One week later, at the temporary audition site for Smoke of War, noon.
The meticulously arranged set, originally brimming with the charm of a bygone era, was now shrouded in an unshakable gloom.
Director Li Mo sat on a folding chair, clutching a script outline in his hand, his brows furrowed tightly. He let out a heavy sigh.
In just a week, everything had turned upside down.
Wang Hai, the assistant director, and Li Jinfu, the chief producer—two core members of his Smoke of War team—had suddenly been exposed in a shocking scandal.
The scale of their tax evasion was staggering, and the evidence of bribing officials was irrefutable.
Most appalling of all, an old case involving the assault of an underage girl, leaving her severely injured, had resurfaced.
Rumors said the Gu family had openly pressured higher authorities, demanding the harshest punishment.
With influential families applying pressure and multiple charges stacked against them, the sentence could even be execution by firing squad.
While Li Mo inwardly cursed the two scumbags, he also agonized over the fate of his passion project, his hair graying from stress.
The carefully assembled crew had collapsed overnight.
Several key investors, spooked by the scandal, had bolted like frightened rabbits, leaving the funding chain in tatters.
But what truly weighed on his heart were the actors.
The lead actors he had chosen were seasoned performers he had worked with before, both widely respected.
Qin Lang, who played the male lead Zhou Zhengyang, was a rugged yet composed middle-aged actor. At the moment, he stood nearby flipping through the script, his expression tense with reluctance.
Zhou Zhengyang held a key position among the reformist faction—a resolute, principled man devoted to his country.
Chen Jing, who portrayed the female lead Shen Yunshu, sat quietly in a corner chair, dressed in an elegant cheongsam, a cup of coffee in hand. Her delicate features were shadowed with worry.
Shen Yunshu came from a scholarly family, a supporter of progressive ideals, and worked as a doctor in a missionary hospital—a kind, resilient woman and Zhou Zhengyang’s partner.
The two had come today partly to support the audition for the female supporting role and partly to gauge the state of the production.
The character Su Qianqian was auditioning for, Lin Wan, was something of a junior to Zhou Zhengyang and Shen Yunshu, both of whom looked out for her.
Shen Yunshu, in particular, treated her like a younger sister.
The three shared the same mentor.
Qin Lang finally broke the oppressive silence. "Director Li, is there any hope for this drama? It’s not that I’m disloyal, but..."
He left the sentence hanging, but the implication was clear.
With producers and assistant directors now infamous for their crimes, the project was tainted before filming even began.
The lead actors had their own reputations and futures to consider.
Chen Jing spoke up as well, her gentle voice tinged with resignation. "Director Li, we’re not trying to abandon ship."
"But given the circumstances—the funding gap, the collapsed crew, the public backlash... it’s just..."
Li Mo raked a hand through his hair, crumpling the script outline further.
"I know. I understand your concerns."
His voice was weary.
"Damn it, who could’ve guessed those two bastards were hiding so much filth? They deserve to be shot!"
He paused, then continued with stubborn defiance.
"All the trendy dramas now—youth romances, historical female leads, fantasy epics—they’re all just factory-made fluff. People are sick of them."
"But Smoke of War is different. It’s about those three years of upheaval, where ideals shattered against reality, where people were torn between loyalty and conscience."
"And Lin Wan’s character—though she’s the supporting role, her struggle is brutal. Caught between her oath to heal and her old master’s orders, forced to watch the people she admires most pushed toward ruin..."
"That kind of torment, that tragedy—if I don’t tell this story, I’ll never forgive myself."
At the mention of Lin Wan, Qin Lang and Chen Jing fell silent.
In the script, Zhou Zhengyang and Shen Yunshu genuinely cherished their bright, kind-hearted junior.
Zhou Zhengyang admired her medical skill and resilience, while Shen Yunshu saw her as a little sister in need of protection.
That bond made Lin Wan’s betrayal all the more unbearable.
Chen Jing sighed softly, speaking from Shen Yunshu’s perspective. "That girl... she really had it hard."
Qin Lang nodded, his gaze complicated. "Zhou Zhengyang could never fully hate her, even at the end."
"Frustrated by her choices, furious at her disloyalty—but that sorrow stayed with him for life."
Chen Jing agreed, then pointed out a harsher truth. "Originally, there were over a dozen actresses lined up for Lin Wan’s audition, each with fifteen minutes. But look—it’s this late, and no one’s shown up..."
Just then, a staff member hurried over, cutting through the heavy atmosphere.
"Director Li, Teacher Qin, Teacher Chen—the auditioning actress is here."
Li Mo took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus. "Who is it?"
"Well... it’s a newcomer from Shen Media, Su Qianqian. She was supposed to be last, but since none of the others came..."
Li Mo waved a hand. "Let her in."
"At this point, we might as well see what she’s got."
Exhaustion and uncertainty laced his voice—after all, she was a rookie who had only acted in two scenes before.
The door opened quietly.
A slender, graceful figure stepped inside.
Her long hair cascaded softly over her shoulders, her face free of makeup, radiating purity.
Su Qianqian’s clear almond eyes swept over the despondent set before settling on the director and the two leads.
These actors were also seniors from Shen Media—her manager, Wang, had briefed her beforehand.
She dipped her head slightly in polite greeting.
"Director Li, Teacher Qin, Teacher Chen—good afternoon."
