The host was still speaking. When Chi Yan’s name was finally announced, she stepped onto the stage.
The stage had already been set up by the staff, and she found her marked position and stood still.
As the music started, Chi Yan gracefully walked to the center of the stage, holding a small folding fan she had prepared in advance.
Her originally wavy hair had been styled into tight curls today, and her makeup carried a distinct flavor of the Republican era. From a distance, she truly looked like she had walked straight out of that time.
“Dear guests, please don’t make a fuss. Tonight, I’ll be performing a dance for you—how about it?”
The background music stopped abruptly and was replaced by pre-recorded crowd noise.
The dancer smiled and began her routine.
Her high-speed spins caused her curls to fly outwards. As she stopped, she snapped the fan in front of her face, covering most of it. Then, she suddenly bent backwards in a deep backbend, only to straighten up in just a few seconds, leading into a brilliant fan-flinging sequence…
Only two minutes had passed by the time she finished these movements.
Chi Yan’s dance video quickly went viral. As soon as she finished that segment, a viewer screen-recorded it and uploaded it to Weibo with the caption: This is a dance performed by a goddess!
But her performance wasn’t over yet.
After finishing the dance, the dancer closed her fan, smiling softly as she looked into empty space. After a pause, she placed her hand in the air and swayed away from the dance hall as gracefully as she had entered.
Once she disappeared, smoke rose from the stage.
When the smoke cleared, the dancer was now in a study.
She stood in front of a large bookcase, holding onto a padlock hanging from it.
She removed her earring and used its thin tip to pick the lock successfully. She rummaged through the bookcase for a while, but not finding what she wanted, she moved to the desk.
Just as she began searching there, a sound came from the door.
The audience thought she was about to be caught. But to their surprise, she climbed onto the top of the bookcase with her bare hands!
She lay on top of the bookcase, eyes fixed on the doorway.
After a while, the room returned to silence. The dancer cautiously climbed back down.
She edged along the wall, inch by inch, keeping an ear out for any noises near the door. After a careful search revealed nothing suspicious, she climbed out through the window and escaped.
In the second half of her performance, Chi Yan didn’t speak a single line. But through her superb acting, she fully immersed the audience in the scene.
Many viewers were holding their breath, afraid she’d be discovered. Thankfully, she jumped out the window in the end.
This was a change Chi Yan had made to the original ending. In the original script, the dancer was caught, imprisoned, and guarded.
While stories with regretful endings are often more memorable, Chi Yan wanted to leave the image of her leaping out the window imprinted in the audience’s minds.
She felt her attempt had been successful.
After her performance, the audience erupted into thunderous applause. Fireworks lit up the air, and someone shouted, “Jie-jie, you were amazing!”
Chi Yan bowed toward the audience, then exited the stage without lingering.
“Alright, after enjoying that amazing performance, we now move into the GG time. Coming up next is tonight’s final performance—let’s look forward to it!”
After stepping off the stage, Chi Yan didn’t return to her seat. She changed out of her costume and messaged her mom: Mom, I’m not coming back out. After it ends, you and Shen Chen can come backstage to find me. She copied the message to her conversation with Shen Chen, edited it slightly, and sent it to him as well.
Chi Yan didn’t watch Ye Jiawen’s performance either. After finishing hers, she felt completely drained—her mind was buzzing with excitement.
Maybe it was the thought that she could finally rest tomorrow, but a weight had lifted from her heart, and she felt much more relaxed.
She decided to head to the break room provided by the production team—only to bump into Yang Yueyi, Duan Jing, and Qi Kerong.
Chi Yan and the three others locked eyes in silence. She didn’t want to deal with them and turned to leave, but seeing their guarded expressions, she didn’t hesitate to walk right in.
She even picked a sofa close to them and curled up on it, giving off a strong let’s see who disgusts who first vibe.
With Chi Yan there, the other three exchanged awkward glances but said nothing.
Duan Jing was the first to break the silence. “Were there any mistakes in your performance?”
“You think I’m you?” Chi Yan shot back. “Turning a sword dance into soft ribbon twirls? You’ve got to be the first actress to do that.”
Duan Jing’s face flushed red with anger, and she couldn’t say a word for a long while.
Qi Kerong couldn’t stand it anymore and jumped in. “Why are you like this? Duan Jing just asked a question—why do you have to be so—”
“You need to understand something,” Chi Yan calmly interrupted. “She asked first. I simply answered truthfully. With my relationship with Yang Yueyi, did you really expect me to speak nicely to any of you?”
“Alright, enough talking,” Yang Yueyi asked her, “If I lose, can you give me a few extra days?”
Chi Yan answered seriously this time: “Sure, I can give you a one- or two-day extension. But if it’s still not settled after that, I’ll go straight to that guy and ask for it.”
“No! I’ll definitely pay.”
“Hope you keep your word.”
Chi Yan was bored, so she pulled out her phone and casually scrolled through Weibo, only to find she was trending again.
Although she had expected it, she still wasn’t quite used to it.
In her previous life, she had never experienced this kind of treatment.
Even when she landed a role, had her costume photos released, joined the crew, or wrapped up filming—none of it caused even the smallest ripple.
At first, her company would buy her trending spots, but seeing it didn’t help, they gave up.
Ironically, the only time she consistently trended back then was because of her “eternal failure to win Best Actress” reputation—those kinds of topics always sparked regret and discussion.
Now, it was truly different. Any time she appeared in a show, her name was guaranteed to be in the top five trending topics that same night.
Even on regular, competition-free days, she showed up at the bottom of the trending list every now and then.
In just these few days, her follower count had passed the five-million mark. Many netizens even admitted in the comments that they followed her just to stay in the trending circles—an amusing, baffling reason.
Time passed as she scrolled through her phone.
A program staff member informed them through their earpieces that Ye Jiawen’s performance had ended and it was time to go onstage for the results.
Chi Yan was the first to walk out the door—she had no intention of trailing behind that sluggish trio.
Since Ye Jiawen had been the final performer, he hadn’t left the stage and was quietly standing there waiting.
“How was it?” Chi Yan asked in a low voice.
“No major issues, but I feel like my performance was a bit stiff. Not sure how it’ll go.”
“Alright, contestants, no chatting. We’re moving on to the main event.”
Chi Yan got scolded by the host and faked a cough to cover her embarrassment.
“Before announcing the final result, we’ll reveal the mentor votes. Let’s invite the four mentors to cast theirs!”
Director Li Wei said, “Personally, I really appreciate Qi Kerong’s performance—she is my student after all. But as impressive as her performance was, it couldn’t compare to the shock Chi Yan gave me. My vote goes to Chi Yan.”
“Everyone showed real skill today,” Director Luo Fangyan said, “I won’t beat around the bush—my vote also goes to Chi Yan. Her action scenes were phenomenal!”
Director Wang Di gave a different answer: “I’m voting for Ye Jiawen. It’s good to take risks, and though there were a few minor issues, overall, it was solid.”
The camera zoomed in on Director Yu Jingming, who hesitated for a moment before saying, “Both Chi Yan and Jiawen did well. Since Chi Yan already received two votes, I’ll give mine to Jiawen.”
“Alright! Each mentor’s vote counts for ten, so that’s twenty votes each for Chi Yan and Ye Jiawen!” The host glanced at the cue cards and continued, “Next, let’s see the audience votes! Look at the big screen!”
The program used a sneaky animated chart to show the vote count. At first, the numbers were close, but gradually the gap widened.
Chi Yan’s name quickly surged to the lead, her vote count skyrocketing. Ye Jiawen and Duan Jing were neck and neck.
Surprisingly, in the final results, Duan Jing was overtaken by Qi Kerong.
That meant the final top five ranking was: Chi Yan, Ye Jiawen, Qi Kerong, Duan Jing, and Yang Yueyi.
“The final results are in! Congratulations to Contestant No. 66, Chi Yan, our champion! And to Contestant No. 28, Ye Jiawen, our runner-up…”
Chi Yan couldn’t hear the host’s words anymore. Even though she had expected to win, actually hearing “you are the champion” made her feel dizzy and light-headed.
It wasn’t until she received the champion trophy and the contract award plaque that she finally woke up from the dreamlike state.
“Our show has accompanied you for over two months. It’s been a little over a month since our livestream started on Xiyou platform. Now, everything comes to an end today. Thank you to the audience for your long-time support, to our contestants for their hard work, and to our mentors for their honest guidance. Time to say goodbye!”
As the host finished their closing speech, the show officially ended.
Chi Yan stumbled off the stage, tightly clutching her trophy, finally feeling at ease—it was real, not a dream.
Maybe it was a lingering trauma from never winning Best Actress in her past life, but for a moment she even doubted the reality of her victory. Thankfully, nothing had disappeared.
“Congrats! I knew if I lost, it would be to you.”
“Thanks,” Chi Yan said to Ye Jiawen, “Congrats to you too! We’re colleagues now, let’s take care of each other.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Chi Yan noticed the remaining three—Duan Jing and Yang Yueyi looked especially sour, while Qi Kerong looked a little pleased but tried to hide it because of her friends.
“Yang Yueyi, don’t forget our deal,” Chi Yan said with a smile. “I won today, I’m in a good mood, so I’ll give you one more day. Make sure to give me the one million in three days.”
“Got it!” Yang Yueyi stormed off bitterly.
Qi Kerong quickly followed, not forgetting to shoot Chi Yan a glare before leaving.
The show Actor’s Road ended, but the show itself—and the five contestants—quickly became hot topics online.
“I didn’t know silent performances could be this amazing. That dance was beautiful—too bad it was only a few minutes.”
“I loved the move where she climbed the bookshelf! So cool! And the window escape scene too—awesome!”
—These were praise for Chi Yan.
“OMG OMG I feel like a male lead from a Jinjiang novel came to life! It’s Ye Jiawen, no doubt!”
—This was praise for Ye Jiawen.
“Absolutely badass! I love it! My dream guy looks exactly like this!”
—This was praise for Qi Kerong.
“I just want to know—will Yang Yueyi actually pay up after losing?”
—This was from people following the bet between Chi Yan and Yang Yueyi.
The show’s chief director watched it all unfold and felt extremely satisfied. Actor’s Road was undoubtedly a successful program.
He could rest easy now.
“Hey, get the official account to post the final results.”
