief pause.

Followed by an uproar.

[Is... is this person here to audition as an actor or to apply for a security guard position?]

[Uncle, you're on the wrong set, aren't you? The construction site next door might suit you better.]

[This look is too old-fashioned, isn't it? And his hairline is almost at the back of his head. What can he play? The male lead's poor relative?]

[So tragic. After Director Su's slaughter, the ones left are all these 'crooked melons and split jujubes.' This show is completely finished.]

The viewers couldn't be blamed for being harsh.

Because the man before them, whether in looks or temperament, had absolutely nothing to do with the word "star."

He wore an extremely cheap gray jacket that had been washed until it was somewhat white.

On his feet was a pair of old leather shoes with worn-down heels.

Although he wore no makeup, his skin was coarse, showing a sense of vicissitude from years of exposure to sun and wind.

Most striking was his somewhat precarious hairline and the old black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

He stood before the solitary chair.

Looking very ill at ease.

His hands rubbed together uneasily in front of him.

"He... hello, Director."

The man bowed deeply to Su Zhe behind the monitor.

His attitude was extremely humble, even showing a kind of ingratiation unique to people at the bottom of society.

"My name is Zhang Song."

Su Zhe sat in the shadows, looking at the application form in his hand.

[Name: Zhang Song.]

[Graduated School: None.]

[Agency: None (Individual).]

This resume was as clean as a blank sheet of paper.

In this audition where everyone was from the top three drama schools, he was simply an anomaly.

"Zhang Song, right?"

Su Zhe was in no hurry to give a prompt, instead looking at him with a calm tone: "Looking at your info, you don't have a manager.

You came all the way to Beijing for an interview; how did you get here?"

Zhang Song pushed up the glasses that were slipping down his nose and gave a simple, honest smile: "I... I came by green-skin train.

I bought a hard-seat ticket and sat for over ten hours."

"Do you have any previous acting experience?"

Su Zhe followed up.

Zhang Song's hand-rubbing became more frequent, appearing somewhat embarrassed: "I... I've had a little.

I've been in Hengdian for ten years.

I've been playing extras all this time."

Hearing "ten years in Hengdian," the assistant director looked up in surprise: "Ten years? Then you must have played many roles.

Do you have any representative works?

Or roles with a few lines?"

Zhang Song's eyes dimmed slightly.

He lowered his head slightly, his voice a bit dry: "No... no lines.

I don't look good, so assistant directors are never willing to give me a close-up.

In these ten years, what I played most..."

Zhang Song took a deep breath, as if using all his strength to calmly state the word: "...is a corpse.

Also eunuchs and refugees in the background."

Dead silence.

The hall fell silent once again.

The bullet chat in the live stream also lessened significantly.

Many people suddenly felt an indescribable bitterness in their hearts.

Ten years.

Spending the most precious ten years of one's youth in that dream-making machine called Hengdian.

In exchange, only the experience of lying in the mud countless times to play a corpse or a eunuch.

This was not just Zhang Song's sorrow, but a microcosm of thousands of low-level extras.

[Sigh, the uncle is also a pitiful person.]

[Is it really worth spending ten years for a dream that is impossible to achieve?]

[Director Su, why not just give him an extra role? It wasn't easy for him to come all this way sitting on a hard seat for over ten hours.]

Netizens began to sympathize with this down-and-out middle-aged man.

However.

In Su Zhe's heart, there was not a trace of sympathy.

In this circle, sympathy is the greatest insult to an actor.

He didn't speak.

Instead, in his mind, he quietly activated that divine skill worth millions of popularity points.

[God-level Acting Analysis and Training Mastery—Fiery Eyes, Activate!]

In an instant.

The world before Su Zhe's eyes changed.

His gaze at Zhang Song no longer lingered on the faded jacket and humble posture.

Instead, it directly pierced through this layer of destitute skin.

He saw Zhang Song's pupils, which although seemingly ill at ease, were as calm as a deep pool of water in their depths.

He saw that although Zhang Song was rubbing his hands, the muscles in his shoulders were in a state of perfect relaxation that could explode at any moment.

He saw in this man an extremely heavy and coarse texture of life, marinated by ten years of mud, cold shoulders, and boxed lunches.

The "low-level feel" that Idol stars needed to spend months experiencing life to barely portray.

In this man, it was as natural as breathing because it had long been etched into his bones.

Even more terrifying.

Su Zhe detected a "hunger" in his micro-expressions that was difficult for ordinary people to understand.

It wasn't a hunger for food.

But an extreme greed for acting, for roles, for the kind of stage that could release his soul, suppressed for a full ten years.

"A treasure!"

Su Zhe's heart skipped a beat.

The eyes under his sunglasses burst with a tangible, fanatical light!

How was this scrap metal?

This was a peerless demonic blade that had been buried in the soil for ten years, already soaked in blood, just waiting to be sharpened to slay gods!

This was exactly the god-level villain material he had been searching for to carry the banner of realism!

"Good. Very good."

Su Zhe slowly took off his sunglasses.

He leaned forward, hands crossed and propped on the table.

No longer showing any contempt, he looked at Zhang Song with the equal posture of treating a true opponent.

"You've played a corpse for ten years and watched the world for ten years."

Su Zhe's voice rang out in the silent hall, carrying a pressure that made one's scalp tingle: "Then today, I will give you a chance to truly 'come alive.'"