“Teacher Zhou Shuren, what are you laughing at?” Liu Yu asked, surprised as she glanced at Luo Xiaolu.

After all, though Luo Xiaolu usually wore a gentle smile, she’d never actually laughed out loud like this before.

“Nothing.”

Luo Xiaolu hastily brushed it off. She’d just been warned by the system for it.

Why hadn’t the script felt this funny when *she* read it? But the moment Yulu delivered those lines, Luo Xiaolu nearly lost it.

As a fellow creator, she instantly pinpointed the flaw—though chuckling at another’s work felt disrespectful.

Alice’s character had serious issues!

She’d just killed her own father, then launched into a tearful monologue about childhood grievances—skipping the Pope’s monstrous crimes entirely—only to end with, “Just take me away, Yu Chuan Ang.”

Was *that* what a righteous, self-sacrificing soul would do?

Either Kao Mianjin’s writing missed the mark, or Alice blurted the wrong words in the heat of the moment.

Pitiable as she was, burning her own household register while spouting *that*? Pure hypocrisy. Pure calculation.

It felt less like justice, more like a last-ditch move: killing a doomed Pope herself to prove loyalty to the heroes.

No wonder netizens roasted her!

A once-cool holy maiden, reduced to a weeping white lotus.

Like ordering a “pure schoolgirl” experience—cherishing her shy resistance, that innocent struggle that thrills you—

only for her to reappear post-scene in a seductive red dress, clinging to your neck with a husky “Again?”

So jarring it makes your knees go weak!

Serves the backlash right.

So… what *was* Teacher Kao Mianjin’s true vision for Alice?

On stage, Teacher Yulu’s voice cracked with sobs, then surged into a raw, trembling roar—as if unleashing years of buried rage in one breath.

She held the entire room captive. Every heartbeat rose and fell with her voice. Pure magic.

“No wonder she’s Teacher Yulu!”

“Absolutely legendary!!”

“That voice—I’m obsessed!”

“Poor Alice…”

Could Alice *really* be this calculating white lotus? Killing her father just to survive the regime’s fall, secure a spot with the heroes, and vent old wounds?

Luo Xiaolu watched Yulu, thoughtful.

Amid roaring applause, Yulu stepped out of the booth.

No denying it: breathtaking. Veteran voice actress Yulu commanded presence—on mic and off—pulling everyone deep into the story without effort.

She offered a polished smile, nodding to the crew. Her agent handed her water; sweat traced her temples like a boxer after a hard-won match.

Truly formidable.

Even maxing out her Beginner Beautiful Voice skill card, Luo Xiaolu knew she couldn’t outshine Yulu head-on.

After all, this was a legend active long before Luo Xiaolu was born.

To win? She’d need a different weapon: raw emotional resonance.

As the crowd rose applauding Yulu’s finish,

Luo Xiaolu noticed Teacher Kao Mianjin smiling—but his brows soon furrowed slightly.

Like something vital was missing.

*That* was her answer. Her conviction solidified.

She’d perform Alice her way.

Yulu sat beside her, hand resting lightly on Luo Xiaolu’s shoulder.

Zap! Luo Xiaolu nearly jolted out of her seat.

Why so casually touching *me*?!

Outside home, she’d always been “untainted by the mire, unadorned by clear ripples”—a figure of serene purity.

No one dared approach. Timid admirers only watched from afar.

Was this an older woman’s boldness? Bolder indeed.

And if you *must* touch… pick a better spot!

“Stay calm later. Breathe. Lines are few—settle your emotion first. Mind your expressions too. This is an audition; hook the directors’ hearts…” Yulu murmured, perfume drifting close.

Luo Xiaolu: “????”

Wait…

Are you my mom? What *is* this nonsense?

Yulu’s face held earnestness—and a teasing glint. For the first time, Luo Xiaolu faced an inscrutable older woman.

She offered a tight smile. “Thank you,” and walked toward the booth.

Staff already knew about today’s mix-up from Ellie.

That this rookie insisted on auditioning *after* the team considered replacing Yulu?

Some admired her grit. Others dismissed it as childish stubbornness.

Few believed in her. Honestly, she wasn’t ready to challenge Yulu.

Inside the booth, Luo Xiaolu faced a mic nearly her face-size, adjusted her headphones.

“I… I never want to be my father’s tool again.”

!!!

Silence shattered.

*What?!*

This line—meant to be a fiery cry post-patricide—came out soft, low, trembling with quiet sorrow.

The contrast to Yulu’s performance jolted the room.

Kao Mianjin’s brows snapped tight. He sat up, listening intently.

“Since I was very, very small… I never had even a sliver of freedom. Couldn’t chase butterflies. Couldn’t peek at fish in the banyan pond. Couldn’t stroll on sunny days… Because I am the Holy Maiden. The Holy Maiden must never suffer the slightest harm…”

Her voice stayed hushed, laced with gentle melancholy.

Then—

“But… *Father*!!!”

Her tone shattered into a raw, trembling cry—so sudden, so visceral, the audience nearly jumped out of their skin.