Chapter 292: Vote Results
Translator: Min_Lee  Editor: Tennesh
The veteran artists sitting in the second row were also deep in discussion. Their focus was, as usual, on technique.
âI watched some footage of General Fang Zhao. This leader has unique speech patterns. Others might miss them, but we can spot them right away.â
When most folks spoke, they put an emphasis on certain wordsâsometimes just one, sometimes several. They also paused to highlight certain points. Fang Zhao didnât speak extensively in the footage of the conference attended by many leaders, but he had his own style of speech, which included emphases and pauses. The veteran artists considered this Fang Zhaoâs signature style.
The first six candidates had tried to imitate that style in their performances. They had clearly studied the archive footage carefully, but they werenât quite there. They couldnât replicate Fang Zhaoâs speech pattern completely. Their deliveries were close approximations at best.
The veteran artists were impressed with the young actorsâ professionalism and attention to detail. âThey actually all did very well. Itâs a tough call.â
âIf theyâd had more time, they would have done an even better job. They would have resembled Fang Zhao even more.â
âThey donât have to be exact duplicates. Art is an embellishment of reality to begin with.â
âOK, itâs time for number 7. I gotta take a close look at this guy.â
Roman sat in a corner, trying to gauge the audienceâs reactions.
A still photo of candidate number 7 appeared on the screen, followed shortly by footage of his audition.
It was the same scene that the previous six had acted out, the same lines.
A gray-haired old man sitting on the edge of the first row of the area assigned to the Committee of 100 didnât seem to be paying attentionâhis posture was relaxed, his eyelids droopingâbut the moment candidate number 7 opened his mouth, the gray-haired old manâs eyelids fluttered and he bolted upright. He gradually opened his eyes and glared at the screen.
As a veteran artist who had won countless awards, including the most prestigious honor in performing arts, the Galaxy World Medal, this old man was eminently qualified to sit in the first row.
True professionals paid attention to minutiae that the actors were prone to miss. They zoomed in on these finer points and isolated them for scrutiny and evaluation. This old man was no different. The moment he heard number 7âs voice, he knew this one was different from the previous six candidates.
There were many professionals in the audience, so the old man wasnât the only one to catch on.
True, it was the same lines and the same scenes. There were only so many ways you could break the lines up and vary the rhythm. Candidate number 7 didnât handle his pauses, emphases, and long vowels any differently. The amazing thing was that they detected a form of musicality in his lines.
It was a completely unintentional yet mostly natural rhythm.
The casual rhythm was seamlessly incorporated into the character.
This was what distinguished him from the previous six candidates.
Even the nonprofessionals in the audience couldnât help but be captivated by every word in the delivery even though they couldnât explain the attraction.
The members of the audience secretly grumbled. Yet another strong candidate!
The most frustrating thing was that they had no clue who number 7 was.
He seemed familiar, but they couldnât identify him, which bugged the hell out of many viewers.
They looked at their colleagues probingly. Any luck?
All they got in response was confused headshakes.
âIâm absolutely positive Iâve never seen one of his movies before,â an instructor from the Huangzhou Academy of Art said.
Every performer had his or her quirks, regardless of the roleâsomething in their acting, their delivery, or other features that were easy to overlook. These made up their signature. But the veteran artists in the audience searched their memories in vain for an actor that matched the characteristics of candidate number 7.
âWhere did Roman find this guy?â
Folks who were close to Roman went through a mental checklist of the worldâs top actors. No matches.
Other industry heavyweights in the audience looked equally confused. Clearly, none of them had recognized number 7 either.
âThatâs impossible. He seems so familiar. Itâs gotta be someone we know.â
But after a mental review of all the TV series and movies they had seen, they still had no matches.
Just the delivery of candidate number 7 distinguished him from the previous six candidates, which prompted many in the audience to direct their attention to the screen for a careful look.
Generally speaking, number 7 did indeed resemble the Fang Zhao as scripted in âFounding Era.â He wasnât an exact replica of old photos of the real Fang Zhao, but at first glance, there was a striking resemblance.
âConsidering this level of skill, has a retired colleague of ours decided to join the fun?â someone speculated.
If it were indeed a retired veteran artist, he would certainly be competent enough acting-wise, but could his body endure the rigors of the shoot? Could he cope with the fast pace of the shoot? Could he keep up? Was Roman willing to take the risk?
Someone caught a glimpse of Roman, who was standing in the corner, pursing his lips. The observerâs heart went âthud.â
Something was definitely problematic with number 7.
The observer knew Roman well from working with Roman for many years. He knew instantly from Romanâs smile that there was more than met the eye.
How dare he play games with such an important project like âFounding Era?â
Letâs see how he cleans up his mess.
The audition video kept playing on the screen.
Just like the six performers before him, number 7 stood up at the end of his extended monologue. He was oozing the ambition and the ruthlessness of a climber who had toiled for decades during the Period of Destruction.
Yet number 7âs aura wasnât as in-your-face as the previous candidatesâ. He even looked calm. He spoke quickly, but it was the determination and killer instinct in his delivery that shook the audience much more strongly than all the previous candidates.
It was a very special feeling.
The military officials sitting in the third row felt it all the more acutely. It was just a video, but the seemingly innocuous face on the screen, the seemingly peaceful eyes projected the utmost fear. They felt their muscles tense despite being hardened by countless missions.
They took a deep breath and only exhaled slowly after a few seconds.
âSuch a strong killer vibe!â
The comment intrigued one of the veteran artists sitting in the first two rows.Killer vibe? So thatâs a killer vibe?
He hadnât felt the vibe as acutely. He wasnât from a military background, after all, but he had felt a sudden chill. It was a bizarre feeling and had prompted him to avert his gaze.
âI bet all the stripes on my shoulder that this guy definitely has blood on his hands!â the military official said.
âNot necessarily. He might be a graduate of the military arts academy. Word has it theyâve been training their people quite rigorously, possibly to the level of candidate number 7. The academy is run military style, after all, unlike other arts academies.â
âHow rigorous is their training, to have produced someone like this?â
âHey, Old Tan, arenât you in charge of the arts academy? Is it someone from your school? What a good job youâve done of keeping him under wraps.â
Professor Tan wore a blank expression on his face. âHuh? Who are you talking about? I donât know this guy.â
âHahaha, donât deny it. I know you donât like openly lobbying for votes. We cast our votes independently. Thereâs no lobbying involved at all, haha. This actor really did a good job.â
Professor Tan started panicking. âI really donât know number 7! I did indeed recommend people for the role of Fang Zhao, but they were all rejected by Roman. He said they werenât artsy enough. What business does a Founding Era leader have being artsy?â
The mere mention of the matter made Prof. Tan furious.
Thirty percent artsy and 70 percent killerâRomanâs stringent requirements were maddening.
Now came the action scene. Number 7 moved deftly, quickly, and powerfully. His punches were very forceful and realistic. There was no fakery involved.
âWho is this? Whoâs number 7?â an old man in uniform couldnât help blurting out.
A member of the audience who didnât know the entertainment industry well asked a friend who was more familiar with the community, âHey, Charlie, who was that?â
âDonât you know all the actors well? Someone in charge of censorship like yourself should know the actors well. How come you canât recognize him?â
âItâs probably the makeup.â
His friend was incredulous. âReally?â
Makeup didnât turn the actor into a replica of General Fang Zhao. You could still more or less tell who the actor was. It wasnât that the makeup artists were incompetent. In this particular project, the actors werenât allowed to resemble the real Fang Zhao exactly.
Even if their natural features were similar, the makeup artist was supposed to make clear the distinction between the actor and the real-life Fang Zhao. This was a stipulation from the descendants of the Founding Era heroes. People were self-contradictoryâthey wanted convincing imitations but not exact replicas.
Many folks thought number 7 looked familiar. Given his talent level and the fact that he had been given a slot, there was no doubt about number 7âs ability. Bowing to conventional thinking, many folks thought the actor had to be a senior figure in the industry.
That led many to guess that this was a veteran artist.
One scene might not prove anything, but three strong performances in a rowâŚ
The Committee of 100 was dumbfounded. They didnât know what to say. Clearly, number 7 was a great fit, but they couldnât figure out who he was.
A fleeting thought flashed through someoneâs head, but it was quickly dismissed as ridiculous. The person kept on brainstorming about number 7âs identity.
Number 7 caused quite the commotion, because no one knew who he was. But to avoid getting hung up on the issue, the audition videos for number 8 and number 9 were played immediately.
After the audition videos of all nine candidates were played, Roman got on stage again. He wore a knowing but also slightly stiff smile.
âThese are the nine candidates. Voting will begin now. You have 10 minutes. Please get ready.â
The chatter began again. Among the Committee of 100, some started lobbying, others started group discussions and fell into deep thought.
Roman tried hard to control his nerves. âThe vote results will now be announced. This vote will determine who will be cast as Fang Zhao. Please direct your attention to the screen.â
A table tallying the votes that each of the nine candidates had gotten, in descending order, appeared on-screen.
The winner had beaten the runner-up by six votes.
The total number of votes for number 7, the only candidate who had received more than 20 votes, wasnât that sizable, but it made for a commanding lead. It was an impressive feat, securing more than 20 votes amid such intense competition.
The audience had mixed feelings as they examined the results. Some went pale, others fell silent, and some went redâthough it was unclear whether it was due to anger or excitement. Some faces looked ghastly, oozing disappointment. There were also some who showed no emotion. Who knows if they were actually calm or faking it.
As Roman studied the results on the screen, he could feel his heart skip a beat and the temperature of his blood rise. He could no longer suppress the pursing of his lips. What he would give to burst out in laughter. But he had to maintain his composure as director of the film and host of the meeting.
Roman struggled to contain his emotions. âPlease double-check your votes.â
It was standard procedure for members of the Committee of 100 to verify that they hadnât cast the wrong vote.
After the voters checked their votes, the computer system verified the results.
Roman smiled knowingly again. He could no longer hold back his amusement. âIn that case, candidate number 7 will be cast as Fang Zhao.â
Roman gestured, and the in-character photos of the nine candidates appeared on screen in three rows. However, the photos immediately flipped, revealing the mugshots of each actor and their personal information.
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Apart from number 7, the youngest candidate was number 8, who was 59. The oldest was 81, which was considered middle age in the New Era.
His youthful face stood out among the middle-aged men.
Number 7âs portrait showed him in uniform. It seemed like a military ID photo. Next to it was his personal information: Fang Zhao, Yanzhou native, 25.
The audience went dead silent.