"Good, that’s a wrap!" the director nodded with satisfaction, and after calling cut, Ophelia Wilson trotted over to James Reed’s side, smiling sweetly at him, "How did I do?"
"Of course, it was great." James Reed smiled at Ophelia Wilson in her police uniform, which gave her a touch of heroic spirit, but... it was just a tad lacking.
"Where’s Sophie Wilson?" the director turned and asked, and someone next to him immediately replied, "In makeup, she’ll be ready soon."
"Alright, make sure the light hits from over there..." the director instructed the crew on set, striving to achieve the effect he wanted.
This scene was where the second female lead was egged on to perform a dance on stage, the same segment that Sophie Wilson had auditioned for earlier.
Now, naturally, the on-site environment exceeded that of the original audition by a large margin.
The stage and lighting were all in place.
"Where is she?" the director asked, wasn’t this makeup taking a bit too long?
A person beside him was just about to urge them when they turned around and were stunned by the person behind them, staring dumbfounded.
After asking, with no one responding, the director got anxious and, as he raised his head to scold, his mouth opened but not a word could he say, staring in awe at the person before him. The source of thɪs content is 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝✶𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮✶𝓷𝓮𝓽
"Don’t block the way!" Sophie Wilson slightly raised her exquisite chin, glancing at the director with a sidelong look.
Despite the arrogance in her action, it didn’t leave the director feeling the least bit offended, rather... his face felt a bit warm.
Her eyes, distinctly black and white, had a hint of peach blossom’s rosy hue at the corners, her gaze flowing and alluring.
His heart, long worn and roughened by time, suddenly felt as if it had been electrified, thump-thump-thumping wildly.
A black, tight-fitting long dress showcased all of Sophie Wilson’s enticing figure’s advantages. The thin straps of her black high heels twined around her fair, straight calves, a stark black and white contrast that dazzled the eyes.
The thick heel exuded a hint of cool hardness, yet Sophie Wilson trod on this hardness, casually striding to the front of the stage, turning her head, and raising an eyebrow at the director, "Aren’t we starting?"
The director jolted back to his senses, hastily waving a hand.
The clapperboard snapped sharply, and the film set instantly came to life.
Pounding, dynamic music blared out, the ultra-bass thudding against everyone’s hearts.
But even more intense and fiery than this music was Sophie Wilson on stage.
Hair flipping, waist twisting, spinning.
Each move carried a marvelous rhythm, as if unseen currents flowed from her hair tips and fingertips into the air, sparking ripples and quickly dispersing.
Making everyone around feel a tremor at their core, wishing they could scream and dance wildly themselves.
The extras had already plunged into such revelry, needing no prompting, clapping, screaming, and twisting along.
With so many people dancing wildly together, none could overshadow Sophie Wilson’s brilliance.
On the stage, her eyes were full of expressions, alluring, as if she were a fairy who had cultivated for millennia, descended into the mortal world, enchanting all beings.
She was born to be adored; every smile and frown tugged at people’s heartstrings, making them willing to live or die for her.
The curve of her red lips, a blink of her beautiful eyes, electrified people into a daze, wanting this little enchantress to devour them whole.
James Reed never knew that a dance could be so exhilarating, heart-racing.