The bright hall felt like it was tilting. An Ran couldn't remember how she'd entered the audition room... one moment Qin Mo's gasping face filled her vision, and the next she was standing on a polished stage, lights searing down on her, a panel of strangers staring.
Her knees wobbled. Her palms were damp.
The judges sat in a long row, their faces shadowed yet sharp. At the center was an older man with silver hair combed neatly back. His eyes were hawk-like, cold, cutting through her. Beside him, a woman with bold red lipstick tapped her pen impatiently. And a little further down, Chen Mian, poised in her elegant blazer, hands folded like she was watching with detached curiosity.
An Ran's chest tightened. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't have auditioned. I should've stayed invisible.
The old man's low voice rumbled across the hall.
"Girl, are you going to stand there like a statue all day?" His tone was clipped, irritated.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. She opened her mouth, but no words came.
Another woman, one of the school's teachers, snapped sharply.
"If you can't perform and you're here to waste our time, then get out. There are others who actually prepared for this."
The humiliation stung. An Ran pressed her lips together, forcing herself not to tremble. With stiff fingers, she held out the worn page she'd prepared. A stagehand passed it along to the judges.
Silence as they read.
Then a ripple. One of the judges' eyes widened as he scanned the text. He glanced at the others, his brows raising.
The passage was not an easy one. From The Queen, the part where the doomed heroine begs for her siblings' lives before the council, only to watch them die before her eyes. A tragic, gut-wrenching scene.
One of the younger judges muttered under his breath, "This girl… bold choice."
An Ran barely heard them. Her heart was pounding so hard it drowned out everything. She closed her eyes, inhaled sharply, and when she opened them, the world around her blurred into the scene.
•••
The wooden floors beneath her shoes melted into the dusty ground of the village square. She was no longer An Ran, quiet girl in a corner. She was the queen, kneeling, wrists bound, shoulders shaking.
Her voice cracked as she pleaded, words tearing out of her throat:
"Please, please don't hurt them! They are innocent, it was my fault! Punish me, but let them go!"
Tears streamed freely, her chest heaving. She thrashed against invisible ropes, wrists burning, knees bruising against the floor.
In her mind, it wasn't her siblings she saw, it was Qin Mo. His trembling hands, his panicked eyes, his voice whispering her name before collapsing.
"This is all my fault," she thought desperately. "If anything happens to him… how would I live?"
Her cries deepened, her body curling in anguish. She screamed until her throat tore raw, sobbing like the world was ending.
Then silence.
The stage lights pressed hot against her skin. She stayed hunched on the ground, shoulders quaking, her head bowed low. The only sound in the hall was her broken sniffles echoing.
•••
When she finally dared to lift her head, she froze.
The judges weren't speaking. They were staring.
One woman had tears streaking her mascara. Another judge covered his mouth, visibly shaken. The old man with the hawk-like eyes leaned forward, expression unreadable.
Then, slowly...
Clap.
It was Chen Mian. Her hands came together in elegant rhythm, her gaze fixed on An Ran with something sharp and assessing. A faint smile played on her lips.
The rest followed, the hall filling with applause.
An Ran sat frozen in disbelief.
Chen Mian set her pen down. "Not bad," she said smoothly, her voice carrying across the room. "Not bad at all."
The applause faded into the scratching of pens as the judges scribbled notes.
•••
An Ran untied the rope from her wrists with trembling fingers. Rising unsteadily, she bowed, then left the stage. Her legs felt numb as she stumbled out of the hall.
Outside, the murmurs of students greeted her.
"She probably got scolded."
"You mean rejected. Honestly, I'd rather not audition at all than be humiliated like that."
"Now I'm scared to go in…"
Their whispers wrapped around her like thorns. She ignored them, wiping hastily at her damp cheeks. All she could think about was Qin Mo.
Her hands clutched her bag... and without hesitation, she grabbed his too.
She turned, scanning desperately. And then, she caught sight of Jiang Cheng at the far end of the corridor, climbing the stairs.
"Jiang Cheng!" she cried, her voice still hoarse from acting.
He turned. His expression softened slightly as he saw her flushed face.
An Ran ran to him, breathless. "Do you… do you know where Qin Mo was taken?"
Jiang Cheng studied her quietly for a moment, then nodded. His voice was steady, calm, like an anchor. "Hospital. I'll take you."
She blinked rapidly, tears threatening again. "Thank you."
He pulled out his phone, made a brief call, and within minutes a sleek black car rolled up to the curb. A chauffeur stepped out, opening the door for them.
The ride was a blur of city lights, her reflection trembling in the tinted glass. Her thoughts kept spiraling back to Qin Mo's pale face, his ragged breaths, his scars.
Her fingers clenched tight around the strap of her bag. "Please… please let him be okay," she whispered under her breath.
•••
The hospital smell hit her the moment they entered—sterile, sharp, suffocating.
Jiang Cheng walked beside her, his steps purposeful, his presence steady as if he knew she'd crumble without it.
They turned down a white corridor, nurses passing briskly, the hum of machines in the air. At the end, a ward door stood half-open.
Her heart pounded.
They stepped inside.
And there...
Qin Mo lay on the bed, pale as paper, an oxygen mask covering his face, wires and tubes surrounding him.
An Ran's breath caught.
The world tilted again.