Melon Eating Cannon Fodder, On Air!-Chapter 68 - Sixty-Eight: The Sword that Stayed

As An Ning began her audition for the Senior Sister’s role, genuine interest finally appeared on Wen Shaoheng’s face, replacing the detached calm he had worn until now.

Until this moment, he had watched with the polite attentiveness of a director going through procedure. Professional. Neutral. Unmoved.

Now, he leaned forward slightly.

This scene had been chosen deliberately.

Not because it was flashy, nor because it showcased combat or spectacle, but because it stripped everything down to the core. No grand visuals. No background music. No dramatic cues to hide behind.

Only emotion.

The Senior Sister stood at the mountain gate, blood staining the hem of her robes. Behind her, the sect was already collapsing. Smoke curled into the sky. The sound of chaos pressed closer with every passing breath.

And before her stood her juniors.

Not one. Not two.

Many.

Young disciples with trembling hands, torn sleeves, eyes red with fear and disbelief. Some still clutched broken swords. Others could barely stand.

An Ning did not rush the scene.

She stood still.

Her posture was straight, even as exhaustion weighed visibly on her shoulders. Her breathing was controlled, measured, as if she had already accepted what was coming next.

When she spoke, her voice was not loud. It did not need to be. "All of you go first."

The words fell clearly into the quiet audition room.

A pause.

One of the juniors shook his head, stepping forward. "Senior Sister, we cannot leave you."

Another followed, voice breaking. "If we run, what about you?"

An Ning’s gaze moved slowly across them.

Not sharp.

Not commanding.

But steady. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

For the first in the scene, something softened in her eyes.

"You guys are the future of the sect," she said. "You guys are going to be the pillars of the sect in the future."

Her voice wavered, just slightly, not from fear but from something deeper. Pride restrained by responsibility.

"Everyone has survived this far," she continued. "That alone means you guys are stronger than you think."

She took one step back, positioning herself fully between them and the incoming danger.

"I will stay."

A junior cried out, "Senior Sister, you cannot win!"

An Ning smiled.

It was not bright.

It was not tragic.

It was calm.

That was what made it devastating. "I know."

The admission was simple. Honest. Without bitterness.

"But only I can buy you time." Her gaze sharpened then, not in anger but in resolve."And time is enough."

She looked at them one last time, eyes lingering as if memorizing every face. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. "For the first time, I want to say this."

Her breath steadied. "I am proud of all of you."

Several of the juniors froze. She had never said it before.

The silence stretched.

"The sect will be in your hands," she said. "Protect it. Protect each other. Do not look back."

She raised her sword.

"Go."

The single word carried immense weight.

It was not a command meant to drive them away, nor a dismissal born of desperation. It was a promise, quiet and unshakable.

She would stay.

She would hold the line.

As long as she stood there, not one blade would reach their backs.

An Ning held her stance, unwavering, as the imagined juniors turned and fled. Her eyes followed them until the last shadow disappeared.

Only then did her shoulders relax.

Just a fraction.

Enough to show that she had been holding herself together for their sake.

As the scene ended, An Ning did not move immediately. She remained there, sword lowered, gaze fixed forward, as if already facing the enemy she knew she could not escape.

The room was silent.

No one spoke.

Wen Shaoheng did not blink.

*****

For the first time since the auditions began, Wen Shaoheng forgot to take notes.

He watched An Ning as though seeing her properly for the first time.

Not as a candidate.

Not as a name on a list.

But as an actor who understood restraint.

She had not cried.

She had not raised her voice.

She had not tried to force emotion out of the scene.

And yet, the weight lingered.

He had chosen this scene precisely because it exposed weaknesses. Many actors mistook intensity for volume. Others mistook tragedy for tears.

An Ning had done neither.

She understood something rare.

That responsibility was quiet.

That pride did not announce itself.

That sacrifice did not need an audience.

This was not a performance that demanded attention.

It earned it.

Wen Shaoheng finally glanced down at his script. The words on the page felt flatter now, less alive than what he had just witnessed.

Around him, the other evaluators exchanged looks.

One of them cleared their throat. "That was... steady."

Another nodded slowly. "She did not break character even at the end."

"She trusted the silence," someone murmured.

Wen Shaoheng leaned back in his chair. He had not expected this. He had expected competence. Perhaps even skill. Shen Entertainment did not send weak candidates.

But this was something else.

This was understanding.

He thought of Lu Jiaxin. Thought of how she carried emotion without excess. How she allowed scenes to breathe. And for the first time since casting began, Wen Shaoheng felt something shift.

Interest turned into consideration. Consideration into intent.

An Ning lowered her gaze respectfully, waiting. She did not search their faces for approval. She did not attempt to explain her choices.

She had already said everything through the scene.

Wen Shaoheng finally spoke. "Thank you."

Two simple words.

But the tone was different now.

An Ning bowed lightly and stepped back.

As she left the audition space, Wen Shaoheng’s eyes followed her for a brief moment longer than necessary.

The Senior Sister role had always been important. Now, he could clearly envision her. Not as a supporting figure but as the spine of the story.

And somewhere, deep within his professional instinct, a quiet certainty settled.

This role would not be remembered because of spectacle.

It would be remembered because of her.