Hey! The Criminal Assistance System Can Even Be Used Like This? 130

Xu Zhizhi selected the script, and the next step was to specialize in learning the relevant knowledge and acting skills. In the entertainment industry, there is a hierarchy of disdain for acting in films and television dramas; from high to low, it seems that success can only ascend from the bottom up, with meritocracy prevailing.

At the lowest level are online dramas and web films, followed by television dramas and movies, and finally, the prestige productions and New Year’s festival offerings—top-tier resources that are mainly produced by official media, like CCTV, for positive propaganda.

Most themes revolve around the War of Resistance, distinguished figures and decisive battles during that period, as well as topics on poverty alleviation and documentaries. Participating in these, even without pay, is considered a great honor for most actors in the industry. The invitation to Xu Zhizhi, in a way, signified that she was held in regard.

She went back to find out who had made the decision to invite her for the audition. It was Director Zhou, the director of the previous film “Deception,” who had accidentally drawn the attention of a counterfeit crime syndicate. She had infiltrated that crime ring, dismantling the entire group and rescuing an elder who had found himself in dire straits.

When Xu Zhizhi saw the name, she couldn’t help but feel amused yet helpless—Director Zhou truly was capable, and a role was genuinely offered. Upon seeing his name, she knew she had to audition, no matter what.

The audition would be in just over twenty days, and her immediate priority was to train her body and acting skills. She knew that Director Zhou was merely giving her an opportunity. Whether or not she could seize that opportunity depended on her own efforts.

Calculating this, Xu Zhizhi suddenly felt a heightened sense of urgency. She contacted Yun Ziwei to arrange physical training sessions and professional acting coaches for the next twenty days. Before this, Xu Zhizhi had never received professional acting training, often relying only on her own insights and trial-and-error experiences with seniors.

The most critical aspect was that this role required a strong regional accent, and Xu Zhizhi had no confidence in her ability to learn it. She realized there were many tasks she needed to busy herself with.

Upon hearing that Xu Zhizhi had chosen a script, Yun Ziwei also started her busy preparations. She harbored a hope in her heart that Xu Zhizhi might be nominated for Best Actress with this role. However, this was just a thought; shooting such a television drama typically started six months in advance, meaning they wouldn’t finish until the following year. If awards were to be given, it would also be next year.

Yet she couldn’t help but sigh—Xu Zhizhi’s career fortune really was strong; directors she had cooperated with would always recommend her whenever there was an opportunity. As long as she grasped these chances, they would serve as her stepping stones.

With those steps, Xu Zhizhi would gradually rise to the highest point. Yun Ziwei began searching for someone, finally setting her sights on Feng Jie. She was the powerhouse who could assist Xu Zhizhi with her fitness training! Moreover, the payment for this job was something she could completely earn for herself.

The only issue was finding a suitable teacher—Xu Zhizhi’s acting skills needed to transform a bit of that wicked charm to enhance her tenderness and determination. Picture a passionate college student full of vigor, throwing herself into poverty alleviation work, working alongside the village’s top leaders, gradually transforming the impoverished village.

A positive character needed just one role to completely segregate from the past villains. She could be a perennial antagonist but could also play a protagonist. Diversification was the path for an actor.

Additionally, the resources of this television series were truly exceptional. If the industry found out that Xu Zhizhi wasn’t even auditioning, they would probably laugh at her. To this end, Yun Ziwei contacted several strong veteran actors in the circle, but they all declined.

Weng Xin had health issues and was hospitalized, so she also politely refused. Ultimately, it was Zhong Man, who was preparing for her wedding and had no ongoing commercial activities, who offered to help Xu Zhizhi.

She didn’t charge any fees, and Xu Zhizhi didn’t give any either. They treated it like friends, keeping a regular schedule to meet at her home. Zhong Man was expected to snag the Orchid Flower Award for Best Actress for “Tracking the Clue” at the year’s end, and during this time, she had only two endorsement deals, mostly spending her time preparing for her wedding with Zhou Ling.

The two planned to get married at the end of the year, and if they both won the Best Actor and Best Actress awards, they would be hailed as a match made in heaven. Thus, her time was mostly devoted to wedding plans, with the dedicated wedding planning team managing the legwork; all they needed to do was make choices and try on wedding dresses, among others.

Every day, Xu Zhizhi followed her, absorbing everything about that role. The only inconsistency with the script was that the lead female character was described simply as pretty. But Xu Zhizhi was a stunning beauty with a striking appearance; even if she darkened her skin tone or applied makeup to conceal her features, her actual looks were hard to mask.

Aside from that point, Xu Zhizhi lacked no advantages. After reading the script, Zhong Man also noted this issue but still recommended that Xu Zhizhi give it a shot. Even if she didn’t get selected, it was still experience gained; the rest would be down to the judges’ decisions.

In the entertainment industry, unless a powerful capital invested in a project predetermined it, no role truly belonged to anyone. This was not only known to Zhong Man but was more apparent to Xu Zhizhi.

For instance, regarding the previous audition for the ancient drama’s antagonist role, she had performed excellently and thought she had at least a chance. However, she faced a rejection on the spot. From that moment on, Xu Zhizhi understood that no matter how well she acted, a role wasn’t guaranteed to be hers merely because she put in the work; others were also striving for the same opportunity.

As long as someone was dissatisfied, no matter how official the announcement was, they could easily replace her. Such occurrences were quite common in the entertainment industry.

In addition to acting skills, physical fitness also mattered; initial training was challenging, but after persisting through seven days, it became significantly easier. Along the way, she endured excruciating sessions with the fascia knife, primarily to avoid injuries and also correct some posture issues.

One could say Xu Zhizhi was pushing herself to the limit for the role. Every day entailed two to three hours of physical training, two hours at Zhong Man’s place, and the remaining time back at the company practicing in front of a full-length mirror.

Jiang Yuchuan was thrilled about Xu Zhizhi auditioning and would watch her performances, bringing his teammates along. Xu Zhizhi remained unperturbed, not even showing a hint of longing in front of a group of handsome, cheerful young men.

Initially, Jiang Yuchuan’s teammates were quite reserved, having witnessed many girls screaming in front of them. Such worship was nice, but they always preferred to maintain a normal perspective on their friend. The captain’s sister was also their elder sister; as a group of eighteen or nineteen-year-olds, they saw Xu Zhizhi daily, sharing meals and addressing her affectionately.

Fans were somewhat displeased at first, but helplessly, photographs captured genuine expressions of admiration for the sister. Respect and admiration were present, but not a trace of infatuation; the fans verified that there were no antics.

However, this popular boy band in the domestic entertainment scene was most famous for the rules and ethics governing their conduct. These guys weren’t allowed to date or casually meet up unless the group disbanded, and even swearing was forbidden.

Getting caught even once would result in a warning, a fine at most, or even expulsion from the group. Jiang Yuchuan had been on the verge of being accused of slander; in fact, the company was already prepared for that scenario. If found true, Jiang Yuchuan would leave the group and face an exorbitant compensation claim that would be unfathomable to the average person.

The most critical point was that Xu Zhizhi stayed far from all those idols, coupled with her scandal-free debut; her dirtiness was all self-inflicted. Just in terms of these aspects, fans respected her.

There were even fans who ran to Xu Zhizhi’s Weibo requesting photos of the idols, wanting group and solo shots alike. Previously, Xu Zhizhi had taken some beautiful pictures; her stunning charm had moved both group fans and diehard ones for a long while.

Xu Zhizhi took the photos and sent them to the team, who then decided whether to release them. Subsequently, the team released a series of early autumn photos; from her unique angles, they looked striking and received high accolades.

She felt it was related to her painting skills—the outcomes were simply serendipitous effects of her abilities. Days passed with a routine of physical and acting training; occasionally, she would hang out with Chen Han, Zhong Man, and other friends, or engage in small interactions on social media.

Soon enough, Xu Zhizhi faced her formal audition. The participants for this audition included veteran actors, producers, screenwriters, and directors, who would assess the auditioners professionally and evaluate various scores to ultimately decide on roles.

Only twelve people were invited to audition for the lead female role, yet every single one of them held considerable clout and skill, including five Best Actress award winners; the rest were all solid actors—the competition was incredibly fierce.

On the male lead side, it wasn’t any less fierce; many were even household names with titles of King of Acting or King of Television. Xu Zhizhi recognized all of them from various TV shows or through introductions.

As soon as she arrived, Chen Han grabbed her; she was also auditioning for the lead female role. However, she mentioned that even if she was here through her manager’s connections, her hopes were slim.

Chen Han held onto Xu Zhizhi, quietly cheering her on. Xu Zhizhi replied softly, “I’m not confident, either.”

“It’s fine. If it doesn’t work out, you can aim for the second female lead instead. That role is actually more charming than the female lead; although it’s not favored by the audience at the beginning, it’s a rich character that eventually aids the leads’ publicity efforts.” Chen Han suggested, linking arms with Xu Zhizhi and whispering into her ear.

Today was the selection for the lead roles, while tomorrow would feature selections for the second female lead. Given Xu Zhizhi’s connection with Director Zhou, obtaining another invitation wouldn’t be difficult.

Xu Zhizhi subtly nodded, saying, “My looks might not align with the preferences of the judging panel; everyone has acting skills, and some might be better than mine.”

“Don’t be discouraged; it’s all about gaining experience, just like I am,” Chen Han reassured her.

After becoming close friends in the entertainment industry, Chen Han’s once-haughty demeanor had softened considerably. However, hints of her old attitude sometimes seeped through in their casual communications.

Both of their managers were seated close by, and they found the duo’s friendship puzzling. What seemed like a competitive relationship appeared more like a casual outing instead.

As the male lead team arrived, the audition commenced. The act was about a poverty alleviation officer arriving for the first time in a village and reacting to the local situation. A rather vague prompt, the responses would be challenging to assess.

Similarly, for Xu Zhizhi’s audition for the female lead, it sought to see how she would react upon hearing and witnessing such realities. Notably, many in attendance were flipping through their scripts, clearly having reviewed the pages multiple times.

Chen Han conversed quietly with Xu Zhizhi, sharing relevant tidbits. This was akin to an open-ended question; whether one chose to exaggerate or play it understated, nobody dared to make definitive assertions.

Yun Ziwei watched the scene and encouraged Xu Zhizhi to do her best. After sitting for over two hours, the female lead auditions formally began. Unfortunately for Xu Zhizhi, she picked the second slot.

The poverty alleviation personnel who registered had some thoughts; the female lead was not a romantic counterpart to the male lead, but a duo representing the poverty alleviation team. Among them, the female lead was from this locale and, with the villagers’ backing, had been accepted into an excellent university.

After careful consideration, she decided to return home and help her village escape poverty. She came with ideals, and following the original character’s journey, she continuously built bridges and paved roads, bringing villagers together to explore their distinctive paths.

Ultimately, she sacrificed herself at work, dying just before the project’s success, embodying the epitome of over 1,800 volunteers who perished in the fight against poverty—essentially a perfect character.

Such a role was exceedingly hard to portray; a clear, pure gaze, full of fervor, energizing and enthusiastic. It contrasted starkly with Xu Zhizhi’s own character; at best, she considered herself to be a salted fish.

Fortunately, given her acting prowess, she could compensate for most shortcomings. Xu Zhizhi wore no makeup, her face bare. Her hair had grown to shoulder length over the months, and she chose to wear a wig, tied back with an elastic band.

She glanced at the judges, did a slight bow, introduced herself, and then asked, “May I have a microphone?” The judges exchanged glances and eventually decided to hand her one.

Once she held the microphone in her hand, her dark eyes fixed deterministically ahead, as if gazing upon familiar mountains and rivers. After a moment, she turned to the others, saying, “No need to introduce; Uncle, don’t you recognize me? Let me introduce it to everyone!”

She wasn’t an outsider; she belonged here. Thus, she was meant to introduce this to them. Xu Zhizhi’s eyes sparkled as she began presenting all the information concerning the impoverished households within the script.

She spoke of the villagers’ struggles and poverty, addressed education and infrastructure. Her tone was calm, lacking dramatic highs and lows, with an undertone of the local accent.

In a calm and sorrowful manner, she spoke, and in the end, she set down the microphone and looked at the other two university officials. With a smile and gratefulness, she said, “Thank you all for coming here.”

Upon finishing her lines, the corners of her eyes glistened with moisture. Transferring the microphone back indicated the performance’s end. This was her understanding; she realized her chances were slim.

Then, she decided to showcase everything she could. As for her acting, Xu Zhizhi’s style was now quite established, and her expressiveness and emotional resonance had reached a strong level.

So after Xu Zhizhi finished her audition, there was a moment of silence in the venue. After some time, the judging panel began murmuring and scoring, and these scores were aggregated to form an average rating.

Ultimately, the one with the highest score would win. Xu Zhizhi received a final score of 9.89. Grabbing her score, she noticed there was just one actress before her auditioning for the female lead; thus, she had no means to ascertain outcomes. Everything awaited the conclusion.

In reality, the atmosphere at the audition was quite harmonious; on the surface, many individuals wouldn’t let their feelings clash. After settling down, Chen Han inquired about Xu Zhizhi’s results, to which she merely revealed her score.

Chen Han nodded, acknowledging that Xu Zhizhi’s score was sufficient to secure her a shot at the final selection. “I’ve heard that in the male lead group, most scores hover around 9.78; these judges are pretty picky,” Chen Han reassured her.

Xu Zhizhi subtly nodded, “I know.” Then began the lengthy wait, and Chen Han eventually emerged again. Her score closely matched her expectations at 9.68.

Although it was below the average, she was still satisfied. She had acted in ancient dramas and idol dramas, where many directors had little demand for acting skills, leading her to neglect her craft over time.

The female lead’s role was announced along with her score; the winning score was 9.91, attributed to a woman with a gentle appearance, lacking the dazzling or striking presence. She hadn’t won any Best Actress or Best Actor awards, belonging to a tier roughly parallel to Xu Zhizhi.

Having scrutinized the competition, Xu Zhizhi understood immediately why she was selected; her physical attributes and demeanor closely resembled those of the character. The mere 0.02 points Xu Zhizhi fell short likely stemmed from that.

She felt not an ounce of regret; after all, these roles were not exclusive to her. Just like with her previous audition for the ancient drama’s antagonist role, it wasn’t guaranteed merely because she had exerted effort—others had worked hard too.

Those who received similar updates only left somewhat begrudgingly. Xu Zhizhi and Chen Han discussed heading to a private restaurant to try Sichuan cuisine, aiming for a bit of spice.

Their assistants and agents naturally joined, as a larger group made for a more lively outing. Before heading out, they donned masks and hats, chatting and laughing as they exited the hotel.

At that moment, a man blocked Xu Zhizhi’s path. “Director Zhou requests your presence,” he said politely.

Xu Zhizhi was startled for a moment; she realized she hadn’t specifically checked in with Director Zhou. Her intent was to visit him later, avoiding potential gossip about using connections.

She didn’t bother too much; after all, Zhou was innocent.

Initially, Chen Han was reluctant to go, but Xu Zhizhi pulled her along. Soon, they reached the audition venue, with Xu Zhizhi cheerfully calling out, “Uncle Zhou!”

“You didn’t make the cut; feeling dejected?” Zhou greeted casually, seated comfortably without any company beside him, signaling Xu Zhizhi to sit as well.

Xu Zhizhi shook her head, “I was mentally prepared; I came here for experience.”

Chen Han was aware of Zhou’s slight social anxiety, choosing to sit further away from him. Many others were present, and previous judges smiled at Xu Zhizhi upon seeing her.

“That role you tried for mainly fell short in appearance,” Zhou said directly. Xu Zhizhi chuckled and nodded, “Then I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Enough chit-chat; come audition for the second female lead role tomorrow. I believe that character is better than the female lead’s. The key is she is described as beautiful in the script, and you fit that character perfectly,” Zhou stated clearly, explaining why he asked Xu Zhizhi to come.

Having reviewed the script, Xu Zhizhi knew about the second female lead’s role. She was, in reality, a very realistic character and highly relatable.

If the female lead was presented as perfect, then this female second lead was not just an… imperfect character but one whose initial disposition might turn others off.

In early scenes, when many were unaware, this character was aggressive and unruly, wielding a kitchen knife while in-law’s houses. She would curse at anyone arriving, forcibly claiming her in-laws’ wealth and land.

Even when the male and female leads came to visit, they were often chased away. She hurled foul language and was mutually despised among villagers.

As roads were to be constructed, she obstinately refused to cede even a part of her land, demonstrating relentless defiance, rallying others with claims of insufficient compensation.

As the plot progressed, she continued to obstruct poverty alleviation efforts. Regardless of the endeavors made, she would insist on rejecting everything proposed.

Slowly, however, the female lead grew to understand this female second lead, who was only two years her senior. Utilizing plain facts and rational arguments, she broke down the character’s walls.

Eventually, after discussing their backgrounds, the second lead would unveil her reasons. She was a young, single mother from the village; her husband had died while working on-site, and she was left to struggle alone with a daughter and son.

Despite this, her in-laws offered no support and attempts to seize all of her husband’s compensation, insinuating she would abandon the children if given money.

Her frequent “visits” to her in-laws were attempts to silence them while also asserting her claim to funds for her children’s education—aiming for them to attend high school and college in the future.

The crux of her anger arose when her husband’s younger brother schemed to claim her funds, even preparing to live with her, feigning a relationship to eventually marry her and swallow all compensation whole.

As for the land in question, it was where she intended to establish a grave for her husband; according to local customs, being buried there would bless their children.

The character was essentially a determined young single mother living in the countryside, a pure trope from a poverty alleviation narrative.

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