After calming their excited nerves, the voice actors settled down.

Honestly? No one had faith in this “Congee Tree Man.”

Even if you were the author—deeply connected to the character, voice naturally pleasant—you still couldn’t pose as a pro in voice acting.

One word, and the illusion would shatter.

But Luo Xiaolu carried quiet confidence.

The “Bel Canto Skill Card” did more than beautify her voice; its true power lay in mimicking others’ vocal tones.

Like the “Writer Skill Card,” any voice she’d ever heard could be vividly replayed in her mind.

Because the card was still beginner-level, perfect imitation wasn’t possible. Yet by blending others’ vocal strengths with her own foundation, she forged a uniquely captivating style.

That final letter-reading scene from *Your Lie in April* was etched into Luo Xiaolu’s DNA—unforgettable.

Now, she would recreate Risa Taneda’s flawless portrayal of Kaori.

“To: Mr. Kosei Arima.”

The moment Luo Xiaolu spoke, everyone froze.

Seconds ago, she’d been smiling and greeting the room. Headphones on—*snap*—she slipped seamlessly into character. Gone was the ethereal “fairy” tone; now, a genuine teenage girl’s voice rang clear.

Everyone present was either a voice actor or a pro—sound engineers, the sound director.

In that single line, nearly all reached the same conclusion:

This was no amateur’s shift.

“It feels weird writing you a letter when we were just together…”

“You’re terrible. A good-for-nothing, blockhead, airhead. I first saw you at five, during a piano recital at my lesson studio. A clumsy kid plopped onto the bench, making the crowd chuckle. But the moment he played that first note on a piano bigger than himself… he became my idol…”

“Jumping off the courage-testing bridge into the river was freezing—but thrilling, right? That full moon outside the music room looked like a steamed bun. Racing the train, feeling we could win. Singing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle’ under the stars… Fun, wasn’t it? Something must hide in the school at night. Snowflakes scattering like cherry blossoms… Strange for a performer to cherish things beyond the stage…”

Luo Xiaolu’s expression shifted with her voice—bright joy one moment, quiet sorrow the next.

Silence draped the studio and hall. Only her voice flowed from the speakers. Everyone listened, breath held.

This wasn’t an audition. It was an auditory feast.

Immersed, most having loved *Your Lie in April* and the girl they called Lavender, they felt it for the first time:

Lavender was *alive*.

That radiant, ever-optimistic girl stood vividly before them.

Only now did they grasp it—

This letter was her final love letter to Kosei.

No… something was off!

Sound director Chen Chuan jolted—he’d been utterly captivated.

No chance to call “cut.” Flawless.

“How strange… the moments I cherish are these tiny things.”

“Do you think… have I settled in someone’s heart?”

“Have I settled in *yours*?”

“Even for a fleeting second… will you remember me?”

“I won’t let you erase me.”

“…Kosei Arima.”

“I love you!”

“I love you!!”

“I LOVE YOU!!!”

With Luo Xiaolu’s three cries, the hall erupted. They’d forgotten this was an audition.

The dread of February 18th—the final volume’s release—surged back.

Kaori’s confession, which had haunted lonely nights, now felt heartbreakingly close.

“It’s hitting me! It’s hitting me!”

These voice actors were barely adults. How could they withstand this emotional wave? Eyes welled; hands hastily wiped tears.

*Just voice acting. It’s fine.*

They whispered reassurance to themselves.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t finish the canelé you gave me,” Luo Xiaolu murmured gently.

“No… please no!” the girls thought desperately.

“I’m sorry for always hitting you.”

“Stop it!!”

“I’m sorry for acting like a spoiled brat.”

“Help!!!”

“For everything… I’m sorry. Thank you.”

She smiled softly and set down the script.

Their last emotional wall crumbled. Tears spilled freely.

“My poor Lavender!!”

“Waaah, this story’s so cruel!”

“Sister Congee Tree, give Kaori back!!”

“Why’d you voice her *so* perfectly?! Give me back my tears…”

Sobs filled the hall and studio. No one would’ve guessed this was an audition.

Chen Chuan stood dumbfounded, shouting uselessly into the chaos.

Even his assistant and the sound engineer wiped tears fiercely.

One performance… causing *this*?

This was exactly what Luo Xiaolu meant: weaving deep empathy through a light, cheerful tone.

Her skill rivaled top-tier voice actors.

Had she been one before? Never heard of her!

Chen Chuan’s mind screamed: *You can voice like this and waited till now?! Playing the underdog at auditions?!*

As a veteran sound director, he admitted it—flawless control, overflowing emotion, utterly natural delivery. Among all he knew, one of the most captivating. Zero novice traces.

But…

*Everyone* sobbing? Seriously?!

Then he recalled her earlier question:

“Have you read the original novel?”

Of course they had.

A devil. Absolutely a devil.

Chen Chuan’s scalp prickled. Cold sweat drenched his back.

It felt just like…

…a cult.