A few days later, the school did indeed notify the drama club members to sign up for the “Shanghai Youth Student Drama Competition.”

When the news came, Wen Tingli was sitting with Yan Zhenzhen in the audience, watching classmates rehearse A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

“Tingli, you’re going to enter, right?” Yan Zhenzhen nudged Wen Tingli’s arm.

“If she’s not entering, who is?” a few drama club members chimed in cheerfully from the stage. “Even back at Xiude, our club president Zhao was drooling over her — now that she’s come to Wushi herself, wouldn’t it be a shame if she didn’t help us bring home first prize?”

“Don’t get too excited yet — apparently Principal Michelle strongly opposed sending Wushi students to compete at first. It was only once she found out young Master Lu had signed the recommendation form that she dropped the argument. But she still doesn’t seem to have given up entirely — when I went to pick up materials from the arts department earlier, I saw her personally drawing up the roster of competitors.”

“She’s drawing up the roster?” Yan Zhenzhen looked baffled. “She doesn’t even understand drama — if she picks at random, we might not even place at all. Director Zheng is in charge of the arts department, surely she wouldn’t let Principal Michelle just do as she pleases?”

“Of course Director Zheng doesn’t approve, but with Principal Zou still away, Michelle has full authority over everything on campus right now — there’s nothing Director Zheng can do about it.” That classmate’s tone shifted. “But on my way out, I happened to run into some arts department heads from allied schools who’d come to observe. They mentioned that Le Zhiwen from Huizhen Middle School and Xu Wei’an from Hujiang Middle School would also be entering this competition. The moment Michelle heard that, she suddenly stopped talking about personally drawing up the roster.”

At these words, the auditorium fell into an eerie silence.

Chen Xiaohong, who had been absorbed in a book, sensed something was off and slowly looked up. “What happened?”

“Didn’t you hear? Le Zhiwen and Xu Wei’an are entering too!”

“Who are they?”

“Chen Xiaohong, you, you, you—” Yan Zhenzhen pounded the desk. “Do you ever pay attention to anything besides your studies? Half our school are fans of Xu Wei’an. He was only seventeen when he starred in Rainbow and The Legend of the Fragrant Hills Swordsman — every time the papers mention him, they call him a film prodigy.”

“What about Le Zhiwen?”

“Le Zhiwen is even more impressive,” club president Zhao Qingluo cut in from the stage. “She’s a famous child star — her father is the great director Le Chang. Le Zhiwen started acting in films at age three. Even if you don’t know her name, you’d definitely recognize the roles she’s played. Have you seen The Great Scholar’s School Antics? She’s the little Winter Melon in it.”

“That’s her!” This time, Chen Xiaohong finally recognized it. “I remember, I remember — that adorable little girl who looked just like a New Year picture doll.”

“It’s over, it’s over,” the drama club members murmured to each other. “With those two in the competition, we’re just wasting our time entering at all.”

Zhao Qingluo called from the stage, “Hey, hey, what’s all this? The competition hasn’t even started and you’re already giving up?”

Sadly, her rallying cry had no effect at all — the room remained full of dejected sighs. Zhao Qingluo finally put her hands on her hips and shouted, “Even if, worst case, first and second place go to Le Zhiwen and Xu Wei’an, can’t we still fight for third?”

Wen Tingli said nothing from where she sat — she had no interest in third place. She was aiming for first, nothing less.

Without first place, she couldn’t win the “Yuying Scholarship.” Without the Yuying Scholarship, Michelle would have an excuse to deny her a Wushi registration for the university joint exam.

Zhao Qingluo hopped down off the stage and nudged Wen Tingli’s shoulder. “What are you spacing out about? Don’t tell me you’ve lost your nerve too.”

Wen Tingli slapped the desk. “Do I look scared? Come on, let’s go ask about the competition rules at the arts department.”

Everyone burst out laughing. The two girls bolstered each other’s spirits and headed to the arts department director’s office. Peering inside, they saw quite a few people seated within — men and women, young and old — evidently heads of arts departments from allied schools. Principal Michelle was there as well.

“Director Li, since Hujiang has Xu Wei’an entering, you might as well pre-order the champagne for the celebration.”

The man in question waved his hand modestly. “Oh come now, don’t say that — Huizhen’s got the famous Le Zhiwen too, you know. Even my own mother is a fan of hers.”

Though Michelle said nothing, one could tell she was in unusually high spirits.

Director Zheng caught sight of Zhao Qingluo and Wen Tingli at the door. “You two are here about the competition, aren’t you? Come in.”

Wen Tingli smiled sweetly. “We’d like to understand the competition rules, Director Zheng.”

Director Zheng turned to Michelle in a questioning tone. “Principal Michelle, about the roster—”

Michelle glanced at Wen Tingli, a subtle smile forming. “Even though this competition has two child prodigies entering, as vice principal, I wouldn’t want to dampen our students’ enthusiasm ahead of time. Let’s just say — any student interested in drama may sign up to compete.”

Director Zheng seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “Then that settles it. Zhao Qingluo, post the announcement on the notice board and let students sign up freely. Have the roster turned in by Friday — these are the competition rules, you two should go read them over carefully.”

She seemed to want to add some words of encouragement, but glancing back at the visiting teachers from Hujiang and Huizhen, she ultimately just patted the two girls silently on the shoulder.

Back in the auditorium, Zhao Qingluo and Wen Tingli gathered the drama club members to study the competition rules together.

“The preliminary round is next Monday — a hundred contestants will be chosen to advance to the semifinals. The semifinals will eliminate eighty, leaving twenty, from which ten finalists will be chosen for the championship, runner-up, and third place.”

Wen Tingli picked up where she left off: “As for the judges, there’ll be ten as well, made up of producers from various film companies, the vice chairman of the Shanghai Film Association, and trustees from the various middle schools, rotating in. After each round, a new lottery will determine the next round’s judges, to ensure fairness.”

Though no one expected to actually win, an unprecedented number of students signed up — it turned out most were simply eager to get a close-up look at Xu Wei’an and Le Zhiwen. Even without hope of winning, just the thought of seeing the two stars in person at the competition had everyone buzzing with excitement.

From that day on, every evening after school, countless students flocked laughing and joking to the great hall to rehearse, and the school drama club entered the busiest period since its founding.

Some practiced singing, some rehearsed dance, and one student came up and performed a dazzling sword routine, her graceful, extraordinary movements drawing gasps of admiration from her classmates. According to the girl herself, her grandmother had studied martial arts on Wudang Mountain for several years in her youth, and had personally taught her this sword routine.

The rest of the students, with Yan Zhenzhen leading the pack, sat below the whole time cracking melon seeds and watching the show, cheering wildly for whoever performed well, sometimes even rushing up on stage to present flowers or cause playful mischief. Every evening, the small auditorium rang with constant laughter.

That evening, during intermission, Zhao Qingluo walked onstage and clapped for everyone’s attention.

“Tomorrow’s the preliminary round. Tingli and I have a few words of advice for everyone. Tingli, stop snacking with Yan Zhenzhen over there and come say something.”

Wen Tingli hurriedly wiped her hands clean with a handkerchief, stood up, and straightened her expression. “There are so many contestants in the preliminaries, and each person only gets three minutes. To leave a strong impression on the judges in such a short time, it’s best not to drag out a long introduction beforehand. Dong Yuanyuan, for the sword routine, skip the horse stance at the start — go straight into your most impressive three moves, the ‘Tiger Descending the Mountain’ sequence.

“Liu Xiaoman, both Zhao Qingluo and I think you’re more polished singing ‘Jasmine Flower’ — competitions make everyone nervous enough as it is, so maybe skip the less-familiar ‘Man Jiang Hong’ this time.

“Cheng Si, you’re apparently the only one in the whole city performing the flower-drum dance — that alone is a major highlight, so why not cut that long English self-introduction and go straight into the performance. In short, Zhao Qingluo and I have three pieces of advice: get straight to the point, perform what you know best, and have full confidence in yourself.”

Everyone nodded, thoroughly convinced. Zhao Qingluo smiled at her spirited, eager teammates. “Everyone get some early rest tonight. Tomorrow after school, we’ll meet at the great hall, grab a quick bite of bread and milk, then head straight to the Golden Theater.”

The first round of preliminaries passed quickly — only thirteen Wushi students made it through.

The second round of semifinals eliminated seven more.

By the final round, only Wen Tingli and Zhao Qingluo remained.

Even so, the auditorium remained lively every evening — those eliminated still hoped their classmates could push through to the final round on Wushi’s behalf. Some students grew so absorbed in following the competition that they brought their schoolwork to the auditorium to do there, while Wen Tingli and Zhao Qingluo, having made it to the finals, rehearsed diligently every night until nine-thirty before heading home.

On the day of the finals, Director Zheng of the arts department personally came to cheer the girls on. To help the two students prepare, she’d hired a professional makeup artist from a theater troupe in advance, and borrowed several costumes from the Xinmin Theater.

Their friends crowded around to watch Wen Tingli and Zhao Qingluo try on their makeup and costumes. Someone said, “We’ll finally get to see Le Zhiwen and Xu Wei’an tonight, right? In the earlier rounds there were so many people, I never even got a look at what they performed.”

“You won’t see them. With how famous those two are these days, they come and go with bodyguards — they’ll probably head straight out the back after the competition.”

“I heard that because those two are competing, the major papers have been hyping this event like crazy — tickets at the Golden Theater are going for a whole silver dollar each.” (note)

At this, Zhao Qingluo clutched her chest anxiously, breathing deeply. “What do I do — with so many people watching, if I mess up, won’t I be humiliated in front of thousands?”

“Why worry so much? Just making it to the finals is already impressive.” Director Zheng patted Zhao Qingluo’s shoulder. “No matter what place you and Wen Tingli end up placing, your teachers are proud of you both regardless.”

Once their makeup was done, teachers and students set off together for the Golden Theater in a great procession.

By nightfall, neon lights blazed above the entrance of the Golden Theater; the streets were packed, a sea of young faces as far as the eye could see. Car horns, street vendors’ calls, music, and chatter all mixed together, pounding against everyone’s eardrums.

Suddenly someone shouted excitedly, “Le Zhiwen! Look, quick! That’s Le Zhiwen!”

A white car pulled smoothly up to the theater entrance. The moment it stopped, a lovely figure appeared before the crowd, but before anyone could rush over, several burly men had already whisked Le Zhiwen through the theater doors.

Even so, people craned their necks excitedly, and from the other side came another shout: “Xu Wei’an! Xu Wei’an’s here too!” (note)

At this point, Wushi Middle School’s chartered bus had also arrived nearby, but got stuck at the street corner, unable to move. Fearing they’d be late, Director Zheng simply led the students off the bus and toward the theater on foot, weaving through the least crowded paths, finally managing to escort them, with much effort, to the entrance of the Golden Theater.

Once inside, Wen Tingli suddenly felt the air turn cool — having dined at Shanghai’s finer restaurants before, she recognized this as so-called air conditioning (note).

The backstage dressing room was even more spectacular — dozens of vanity mirrors, rows of glowing light bulbs, mountains of powder and makeup, countless toolboxes, and every mirror station equipped with a begonia-red high-backed sofa. All the staff were busy at work, tense but orderly.

“You two are here for tonight’s finals, I take it.” A middle-aged man in a blue robe hurried over with several young script assistants. “My surname is Zhao. Please, follow me.”

He then turned to Director Zheng. “You’re a teacher from Wushi Middle School, I take it? Please wait here — this competition is run very strictly, you’ll need to wait outside the whole time.”

Director Zheng could only stop, raising a fist to give Wen Tingli and Zhao Qingluo one last burst of encouragement. “Don’t be nervous! You’ve rehearsed this so many times — you’ll definitely be fine!”

The two girls said an anxious goodbye to Director Zheng and followed this Mr. Zhao into another dressing room.

There were ten finalists in all; five or six were already waiting inside. Two of them were Wen Tingli’s old classmates from Xiude, but they too looked extremely nervous, not even daring to greet Wen Tingli loudly upon seeing her.

Seated at the head of the room were two middle-aged men in Western suits; as each contestant entered, the two would check the contestant’s face against the photo on their registration form.

Wen Tingli and Zhao Qingluo had just taken their seats when a commotion arose out in the hallway. Looking out, they saw a crowd surrounding someone as they passed by, a few others trailing along attentively behind.

Being close to the door, Wen Tingli happened to catch a glimpse of the man’s profile — those handsome features, fine as a mountain spring.

She froze. Lu Shicheng?! Wasn’t he supposed to have already left for Nanyang? How could he suddenly show up here?

The whole room stirred with astonishment.

“Isn’t that the young Master Lu of Nanyang Hongye?”

“That’s him — don’t forget, the Lu family is the biggest shareholder behind this competition. If Master Lu hadn’t taken the lead in signing on, this competition would never have grown this big. Director Huang, to show her gratitude, invited him repeatedly to attend in person — but Master Lu wasn’t interested at first. In the end it was Boss Liu himself who came out to invite him, and only then did he agree to come watch. Word is he’ll just make a brief appearance and leave.”

“Quick, go say hello to him!” Led by Manager Zhao, the staff in the room all rushed out at once.

The contestants left behind exchanged glances in the empty room.

A moment of quiet passed, then the commotion outside picked up again. This time, the one being escorted in was a young girl — she wore a long-sleeved, silver-gray gown, a matching pearl tiara on her head, her delicate little face heart-shaped, her eyes lively and expressive, as if they could speak.

Everyone in the room caught their breath. Le Zhiwen was even more beautiful in person than on screen.

Manager Zhao personally escorted Le Zhiwen in, bowing to pull out her chair, then going himself to pour her tea — no one else received such treatment.

Le Zhiwen was famously not one for smiling, but she carried none of the usual airs of a star. Upon entering, she gave the other contestants in the room a polite bow, and when Manager Zhao handed her tea, she remembered to say softly, “Thank you.”

Her voice was remarkably clear — one could tell at once she took great care of it. She then took a sip of tea and closed her eyes, seemingly lost in thought, as if preparing her emotions for the coming competition.

Wen Tingli watched Le Zhiwen without blinking — this was her first time observing a film star up close, and it struck her deeply.

Fame? Attention? Whatever it was, some intangible force seemed to stir something restless deep within her — only a moment later did she realize it was her own ambition awakening.

So this was what it meant to have star quality. For the first time in her life, she felt a powerful longing to act in films.

Once Le Zhiwen was seated, the other young star, Xu Wei’an, still hadn’t arrived. As the competition time drew near, Manager Zhao grew increasingly anxious, pacing in circles — until finally, laughter and chatter sounded from outside, and a crowd swept in surrounding a young man.

This one had a handsome round face, his skin slightly tanned. His eyes darted once around toward Le Zhiwen the moment he entered, and he said irritably, “Didn’t I already say I don’t want to sit next to Le Zhiwen?”

Le Zhiwen paid him no mind at all. The theater staff had no choice but to move the chair prepared for Xu Wei’an to the other side. “Mr. Xu, please, over here.”

Only then did Xu Wei’an sprawl casually into the seat. “Sorry, kept you all waiting.”

With that, he pulled a small notebook from his pocket and studied it intently under the light.

Everyone present could tell the two were quietly competing with each other, and even the staff both inside and outside the room had their full attention fixed on Le Zhiwen and Xu Wei’an, leaving little regard for the other contestants throughout.

When the time came, Mr. Zhao gave his earnest instructions: “I believe everyone already understands the rules — each contestant will have a twenty-minute improvised performance, with topics drawn by lottery. The judges are already taking their seats, and the competition will begin shortly.”

He added, “Director Huang has invited reporters from every newspaper in the city to attend tonight — there will be over a thousand people in the audience. Tomorrow morning, every paper in Shanghai will be reporting on this event. All contestants, please give your very best performance.”

Zhao Qingluo was already dizzy with nerves, and Wen Tingli quietly gripped her hand tight, her own heart nearly leaping out of her throat.

But it wasn’t nervousness she felt — it was excitement. In her ears, it was as if war drums had begun to sound.

With a formidable rival ahead, she stood ready, poised to strike.