“An audition? You??”

Chen Chuan froze. The sound engineer froze too.

Lvye, however, lit up with genuine excitement—clearly used to this by now.

Zhou Shuren always pulled off something unexpected. If she ever acted *normal*, she wouldn’t be Zhou Shuren!

But voice acting this time?

Today, Lvye was here representing the copyright side, accompanying Luo Xiaolu. With zero input on dubbing matters, she’d simply been spectating the drama… until it suddenly got *this* interesting.

“Yes. Let me try,” Luo Xiaolu said.

Luo Xiaolu always carried herself with quiet grace—never flustered, never sharp. Even during the earlier debate, she’d kept a gentle smile.

The last voice actress Chen Chuan had tentatively approved was nearly the final candidate standing. Most had already been cut, now slumped in the recording booth across the hall, faces etched with worry.

Everyone craved the role of the beloved heroine Xunyicao. Yet after three grueling hours… not one selection.

Relief warred with resentment in many girls’ hearts. *I practiced endlessly. I gave my best. Why wasn’t it enough?*

The girl just on stage was Huacai. After finally earning Chen Chuan’s nod, Zhou Shuren had swooped in: *“Your emotion’s off.”*

Huacai’s pride was emotional precision—and now *that* was questioned?

She was seconds from snapping.

*You’re just a novelist! Why critique pros? If standards are so high… why not dub it yourself?*

Right then, Luo Xiaolu’s words drifted through the wall.

“Try?”

The girls exchanged baffled glances. *Did we just hear that?*

Was Teacher Zhou Shuren… personally dubbing her own heroine Xunyicao?!

No way!!

Inside the booth, Chen Chuan shot to his feet.

“Teacher Zhou Shuren—you’re joking, right?”

“No.”

“If you dislike the candidate, we’ll replace her. No need for this,” Chen Chuan pleaded, voice tight.

An original author dubbing live? This would blow up online!

A veteran author? Maybe impressive.

But a sixteen-year-old girl—fresh from her coming-of-age ceremony?!

If this embarrassed her… his career as sound director was over.

*Why didn’t I stop her?! Why let her do this in front of everyone?!*

*My job’s gone!!*

*Please, spare me…*

“No. I *will* try,” Luo Xiaolu said, smiling softly.

“N-no… impossible!”

“You look down on me?”

“I don’t!”

“You *do*,” she chirped sweetly. “I’ll call your director later.”

Ahhhhhh!!!

Why was this demon so lethal?!

Childish words—from *her* mouth—hit like ice daggers.

This “princess” cradled by two giants… if she actually called? He was finished.

*She’s no lucky newbie. She’s the hidden antagonist in a family drama—script in hand, pulling every string.*

*She’s still mad about earlier… right?!*

Yet Chen Chuan saw only an angelic smile. No trace of malice.

Then Luo Xiaolu’s tone sharpened.

“Xunyicao is my favorite character. Your company’s audition method doesn’t justify lowering standards. Unsuitable is unsuitable.”

Calm words. Hidden steel.

Highlighting “your company’s method” subtly exposed NB Studio’s cost-cutting—skipping top-tier seiyuu for open auditions. A shady move now laid bare, leaving NB Studio cornered.

*You didn’t mean that… right?!*

Chen Chuan’s blood ran cold. If this was *intentional*… how terrifying was this girl?! A wolf in sheep’s clothing at sixteen?!

In the booth, the voice actresses fell silent.

They’d pictured Zhou Shuren: the flawless literary idol, a perfectionist who held herself to the same standard—hence nitpicking Huacai’s take.

But now…

*Just a naive kid?*

*A novelist with zero training, criticizing us… then jumping in herself?*

*Here to stir trouble?!*

*So much for “perfect literary goddess.”*

*Just an immature brat.*

Chen Chuan and the engineer shared the thought: fame aside, she was still a child—curious, impulsive, unskilled.

But they couldn’t say it.

She was the original author. The “princess” two giants guarded fiercely. Countless studios still dreamed of recruiting her as their next coveted star.

Fine. Let her play.

Honestly? Even with zero skill, Zhou Shuren’s voice was universally praised online—ethereally captivating. A pleasant break.

*Just call security after. Ban all recordings. Lock this down.*

*If her image cracks… the fallout’s catastrophic.*

A strange thrill flickered in Chen Chuan.

*You want to show off?*

*Then step right up. Make your mistake. Learn: without skill, don’t lecture professionals.*

Luo Xiaolu glided into the recording studio.

Each step light, graceful—echoing her walk at the signing ceremony. *The moment we fell for Zhou Shuren.*

Every voice actress stared, breathless.

Through glass, they’d longed to touch.

Now she passed before them—and a quiet aura whispered: *Admire from afar. Do not approach.*

Luo Xiaolu settled the headphones over her ears.

“Beautiful Voice Skill Card”—activated.