Chapter 8
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When Lin Hao came back, he saw Hu Jing chatting with a female voice, finally allowing himself to relax a bit.
Then, the girl turned around…
Seriously, another familiar face. This batch really had so many recognizable people. He might not know this one from other works, but surely Don’t Talk to Strangers rang a bell, right?
Mei Ting! The one who got abused in that drama!
Ah, this guy. Finally, there was someone who could chat with Hu Jing, and Lin Hao felt at ease, so he decided not to bring up what happened earlier.
Listening to their conversation, he realized that Mei Ting had been around the whole time, her number just a little ahead of theirs, 808. However, she had gathered a lot more information about what was going on. Yet, as she shared, the tension in the air only grew stronger.
For instance, she explained how the first round went.
The competition at the Central Academy of Drama was intense. Over a thousand candidates registered for the initial test, and everything had to be completed in a day, which made the pace quite fast. The rules were simple: announce your number, name, and the title of your prepared recitation, and then start.
Typically, if your performance wasn’t impressive, the evaluators would stop you after three or four lines. At that point, they already had a good idea of your skills. If you were truly outstanding, or if your piece intrigued the judges, you might be allowed to recite more.
Even if you got cut off, it didn’t necessarily mean elimination. The judges would compare all performances later and rank you accordingly. But no one could predict outcomes, so candidates generally tried to gauge their chances by observing the judges’ expressions.
Most people, however, didn’t feel optimistic.
After all, more than half of the candidates would be filtered out in the first round. Only three or four hundred would advance to the second round. Passing the first stage was no easy feat, let alone making it through the next rounds. Everyone felt uneasy, and the two girls chattered nervously amidst the chaotic environment of other recitations. Yet Lin Hao remained calm and composed.
…
Lin Hao’s confidence wasn’t baseless.
Just as Wang Qianyuan had mentioned earlier when visiting in the afternoon, even Zhang Ziyi had studied under Chang Li’s class. Similarly, Lin Hao had also invested significantly in preparation at the Central Academy. He knew some of the judges, and with his skills, if he couldn’t even pass the first round, it would be absurd.
Eventually, Zhang Ziyi and Zhao Wei arrived, both looking confident. As time passed, names were finally called. They were grouped in sets of twenty, and, due to some absentees, the four of them ended up in the same group.
They entered the room, facing seven judges, two of whom Lin Hao recognized. One had taught him, and he had met the other a few times, even having some good conversations. However, everyone now maintained a professional demeanor, avoiding any eye contact.
“Number 856, if you’re ready, please begin.”
The head judge adjusted the paperwork, and the test began.
The first candidate had chosen To the Oak Tree but came off overly dramatic in the first line. After two lines, the judge cut them off: “Alright, next!”
Even though the candidate felt disappointed, they had no choice but to step back. The next girl was even more nervous, stumbling over her words and bursting into tears when interrupted. The judges, accustomed to such scenes, promptly moved on.
“Next!”
Hu Jing took a deep breath, glanced at the composed Lin Hao, who gave her an encouraging look, and seemed to calm down. She adjusted herself and stepped forward: “Number 858, name Hu Jing, recitation title: Farewell to Cambridge.”
She paused briefly, then began: “Softly, I am leaving, just as I softly came; I wave gently, bidding farewell to the rosy clouds of the western sky.”
“Alright, next!”
As expected, she was stopped early. Hu Jing managed to contain her disappointment and nervousness. Then, it was Lin Hao’s turn.
…
Appearance matters when assessing someone.
The head judge glanced at Lin Hao, then kept looking, while the other judges followed suit. In the arts, one’s image and aura were crucial. The previous girl looked quite nice, but Lin Hao not only had good looks but also exuded a calm, composed demeanor.
“He seems solid,” one judge remarked.
“A student of Old Zhang’s, I know him,” another commented.
Lin Hao announced himself confidently: “Number 859, name Lin Hao, recitation title: Facing the Sea, with Spring Blossoms.”
Choosing a poem by Hai Zi was bold.
“From tomorrow on, I will be a happy person
Raising horses, chopping wood, traveling the world
From tomorrow on, I will care about food and vegetables
I have a house, facing the sea, with spring blossoms.”
His voice wasn’t particularly expressive, but the restraint made it refreshing, capturing the judges’ attention. Many poured excessive emotions into their readings, often becoming tedious. Lin Hao’s approach, in contrast, felt clear and sincere, evoking an image of hopeful simplicity.
As the poem continued, a subtle shift marked the transition from idyllic dreams to reality’s sobering constraints. By the end, his voice held a quiet but unmistakable resolve, adding an authentic personal touch to his performance.
Of course, much of this might have been Lin Hao’s imagination hyping himself up. He was, after all, surprised that he made it through without being cut off. His recitation wasn’t flawless, at least not to his own standards.
“Good. Next!”
The judge nodded, and Lin Hao, still a 17-year-old in their eyes, had impressed. To be fair, it was a notable accomplishment given his age.
…
The next candidates were Zhao Wei, who performed well, and Zhang Ziyi, who forgot her lines halfway but was graciously assisted by a judge. She quickly expressed her gratitude.
However, Zhang Ziyi was visibly upset afterward.
Curiously, her stumble seemed to ease the tension among the other candidates. Lin Hao’s strong performance set a high bar, so any mishap would make the others feel slightly relieved. Some knew that finishing a recitation was rare, let alone earning a “good.”
It was a remarkable achievement, causing considerable pressure.
Each candidate had their turn, and Lin Hao listened to the whole group, realizing that he had perhaps overestimated everyone. Although most looked great, their performances left much to be desired.
Some recited like elementary school readings, others carried heavy accents, and a few overly theatrical candidates couldn’t help but add unnecessary flourishes. Despite the clearly stated decorum, the group of twenty exhibited a wild variety of quirks.
Leaving the room, many felt uneasy. Even Lin Hao, despite being the most confident, didn’t boast but quietly joined the rest in leaving. Once outside, everyone exchanged polite farewells and dispersed.
At this point, Zhang Ziyi wasn’t yet the internationally acclaimed actress, Zhao Wei wasn’t a beloved star, and Hu Jing was just a pretty girl. None knew what the future held, all anxious about their results.
Even Zhao Wei, despite her early success, harbored doubts.
Lin Hao, meanwhile, couldn’t help but feel a mischievous excitement. If things unfolded as he remembered, he would witness the early days of many future luminaries. Who knew? Maybe he, too, could become one of those admired stars.