Tang Li had just sat down when her cellphone rang in her pocket. Seeing it was a call from Feng Qi, she excused herself to Song Baiyan, pushing open the door to take the call outside.
Feng Qi was calling now because the audition results for "Phoenix Concubine" had come out.
In the corridor, Tang Li held her cellphone and listened as Feng Qi told her the production team had chosen a newcomer named Jiang Yiniing for the role of Mrs. Bao. This was within her expectations. What surprised Feng Qi, however, was that he couldn’t believe that she’d be passed over. After all, among the newcomers, Tang Li’s acting was considered pretty good.
If Tang Li lost the role to a veteran actor, it would have been understandable. The problem was that her competitor was also a newcomer, and one propped up by hype at that.
"Jiang Yiniing was my classmate," Tang Li told Feng Qi, also sharing her guess: "The role of Mrs. Bao was likely prearranged. The audition may have just been for appearances."
Feng Qi hadn’t expected this, as the director was Zhao Zhenglei. Based on Zhao Zhenglei’s past reputation in the industry, normally neither producers nor financiers would intervene in his casting decisions.
Clearly, this time was different.
On the other end of the phone, Feng Qi’s voice softened, "I’ll handle this matter. You don’t need to worry about it. Just focus on filming when you return to Diannan."
Tang Li ended the call and returned to the private room.
Several dishes of cold appetizers were already on the table.
Hearing Tang Li had failed another audition, Song Baiyan unfolded a napkin onto his lap, "Getting into this industry, too smooth a start isn’t necessarily a good thing. Actually, it’s the same with anything. If the beginning is too smooth, a future fall might hit you harder than those who’ve struggled and climbed their way up."
"I know," Tang Li nodded. "I’m indeed somewhat disappointed at not getting the role, but I never assumed it was mine to begin with."
After all, Mrs. Bao was played by someone else in her past life.
Now, having the chance to start over, and the role ending up in Jiang Yiniing’s hands, it was ultimately the result of the butterfly effect she had caused.
Seeing her clear gaze, Song Baiyan leaned back and commented, "No matter how much others say, it’s not as good as your own understanding. A truly strong person first needs to learn to pick up and let go. Dwelling on failure will only bring about more setbacks."
"So, you’re a strong person inside," Tang Li added.
Song Baiyan smiled, "Whether someone is strong or not sometimes doesn’t have clear criteria. If you want to be perceived as strong, then you must ensure that no one truly knows how many cards you hold."
Don’t let anyone truly understand you.
Tang Li felt that this was akin to the art of a sovereign, and only someone like Song Baiyan could articulate such shrewdness in a way that sounded so fresh and refined.
Take Lai Wenyan, for example; if it weren’t for her existence as his illegitimate daughter, he wouldn’t be so quick-tempered. The guiltier one feels, the more prone they are to emotional outburst, which is a big taboo for politicians.
Holding a spoon, Tang Li looked back at Song Baiyan, "If you don’t let others understand you and keep yourself closed off, what if you feel lonely?"
"Feeling lonely means you haven’t found what you truly want at the bottom of your heart. Sharing your heart with others, allowing them to understand you, can only temporarily dispel negative emotions, not a long-term solution," said Song Baiyan as he took the teapot, pouring the pale yellow Biluochun tea into a small green-glazed cup, "The best way to relieve stress for yourself is to find a goal and work tirelessly towards it. When you have less time for idle thoughts, you naturally feel less lonely."