"Julian, come back, don’t disturb the audition," Benjamin Smith called out to his friend, still standing goofily beside Sophie Wilson.
Sophie’s boyfriend had already sat off to the side, so what was Julian still doing there?
"Oh." Julian stumbled back, his steps uncertain and shaky.
He found it increasingly difficult to understand his uncle’s thoughts.
Ophelia Wilson watched Sophie Wilson with anticipation, not believing for a second that Grace Wilson, whom she had specially trained, wouldn’t land the role.
This audition segment was a solo dance for the secondary female lead, passionate and lively.
Grace Wilson’s performance just now was remarkably good, full of tension and highlighting feminine allure; no man could resist the seductive passion of Grace’s dance.
Ophelia wanted to see what Sophie could accomplish.
Sophie suddenly began to move, and though there was no accompanying music, the instant she started dancing, it was as if everyone could miraculously hear the explosive beats of music.
Hip swings, rotations, and her arm movements all carried a beautiful rhythm.
"Rumba," the director softly exclaimed.
Rumba, after all, was known as the dance of love.
Julian, with his strong dance skills, inhaled sharply at the sight of Sophie’s sophisticated dance.
The movements were crisp and neat, achieving a fusion of strength and beauty.
More crucially, the most captivating aspect of Sophie’s dance wasn’t her steps, but her eyes.
Her shimmering eyes, no matter how she spun, stayed fixed on one point.
That direction seemed to hold her lover, her eternal lover.
Her passion, her body and mind, her soul, everything...was offered up entirely to her lover as if in devotion.
Spinning, leaping, long hair swirling.
Her pair of enchanting almond-shaped eyes seemed to come alive, casting a faint peach blossom hue into the air, rippling outward.
Even the air seemed to carry the sweet fragrance of peach blossoms, refreshing and intoxicating.
This wasn’t the scent of peach blossoms; it was unmistakably the scent of love.
Her dance was sultry yet never vulgar.
The graceful sways held an enticing tease, silently inviting her lover to come to her side.
The intensity of love felt like erupting lava, fiercely burning away one’s blood.
"My performance is over," Sophie abruptly stopped her movements, slightly breathless, and looked at the crowd.
Not enough! Keep going!
Inside, the director and others were frantically shouting.
Just when things were getting exciting, it suddenly stopped, making them feel on edge.
"Great, fabulous! I knew you could do it!" Benjamin jumped excitedly, clapping vigorously, then turned to the director and producer to ask, thrilled, "How is she? Impressive, right?"
Only then did the director clear his throat and come back to reality from the thrilling excitement: "Indeed, very good."
"More than good!" Benjamin was nearly unable to contain his excitement, "Look at those eyes, those movements, overflowing with intense love."
"How did you manage to perform so well just now?" Benjamin couldn’t help but ask.
"Because I was looking at my boyfriend," Sophie replied with a beaming smile, her gaze falling on Charles Seymour’s face.
Charles maintained his poker face, seemingly used to it by now, but... try keeping your ears from turning red and your eyes from shining!