Chapter 15
The autumn wind blew chill and bleak, and the leaves of the French plane trees lining the road gradually shifted from green to half-yellow.
This was Meng Kaiyan’s favorite season—neither too hot nor too cold. The streets were full of scenery, and the breeze was gentler than the harsh winter winds, lifting her spirits slightly with every gust. Occasionally, she could catch the scent of freshly baked bread wafting from some unknown bakery.
Jian Zhenzhu drove her to the entrance of the Shanghai Theatre Academy, reminding her, “Don’t be nervous. After the exam, I’ll take you out for hotpot.”
Meng Kaiyan swallowed instinctively, “Okay.”
It must have been over a year since she last had hotpot. Now, she feared she might be distracted during the exam, thinking about hotpot.
When the admission time arrived, Meng Kaiyan entered the school with the crowd, gathering first in a hall where she received her number tag.
“Kaiyan, what’s your number?”
Suddenly, someone tapped her on the shoulder.
Meng Kaiyan turned around. “Jingru!” It was Qiao Jingru, a girl who had trained with her under Yang Suye.
She glanced down at her tag. “Number 28.”
Qiao Jingru held up her own. “Wow, I’m way off—number 65.”
Meng Kaiyan said, “I heard it’s five people per group. You’re in group 13, so it won’t be long before it’s your turn.”
Qiao Jingru laughed, “Better to stay away from you. You’re too intense. If we were in the same group, I’d definitely go crazy.”
Meng Kaiyan tightened her coat. “There are plenty of talented people around.” One by one, everyone was warming up their voices or stretching their legs, which made her a bit nervous.
Soon, staff started taking candidates to remove their makeup—quite a few were taken away. Qiao Jingru was pulled aside, and even Meng Kaiyan was scrutinized.
“No foundation, right?” The staff stared at her for a few seconds before asking.
Meng Kaiyan shook her head vigorously. “No.”
“Here, I’ll wipe it off.” The staff took a wet wipe and rubbed firmly twice; seeing no discoloration, she left.
Not long after, Qiao Jingru returned, her mood buoyant. “That money spent on makeup artists wasn’t wasted. My eyeliner stayed intact.”
Meng Kaiyan leaned in for a closer look. “Really, your eyebrows are untouched too. You used eyebrow tint, right?”
“Yeah. And lipstick—looks natural, but I did wear lipstick.” Qiao Jingru puckered her lips for Meng Kaiyan to see, then glanced around and whispered, “So many in our batch came with makeup on. The really light makeup wasn’t even checked. You’re really honest, Kaiyan.”
Meng Kaiyan pressed her lips tightly. “Actually, I used lip gloss, and it stains a lot.” Besides, a week before the exam, she had spent her leftover starlight points to improve her skin, so her complexion was looking especially good.
“Really? I can’t tell. You just look especially healthy. Hey, help me hold my phone while I fix my hair.” Qiao Jingru handed over her phone and said, “It’s really a showdown of skills now. You don’t know—Liang Long even went to the hospital for hyaluronic acid and aqua shine injections; he’s recovering well.”
Meng Kaiyan recalled the boy. “His skin was rough, definitely needed treatment.” But the effect was probably average; he’d need regular touch-ups.
“If I had known, I’d have gotten some cosmetic treatments too,” Qiao Jingru regretted. “And semi-permanent makeup.”
Their chat was brief. Soon, the first group began to enter the exam hall. The tension among the waiting candidates was palpable.
Meng Kaiyan went in half an hour later, clutching her USB drive as she walked to the classroom.
---
Voice, stage presence, and lines all tested in sequence.
Meng Kaiyan’s first exam was singing, followed by recitation next door, and then improvisation—the trickiest part, most prone to mistakes, and the most dreaded for encountering unstable “bombs.”
What was a “bomb”? Those with average scores who had already resigned themselves to failure. They often resorted to disruptive tactics to drag others down with them.
Unfortunately, Meng Kaiyan encountered one.
Four people were assigned per exam room. Their group’s prompt was “The Person Who Lost Their Phone.”
Just as Meng Kaiyan read the title, the only boy in the group said, “I’ll be the one who lost the phone. Then someone picks it up, a policeman, and a passerby.”
“I’ll be the policeman,” a long-haired girl immediately volunteered.
Meng Kaiyan glanced at her in surprise. “Then I’ll be the person who picks up the phone.” This girl must have rehearsed similar roles before.
The remaining girl was dissatisfied; being the passerby wasn’t a standout role. But she was soft-hearted and eventually nodded.
The plot was simple: the boy loses his phone, Meng Kaiyan’s character finds it, notices cracks on the phone, which leads to the policeman and the righteous passerby confronting the boy.
Time was tight, so they didn’t delay.
The boy first asked, “Did my phone fall on the ground? Why are there cracks on it?”
Meng Kaiyan was about to reply when he added, “There was money in my phone case. Now it’s gone.”
“Forget it, just take the money. But asking me for a bribe? Isn’t that a bit much?”
She was doomed—the exact situation their teacher Yang had warned about. At that moment, Meng Kaiyan’s mind blanked for a split second.
If a camera had been on her face, it would have captured the brief emptiness in her eyes.
But having acted in several plays and been coached by two Director Chens, though stunned, her voice remained steady and her mind clear.
Meng Kaiyan rolled her eyes and put on an exasperated smile. “Hey, don’t be ridiculous. There are three cracks on your phone, all caused by sharp objects. Could it look like that just from falling?”
The boy tried to interrupt, but Meng Kaiyan stepped forward, asserting herself, “Besides, your phone case is transparent. When I picked up the phone, you were right there, and there was clearly no money inside.”
The soft-spoken girl wasn’t naive. Seeing Meng Kaiyan step up and respond quickly, she joined in, “Yeah, if you want to scam someone, just say so. It’s the era of mobile payments; who puts cash behind a clear phone case?”
Meng Kaiyan said firmly, “Stop it. I won’t accept your slander. I’m calling the police.”
The boy glanced at the time and waved his hand, “What a pain. You’re all a team, and I don’t have time to argue. I don’t want the money either.”
His lines were terrible, mumbled and unclear. He obviously didn’t want to continue acting.
The girl playing the policeman looked desperate, repeatedly glancing at Meng Kaiyan.
Meng Kaiyan sighed internally at the performance falling apart but forced herself to continue, “You’re not running away. The police station is just ahead.”
She tugged him along, making a circuit that counted as reaching the police station.
The policeman girl finally stepped forward, rattling off a bunch of lines, though Meng Kaiyan could clearly hear her voice trembling and saw her hands shaking.
The passerby girl felt she hadn’t done enough and added more lines on the side.
---
Both were anxious. The boy tried to escape again. Meng Kaiyan wanted to interject and guide the scene to an end but couldn’t get a word in. The latter half of the performance was a complete disaster.
When they exited the exam room, the girl playing the policeman nearly burst into tears, forced herself to calm down with deep breaths.
Meng Kaiyan said nothing. Comforting her then might have triggered an emotional breakdown. After a brief hesitation, she headed to her next exam.
The final test was physical presence. She brought two classical bird-and-flower dance fans. This time, no accidents occurred, and she completed the exam smoothly.
The sun shone brightly, and wrapped in her coat, Meng Kaiyan felt warm but didn’t dare remove it, fearing her mother’s scolding.
Jian Zhenzhu handed her a bouquet. “How did it go?”
Meng Kaiyan took the flowers, inhaled deeply, and drooped her eyelids. “I encountered some oddballs, but I think I did okay.”
Jian Zhenzhu worried, “Really okay?”
Meng Kaiyan nodded and briefly explained the situation to ease her worries.
Jian Zhenzhu slammed the steering wheel angrily. “What a troublemaker—can’t pass himself and deliberately drags others down. He needs to be blacklisted, and he definitely shouldn’t be allowed to take the unified exam next year.”
Meng Kaiyan tapped her head and decided not to dwell on it. “Mom, let’s go eat hotpot.”
Jian Zhenzhu started the car. “Alright, let’s eat hotpot to break the bad luck.”
“...”
It seemed Mrs. Jian was becoming more and more superstitious.
The unified exam was over; next came the school exam.
The school exam was usually held in January and subject to change. Meng Kaiyan, who hadn’t enrolled in a training class, had to keep an eye on the school’s website to avoid missing the exam.
That night.
After showering and preparing for bed, a notification sounded on Meng Kaiyan’s phone—it was from Director Chen Man.
Chen Man: “Our play’s press conference in Beijing is on December 28th. Xiao Meng, are you available that day?”
Meng Kaiyan’s eyes widened as she checked the calendar—it was a Saturday! She quickly replied, “Yes.”
Chen Man: “Then come over. Once you arrive, coordinate with my assistant. I’ll send you the address shortly.”
Meng Kaiyan: “Okay, Director Chen.”
She then sent an “excited” emoji.
Truly excited, she bounced on the bed several times, rolling around under the covers.
“Ahhh, Mom, Dad, I’m going to a press conference!”
Her shout was so loud that Aunt Xu next door, who was helping her grandson with homework, heard it and left a bright red mark on the homework book in fright.