By the time television crews arrived to interview students on campus, Qin Ting and her assistant, Xiao Zhou, were already fleeing a restroom in disgrace. An Insta360 camera still hung crookedly around Qin Ting's neck.
No matter what happened, she could not let another camera catch her today.
Qin Ting had barely dipped one toe into the man-eating entertainment industry before everyone branded her a “resource-backed actress.” Even she found the label convincing, though she had no idea who was supposedly giving her those resources.
She had never attended drama school. Her career began with brainless, melodramatic short-form series, and everything she starred in flopped. No matter how many trending topics a production chased, once she became the lead, its audience vanished like a loach flushed down a toilet—two spins, then gone without a trace.
Yet someone like her had somehow been selected as the second female lead in director Qin Sheng's lavish new film, a project built from the ground up to win next year's prestigious Zunying Award.
If Qin Ting had been cast as the heroine, people might not have cursed her quite so viciously.
Qin Sheng was unlike other directors. In every competition film he made, the second female lead received extraordinary depth, and often ended up with the male lead. To realize that role exactly as he imagined it, he had always hired formidable actresses. A glance at his past casts showed women with at least two Best Actress trophies apiece.
He also deliberately chose male leads and second female leads he considered exceptionally well matched.
The public cared about who would win the Zunying Award, held once every four years. But they cared even more about which two actors Qin Sheng would personally pair.
A month earlier, the official account for his film Sunny Day had appeared. At the same time, the industry's most famous paparazzo posted two names:
Male lead: Zou Songpu. Second female lead: Qin Ting.
The internet exploded.
#QinShengSunnyDay, #WhoIsQinTing, #ZouSongpu, #LadyWhoEvenAreYou, and #LookingForwardToPowerhouseActorZouSongpu occupied the top searches with black-red “EXPLOSIVE” labels. Half an hour later, the platform stopped refreshing entirely. The servers had crashed.
Zou Songpu, the film's leading man, had debuted as a child actor at five. His awards could cover a wall. At the start of the year, he won Best Actor again, becoming the youngest performer ever to take the prize three consecutive times.
Unlike many child stars, acting had not ruined his education. He entered an elite experimental program at Z University after placing first on the entrance examination.
He was famously aloof. After appearing on one variety show, he rarely spoke in public. Yet nine-photo selfie grids and photo logs continued to appear on his social account, and stories about him helping strangers at airports regularly trended, drawing an endless stream of new fans.
Compared with him, Qin Ting belonged on another planet.
As his fans put it, she would need to pay for the privilege of interning beside the assistant to his assistant.
Before this film, Qin Ting had been both a short-drama actress and a pet content creator. Several days each week, she fitted her cat, Tingting, with an Insta360 and livestreamed its day from a cat's-eye view. She herself never appeared on camera.
Six months of careful operation and constant algorithmic promotion from her company had not made the account famous, but several clips had trended. She earned enough to satisfy the shopping impulse that struck her every few years—such as the new cordless vacuum she had bought to clean up her own cat hair.
On Saturday morning, Xiao Zhou burst into Qin Ting's home, dragged her from bed, ripped up her sleep mask, pried open her eyelids, and announced that management wanted her at an audition for Qin Sheng's new film.
Qin Ting's sleep-deprived brain stopped functioning.
“Zhou, has your sleepwalking become so severe that you can drive fifteen kilometers to my home? Didn't the police notice your eyes were closed?” Qin Ting pulled the mask beneath her chin and pointed to her dark circles. “I edited until four. Don't do this to me. I still have to livestream today.”
“I'm not dreaming! The boss called me into his office and said he used a major connection to put your information in front of the director. Qin Sheng is at Z University right now. They want you there immediately—in a white T-shirt, any athletic pants, and a high ponytail. Sister, you're about to become famous!”
Xiao Zhou shook her shoulders until the room spun. Qin Ting forced her to stop, stumbled into the closet, threw on something that met the instructions, and rushed to the campus.
Her videos never drew spectacular traffic, and her follower count grew slowly. Even with the cat-perspective livestream, she ranked only somewhere in the middle among pet creators.
Why would a director like Qin Sheng give her a chance?
Had her boss trusted AI again? After using a chatbot for fortune-telling, had he now asked it to fabricate her résumé?
She doubted everything, but a corporate workhorse obeyed orders. If the boss claimed capybaras had modeled themselves after coin-operated rocking rides outside convenience stores, she would still applaud his groundbreaking biological discovery.
Besides, there was no harm in going. Z University was one of the nation's finest training grounds for actors and rarely admitted outsiders.
Qin Ting packed a thumb camera, cat carrier, harness, and athletic clothes. Her pathetic acting skills could not keep an audition going long. Afterward, she could livestream around the famous campus.
Z University was beautifully landscaped. Squirrels ran down trees for fallen pinecones. The grass looked soft enough to roll in. There was even a park and artificial lake, where two couples drifted in little boats.
The farther Qin Ting walked, the happier she became. She had never livestreamed on a campus. Z University's name alone would bring more viewers than usual.
Xiao Zhou led her to a second-floor corridor and stopped.
“Sister Ting, the production said only the actor may enter. I'll walk around the park and scout things out. Call me when you're done.”
Qin Ting handed her the cat carrier, approached the door, knocked, and entered after hearing a response.
She expected a crowd of candidates. Instead, five people sat in a row. Four had nameplates before them.
“Hello, Director Qin and respected teachers. I'm actress Qin Ting. I've appeared in short dramas such as I Woke Up as My Cheating Husband's Mistress's Best Friend! and After Dreaming I Kicked a Mixed-Race Scumbag, I Woke Inside My Own Dream as the Lowest Maid in His Household...”
The room fell awkwardly silent.
Qin Ting obediently closed her mouth. None of those titles could have appeared in the résumé her boss sent.
Director Qin Sheng sat behind a nameplate reading DIRECTOR, a pencil balanced precariously over one ear. His face remained expressionless as he handed her a sheet of paper and told her to begin.
Qin Ting accepted it with both hands.
The A4 page was completely blank.
What did that mean?
“I heard you never studied acting professionally,” said someone beside Qin Sheng, wearing a cap and mask. His voice was low and hoarse. “You may take five minutes to prepare.”
She thanked him aloud and rolled her eyes internally.
They had given her nothing and still expected a performance. Were they playing with her?
Fine. If this place had no room for a cat like her, another would. She would return to her cheap short dramas.
Qin Ting demonstrated the Muay Thai she had studied for six months, followed by vertical and horizontal splits. Several backflips ended the farce.
She wiped away sweat and cursed her boss a hundred times.
Please stop inventing things. Why trust a chatbot? You should have sent Ning Jiajia's résumé. She's at least our company's rising star. She has made more full-length dramas than I have short ones, and fans greet her at airports. What am I?
“Are you available for six months beginning early next month?” Qin Sheng asked. “We delayed because the role was never settled. After watching that performance, I believe you are exactly who I need. I hear you also operate a media account. I will discuss that with your company.”
Qin Ting stared.
She had passed?
In a daze, she answered several questions unrelated to the script. Before leaving, the only detail she retained was that she should report to the production on the twentieth of the following month.
Outside, she called Xiao Zhou.
“My dear Zhou, your sister may actually become famous.”
“What happened? Did Director Qin scold you so badly that your ears popped out and someone photographed them?” Xiao Zhou immediately offered a plan. “Say they were props for a special talent, hidden beneath your wig. I'll edit the clarification video. We're not famous enough for the scandal to last anyway.”
“Could you wish me well for once? I'm joining the production next month.” Qin Ting sighed. “I have no idea how badly people will curse me. Who knew the director could find a use for my worthless scraps?”
“Don't worry. A film is good news. People used to complain that we only made brainless short dramas. Let's see what they say after a Qin Sheng film. If we'd had money, would we have accepted every terrible offer?”
Xiao Zhou's thoughts leaped again.
“Did you see Zou Songpu? Is he unbelievably handsome?”
“No. He probably left. They chose the man first and the woman second, remember? He'll probably take Best Actor again.”
Ignoring Xiao Zhou's wail over missing her idol, Qin Ting told her to wait near the park with the carrier and athletic clothes.
Once changed and fitted with the camera, Qin Ting stretched all four paws and ran toward the lawn.
She had slept badly, and the audition result had struck her like a hammer. Her head still spun. But the sight of squirrels filled her with energy. She chased one until it fled up a tree.
Several strays played with her. Students scattered cat food, and Qin Ting bolted. Xiao Zhou arrived in time to explain that her cat ate prescription food and could not accept treats.
After what happened before, Qin Ting never ate food offered by strangers.
They streamed for ninety minutes before the camera battery ran low. Xiao Zhou picked her up, put on a mask, and told viewers that Tingting would stay in their hometown for roughly six months. The signal there was poor, so livestreams would be rare. Then she ended the broadcast.
Back inside the company van, Qin Ting thought she heard whispering outside. She assumed students were passing.
Only after changing back did she realize they were Zou Songpu's stalker fans.
They had mistaken the modest van for the low-profile vehicle he used that day. Phones and enormous camera lenses pressed wildly against the windows.
The endless shutters triggered Qin Ting instantly.
Someone had leaked that Qin Sheng and Zou Songpu were discussing the film at Z University. Reporters had come too. Seeing a crowd and hearing cameras, they assumed the two men were inside and surged toward the van.
Terror made Qin Ting's ears and tail burst out. Xiao Zhou had gone to the restroom. The engine was off and a window stood slightly open; several phones were already forcing through the gap.
Her ears turned toward the swelling footsteps and voices. Qin Ting pinched herself hard, threw open the door, and fled.
“Hello, viewers! Reliable sources say Zou Songpu and Director Qin are in this van. Follow and tap those hearts—I'm close with Director Qin and will ask about the film... Wait! Why did a cosplayer just run out?”
Qin Ting no longer cared who saw her. The instant the door opened, she clutched her hat and the jacket tied around her waist, sprinting toward the restroom Xiao Zhou had entered.
Screams erupted. The stalkers could not accept a costumed woman emerging from what they believed was Zou Songpu's vehicle. Livestreamers grew ecstatic as their numbers soared.
Qin Ting had left without the key, so the van could not be locked. Finding it empty, the mob decided she knew something and pursued her like a zombie horde.
The camera still hung over her chest. One hand steadied it; the other held her loose hat. Her ears refused to retract, so the hat would not sit properly.
Every shutter sounded like thunder beside her. Her hair stood on end.
She ran faster, crashing through everything. Had she not managed to restore human arms and legs, she would already have climbed a tree in full public view.
The restroom appeared ahead. Qin Ting lowered her brim, rushed inside without looking, yanked open a random stall, and squeezed herself in.
With shaking hands, she sent Xiao Zhou her location and a breathless message.
“I'm here. Come quickly.”
Then she looked up.
“...”
So public restroom stalls at Z University were extremely cramped. Apparently, they could not even fit two people.
Someone pressed the flush button. Rushing water covered Qin Ting's heartbeat, but not the heavy breathing of a man whose privacy had just been invaded.
A shadow loomed over her.
Her gaze dropped to a pair of leather shoes.
The air froze.