The director, with trembling hands, pulled out a cigarette box from his pocket. He lifted his gaze to the screenwriter and mumbled, "Can I smoke?"
He thought there would be the usual refusal.
But this time, the screenwriter nodded: "You can."
The director lit a cigarette while the screenwriter walked out.
The director: "..."
The director smoked alone, pondering over many things.
Was he venting his anger?
Actually, it's undeniable that there was a bit of that.
After finishing a cigarette, he played the recording of today's audition.
He started watching from the performance of the first child, going through them one by one, slowly watching.
Then came Little Taotie's performance.
That gaze, so fierce.
Setting aside all prejudices, if she weren't Little Taotie, if she were just a child coming for an audition, the director emptied his mind and asked himself honestly, would he clap and cheer?
He definitely would.
He couldn't help but stand up and applaud.
