Pim is pacing the narrow hallway like a woman who has accepted her fate with vigorous zeal and decided to make it everyone else's problem. She's still on the phone with Jingwei.
"… but in my defense, the chemistry is completely undeniable, and Wei-Wei is currently standing in there with Prinya Jaturapattarapong, the Prinya Jaturapattarapong, and they just ran a scene that made the entire room go quiet – yes, quiet, Jingwei, even the director forgot how to speak for three full seconds--"
If you are wondering where I am during all of this, I am currently standing three feet away, arms crossed so tightly my fingers are going numb, and staring very intently at a random spot on the wall with a tiny scuff mark vaguely shaped like a sad cloud. I am pretending, with every single cell in my body, that I cannot hear a single word she is saying. Nope, not hearing a single word.
And cue internal monologue activated at maximum volume.
I am not here. Nope, this is not happening, definitely not happening. I am a very normal (invisible) person who came to watch his cousin work. I am also not the reason my cousin is currently explaining my great luck/catastrophe – depending on how you look at it – to my older brother in real time. I did not accidentally audition for a role in some hot new series opposite Prinya Jaturapattarapong – AKA the hottest man to ever live – while wearing a pink kitten-pun shirt. None of this is real. Wei-Wei is a very calm dumpling. (Very) Calm. Dumpling. Yes, just focus on the scuff mark, Wei-Wei. Be completely calm. Mmmm, now I'm hungry.
Prinya is still inside the audition room with the director, but every so often, he glances toward the open doorway. I catch one of his glances – quiet, dark eyes and that same interested look from earlier – and my gaze snaps back to the sad cloud on the wall so fast I almost give myself whiplash.
It feels like my face is on fire. I am not blushing. I refuse to be blushing. Be a calm dumpling, Wei-Wei.
Pim keeps going, completely undeterred. "--Oh, he's wearing a pink kitten shirt, which honestly only made the whole thing worse because it's unfairly adorable, and no, I'm not exaggerating, Jingwei, I know you're doing that silent judging thing right now, but I stand by every clause--"
I close my eyes for half a second.
I am dying.
And the worst part? Somewhere deep down, a tiny, traitorous voice is already whispering that maybe this isn't the worst thing that could have happened today. Like, what is up with that?
I tell that voice to shut up. Obviously, it doesn't listen.
****
Pim finally bursts through the door, phone still in her hand.
She hangs up with a dramatic flourish (she does everything dramatically) and spins toward the director, already smiling like she's won an argument no one else knew was happening.
The director doesn't waste time. "Pimchanok, let's talk about your cousin. We want him to play Tawan. The chemistry between him and Prinya is unbelievable."
Pimchanok beams and jumps straight into negotiations.
"Perfect. Then let's make this easy for him. He gets full control over his painting schedule – no filming on days he needs to be at his studio. He gets a private dressing room with good natural light for sketching in between takes. And he only works four days a week maximum, so he can still focus on his studies."
The casting producer laughs, clearly charmed. While the assistant next to her is nodding along like a little puppet. Even the director looks amused, like she's enjoying this. What on earth is happening?
I stand a few feet away, arms crossed, trying to become invisible. FYI, I am failing spectacularly. My face feels warm, and my kitten shirt suddenly feels very loud in this professional room.
P'Prinya, on the other hand, looks completely calm as he's leaning against the back wall. His arms are loosely folded as he just quietly takes it all in. But every so often, his eyes drift toward me.
The director suddenly turns to him. "Prinya, are you comfortable with this pairing?"
P'Prinya gives one small, calm nod.
"Yes."
That single word lands in my stomach like a stone. I quickly look down at the floor, pretending that the tiles are the most interesting thing I've ever seen.
The team jumps back in, discussing schedules and availability. Someone mentions screen tests while the next person brings up contracts. And Pim is totally in her element, still cheerfully fighting for me.
"And he gets final approval on any wardrobe that might interfere with his image, no heavy makeup--"
I finally find my voice, quiet and careful. "I'm… not an actor."
Pim waves a hand like I just said something adorable. "Details!"
"I have no training."
"Even better! Fresh energy!"
"I came to Bangkok to study art."
"And you will! With a proper schedule and good light and everything you need between takes." She turns back to the director, still grinning. "See? He's already thinking like a professional."
The room laughs again. It seems they love her unique brand of chaos, and apparently, they also love the idea of me.
I stand there, heart beating too loud, slowly realizing that this is becoming real, whether I like it or not.
P'Prinya is still watching me.
But I pretend like I am not looking at him. (I totally am.)
****
Pim grabs my wrist and pulls me into a small side room like we're criminals escaping a crime scene.
The door clicks shut. She turns to face me, eyes sparkling with pure chaotic energy.
"Okay, Wei-Wei. Private talk time."
I cross my arms, trying to look firm. "Pim, I am not an actor."
She waves that away like it's smoke. "First of all, the chemistry is undeniable. That's reason one."
"I have zero training."
"Secondly, you don't need training when you already have that face," she gestures at my face like that explains it (it doesn't). "People are going to fall in love with you the second you open your mouth. Training would just get in the way."
I stare at her (Intimidating and serious. I don't think she's getting the message). "I came to Bangkok to paint, not to be on television."
"You can still paint between scenes. That's the third problem solved." She starts pacing, hands flying. "Don't worry. We'll block your schedule around your art classes. You'll also have a private dressing room with natural light. I already told them. You will have time to sketch and to work on your pieces. You shouldn't think of doing this instead of art; you should think of this as an extension of your studies. And it comes with extra funding, snacks, and eye candy."
I open my mouth to argue, but she steamrolls right over me.
"And finally," she says, pointing at me dramatically, "Jingwei is going to kill me anyway, so we might as well make it worth it."
I can't help it. A laugh escapes before I can stop it. "That is not a reason."
"It's an excellent reason!" She throws her hands up, spinning in a little circle. "Think about it. You get to try something new, and you get paid. And before you say, you don't need the money, think about the experience. You get to work with Prinya, who, by the way, looked at you like you hung the moon. And you still get to paint. Where's the downside?"
I rub my temples. "I don't even know how to stand in front of a camera properly. I'll look like a confused dumpling."
Pim stops pacing and grabs both my shoulders, grinning so wide it's contagious. "You will look like an adorable dumpling. People love confused dumplings. Especially when the dumpling has your eyes and your voice and that soft little smile you do when you're nervous."
I groan. "Pim…"
"Listen to me." She squeezes my shoulders. "This is not me forcing you. This is me saying: you walked into the wrong room and something magical happened. Don't throw the magic away just because it's scary. You can still be the quiet artist while also stepping out of your comfort zone. Isn't that what you came here for?"
I stare at her. She's breathing hard, but her eyes are bright and completely sincere.
I try one last protest, weaker this time. "I came here to heal quietly."
"Xiao Wei, healing doesn't always have to be quiet and lonely," she says softly.
"You're impossible."
"I know." She says. "But I'm right."
We stand there for a moment. I can feel my resistance cracking. Little pieces are falling away under the weight of her affection and sheer stubborn joy.
She tilts her head, watching me. "So… are you at least going to think about it?"
I sigh, long and dramatic (Yes, I can be dramatic too). "I'll think about it."
"That's all I need. Because once you think about it, you're going to say yes."
I shake my head, but I'm smiling despite myself.
"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"
"Nope, you won't," she beams. "I already listed four excellent reasons why you won't. I can add more if you want. Reason five: you get to stare at Prinya legally for months—"
"Pim!"
"Fine, fine." She laughs and pulls me into a quick, tight hug. "Just promise me you'll really think about it. Not the pretend kind where you're just going to reject it because you're scared. I mean the real kind of thinking where you seriously consider it."
I hug her back, resting my chin on her shoulder for a second.
"I'll think about it," I whisper. "Really."
She pulls away, still holding my arms. "Good. Because this could be good for you, Wei-Wei."
I don't reply, but I don't say no either.
I think I already know my answer.