I was counter-schemed by the president

1:00 PM. Top floor of Liuhuan Film and Entertainment Company. President's office. The man had a pair of gold-rimmed glasses on his prominent nose, his thin lips pressed into a straight line, and the distinct contour of his jawbone was faintly visible in the sunlight. His well-defined fingers swiftly sifted through one resume after another. Accidentally, his gaze swept over a name, and his movements slowed down. Staring at the resume, Bi Xiuyun spoke with interest, "Song Qinghuan?" Ni Ke, dressed in a loose T-shirt and lounging on the sofa with his legs crossed, was engrossed in playing a mobile game and didn’t hear Bi Xiuyun’s words. After more than ten seconds, the man slowly put down his phone, looked up with a hint of confusion, and asked, "What’s up?" "Weren’t we not planning to audition newcomers this time?" Bi Xiuyun watched Ni Ke, his hair messy from the night before, his gaze probing or perhaps questioning through his tousled locks. Ni Ke ran his fingers through his somewhat long hair, "Initially, she was filtered out during the first round of resume screening, but then Sister Shen called." At this point, there was no need for further explanation; Bi Xiuyun understood the implication. Nepotism. Ni Ke uneasily glanced at the expressionless man sitting at the office desk, cleared his throat, and spoke somewhat awkwardly, "Xiuyun, Sister Shen has helped us a lot in the past." His eyes dodged slightly; such nepotism was always hard to justify, especially since Bi Xiuyun has been known for his integrity in the entertainment industry for years, despising the practice of inserting people through connections. Even in the resource-driven, murky world of show business, Bi Xiuyun never once asked for a favor or took a shortcut. That’s why, when the company was first established five years ago, Bi Xiuyun’s first requirement was that casting must be transparent, and the company’s own productions could absolutely not involve script-padding, adding scenes for actors, let alone financing roles. It was precisely these strict standards that rapidly propelled Liuhuan Film and Entertainment to rise and secure a firm foothold in the industry over the years, turning its artists into top-tier celebrities. Ni Ke, noticing the man’s furrowed brows, remembered past incidents, felt a sudden tightness in his throat, and his heart raced. Bi Xiuyun remained silent, lowering his head again to stare at the resume with only a few words on it. Song Qinghuan, female, 25 years old. The past experience section was blank; she hadn’t taken on any roles. No affiliated agency or past work experience either. The most noticeable thing on the entire resume, aside from the name, was the photo. After staring at that aged ID photo for a good thirty seconds, Bi Xiuyun finally lowered his voice, his expression returning to calm, and said, "What did Shen Qiang tell you?" Ni Ke exited the game, tossed his phone onto the sofa, and straightened his messy hair, "Just to give her a screen test, she guaranteed a surprise." Bi Xiuyun didn’t respond, just chuckled softly. His chuckle sent shivers down Ni Ke’s spine, who quickly added, "Hey, hey, if you don’t want to insert her, I can find an excuse to fail her at the audition, it’s okay. Anyway, she’s not young anymore." Bi Xiuyun rubbed his somewhat aching temples; indeed, being 25 and without any notable works was a bit slow by entertainment industry standards. "What time is the screen test this afternoon?" "If nothing goes wrong, it should be at 3 PM." This wasn’t Ni Ke’s first time directing. Since entering the industry, they, who initially debuted as a boy band, leveraged their popularity to advance faster than other artists from their generation. Less than two years post-debut, they released albums, acted in dramas, and every new endeavor brought them awards, achieving grand slams, even after the band dissolved and Bi Xiuyun started the company while Ni Ke turned to directing. His debut work was nominated for numerous awards, showcasing a fearless, youthful vigor. However, the play he was directing this time was particularly challenging. "Phantom Heart Voice" was originally a web IP script, adapted into a TV drama nine years ago. The filming was halfway done when the actress playing the second female lead, Luo Die, committed suicide by jumping off the hotel where the crew stayed, due to depression. It became a major tragedy that shocked the entertainment industry, leading to the shutdown of the production, with losses amounting to tens of millions, and the drama was never completed. Since then, no director dared to take on "Phantom Heart Voice." Nine years later, Bi Xiuyun acquired the movie rights to the script and handed it over to Ni Ke. The news of the remake had just been released, attracting media from all quarters, almost swamping the office building of Liuhuan. That was also the source of his irritability. The more the remake, the higher the cost and risk, and the harder it was to select actors. Just for roles with only one scene, they received a stack of resumes. Ni Ke reviewed a batch a few days ago, eliminated some newcomers, and the remaining resumes were eventually handed over to Bi Xiuyun. Bi Xiuyun closed the pile of resumes, his fingers moving to the keyboard, "Since Shen Qiang has spoken, let’s give her a chance to audition." With that, he typed Song Qinghuan’s name into the search bar. 3:00 PM. The spacious conference hall was bustling with people. Actors and their agents were mingling, filling the air with their chatter. This audition attracted almost half of the entertainment industry. Ni Ke’s directorial debut three years ago, "Glass Mirror," transformed the newcomer Qu Zhenzhen into an award-winning actress, achieving a grand slam of accolades and propelling her from an obscure newcomer to top-tier fame overnight. With such a precedent, many young actresses were eager to star in "Phantom Heart Voice," seeing it as a fast track to stardom with Ni Ke and Liuhuan backing them. The woman sat quietly in the corner, out of sync with the lively atmosphere of the hall. Her long curly hair draped behind her ears, her forehead full and smooth, captivating eyes paired with long lashes slightly trembling, leading down to her delicate nose and rosy lips. Her lips were somewhat thin, with the corners naturally tilted upwards, softening the overall harmony of her features. She leaned against the wall, feeling her heart pounding. An hour passed, and the crowd in the corridor had thinned. Watching the conference room doors open and close, she saw many disappointed faces. Having heard about Ni Ke’s strict audition standards, she hadn’t expected to see someone crying while leaving the audition room. Furrowing her brows, Song Qinghuan clasped her nervously intertwined hands. "Next, Song Qinghuan."