High-Altitude Worker, Unfortunately a Cannon Fodder Female Supporting Role - Chapter 1

Splash!

A glass of ice-cold water was thrown in Zhao Ke’s face, the bone-chilling shock jolting her awake.

The pungent smell of disinfectant flooded her nostrils as she blinked her bleary eyes, focusing on the figure before her.

A man in a sharp suit sat behind a red desk, his meticulously slicked-back hair reflecting the harsh glare of the overhead fluorescent lights. He sat with his arms crossed, the bulging muscles of his arms straining the fabric of his suit into a slight wrinkle.

His contemptuous, scrutinizing gaze made Zhao Ke involuntarily furrow her brow.

Who is this guy? And where the hell am I?

She glanced down at herself. Her faded blue-and-white striped hospital gown was soaked with water, and a prominent IV needle was taped to the back of her left hand.

What’s going on? Am I dying?

Her bewildered expression seemed to amuse the man. He spoke with an odd, slurred accent, as if his tongue couldn’t quite form the words properly.

“Zhao Ke, after all the times you’ve harmed Qiao Shuxue, have you finally learned your lesson?”

Huh?

Why was he mixing English into his speech? Zhao Ke was completely confused.

Wait… did he just say Qiao Shuxue? Isn’t that the name from that fake heiress entertainment novel I just finished reading?

Zhao Ke suddenly understood.

According to the laws of transmigration, Zhao Ke in this novel was… the cannon fodder sidekick of the Fake Heiress.

Well, fine.

At least she’d transmigrated. Living a little longer couldn’t hurt.

Zhao Ke looked up at the man before her. If she wasn’t mistaken, this greasy, suit-clad man who spoke broken Chinese mixed with English was none other than Gu Jason, the Male Lead and boyfriend of Qiao Shuxue, the True Heiress.

A second-generation rich kid who’d grown up abroad, Gu Jason had returned to China with the decadent, money-soaked aura of old Wall Street wealth.

“Your last chance. Sign this document, or not?”

Gu Jason pushed the document across the table, casually revealing the solid gold Rolex Submariner on his wrist.

Zhao Ke: …

Other transmigrators always arrived at the beginning of the story. Why was she already at the grand finale?

This is like the loser’s post-game summary screen.

As the Fake Heiress’s sidekick, who had repeatedly sabotaged the True Heiress, the original Zhao Ke had naturally met a satisfyingly miserable end.

The female lead had achieved great success, becoming a rising star in the entertainment industry. As a result, Zhao Ke, the female lead, received her due punishment. Her reputation crumbled, she became universally reviled, and her family’s business, which had once been on the fringes of high society, was driven into bankruptcy by the male lead’s invisible hand of market manipulation.

Zhao Ke frowned, trying to make sense of the situation. According to the novel’s description, the male lead had acquired the last of her family’s assets. Unable to accept a life of utter poverty, the original Zhao Ke had died in bitter resentment.

Swallowing nervously, Zhao Ke stared at the thick stack of documents covered in black ink on white paper, a knot of anxiety tightening in her chest.

Is this the deal-signing scene? she wondered, surrounded by several burly bodyguards who left her no choice but to sign.

Gu Jason’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the mahogany table, each tap like the ticking of a final countdown.

“I’ll sign,” Zhao Ke said, closing her eyes briefly.

What choice did she have? Couldn’t they see she was a patient, with an IV drip in her left hand? If she refused, they might just kill her with a needle.

Using her still-functional right hand, Zhao Ke signed her name in the lower right corner. The black ink on white paper sealed the terms.

The assistant standing to Gu Jason’s right quickly gathered the documents, showing remarkable perceptiveness. Gu Jason rose with the imposing aura of a true magnate, straightened his lapels, and shot Zhao Ke a sidelong glance.

“This is life’s routine. You need to learn to take responsibility.”

Zhao Ke: …

What gibberish is he spouting?

As Gu Jason and his entourage departed, Zhao Ke exhaled a sudden, heavy breath and slumped back in her chair, which rocked slightly from the movement.

Huh? Rocking?

Zhao Ke glanced down and realized she was sitting in a wheelchair.

No way. This is a catastrophic start.

She cautiously tried to move her legs, silently praying.

Her feet, clad in plastic, sh1t-blue slippers, touched the floor.

Thank God, thank God! I can still move.

It seemed the Male Lead had simply put her in the wheelchair because she was unconscious and he didn’t want the hassle of carrying her.

Zhao Ke tentatively stood up.

Grasping the mahogany desk in front of her, she slowly pushed herself upright.

Good, good. Aside from feeling a bit weak, I’m still a fully functional cannon fodder character.

Even the ugly hospital gown she was wearing seemed a little more bearable now.

Thud

With her movement, a white phone slipped from the loose pocket of her pants and fell to the floor.

Zhao Ke crouched down to pick it up. The already shattered screen was now even worse, spiderweb-like cracks spreading from the upper left corner to the lower right.

The phone was set up with facial recognition, automatically unlocking when the screen lit up.

Zhao Ke opened WeChat and saw the nickname field read “It’s Zhao Xiaoke~~”. A sudden chill ran down her spine.

With stiff fingers, she changed the name to:

AAA High-Altitude Installation Master Zhao.

This wasn’t just following a trend; before transmigrating, Zhao Ke had been a manual laborer who earned her living through specialized technical skills.

Zhao Ke was an orphan who grew up in a welfare home. Struggling with hunger and inadequate clothing, it was nearly impossible for her to excel academically.

At least, she wasn’t one of those chosen ones.

After completing nine years of compulsory education, she secured a student loan to attend an obscure vocational high school, learning a trade that would help her survive in the world.

Among the many vocational programs at her school, high-altitude work sounded the most impressive and promised the highest earnings.

High-altitude work, as the name suggests, involved being suspended outside skyscrapers by safety ropes to perform tasks that couldn’t be done from inside.

This included installing air conditioner condensers, replacing glass panels on high-end office buildings, and repairing exterior walls.

With their lives hanging by a few climbing ropes, it was a job where workers truly risked their lives every day.

After graduating from vocational school, Zhao Ke spent several years working in the sun and wind hundreds of meters above the ground, finally paying off her student loans.

She had planned to save money for retirement, but fate intervened. One day, the weather suddenly turned violent, and before she could react, she was struck by lightning and killed.

Then, she transmigrated into the body of a cannon fodder character in a novel with the same name and surname.

Zhao Ke, a rough-and-tumble woman, was deeply moved by her stroke of luck in transmigrating.

She didn’t particularly aspire to great wealth or status.

But when Zhao Ke saw the original owner’s WeChat balance of 0.22 yuan, she couldn’t help but grimace.

Half an hour later, Zhao Ke had finished reviewing all the information about the original owner on her phone, finally confirming a stark reality.

She, Zhao Ke, the youngest and most experienced high-altitude spiderwoman in all of City A, possessed a grand total of one yuan, seven mao, and eight fen.

Well, then.

The original owner’s mental breakdown wasn’t entirely unreasonable.

Zhao Ke pushed her wheelchair toward the door.

As she passed the entrance, she glanced back at the doorplate.

Director’s Office.

Male Lead, aren’t you being a bit dramatic?

Zhao Ke felt a pang of embarrassment. How had she never noticed how ostentatious and contrived the Male Lead was when she read the novel?

Zhao Ke pushed her wheelchair forward, navigating through the corridor. Soon, the number of people around her began to increase.

The white-clad figures hurrying back and forth, their footsteps swift and purposeful, formed a stark contrast to the slow, deliberate movements of patients like her, creating two extreme styles.

So, I’m in a hospital.

Zhao Ke realized.

The original owner must have been admitted after being unable to cope with her family’s bankruptcy. Then, with the Male Lead’s final liquidation—his acquisition of all her assets—she had collapsed and died.

“Bed 58, what are you doing standing here?”

“Bed 58, I’m talking to you!”

Zhao Ke felt a tap on her right shoulder.

She turned to see a doctor in a white coat.

“You’re on an IV drip. Why are you wandering around?” The doctor’s eyes were filled with disapproval.

“I’m sorry, I’ll go lie down right away,” Zhao Ke apologized sincerely.

The doctor, who couldn’t stand patients who didn’t value their lives, frowned. “Honestly, you’re such a pretty young girl. What could be so unbearable? Just a few days ago, you were threatening to jump off the building, and now you’re refusing to take your medication.”

“I’m sorry for causing you trouble, Doctor,” Zhao Ke said with an awkward smile, forced to take responsibility for the original owner’s dramatic actions.

Seeing Zhao Ke’s relatively cooperative attitude, the doctor sighed. At her age, she couldn’t bear to see young people squandering their lives.

“I know about your situation—all the online hate and everything. But you can’t resort to suicide. Life goes on.”

Zhao Ke nodded vigorously. “Okay, I’ll think about it properly. Thank you, Doctor.”

The doctor, pleased by Zhao Ke’s obedient response and sweet words, finally relaxed her frown and hurried off to attend to her other duties.

As the IV drip emptied, Zhao Ke carried the bag toward the nurses’ station.

“Could you please remove the IV?” Zhao Ke asked, catching the attention of a nurse who seemed less busy.

The nurse recognized Zhao Ke. After giving her a long, appraising look, she nodded, picked up a cotton swab, and began the procedure.

A few days earlier, Zhao Ke’s original body and the female lead, Qiao Shuxue, had both participated in a variety show. Under the Fake Heiress’s instructions, Zhao Ke had planned to use a prop to disfigure Qiao Shuxue.

The scheme was exposed, and Qiao Shuxue’s quick thinking earned her countless fans, while Zhao Ke was branded a venomous woman and subjected to a full-scale online backlash.

The nurse had genuinely cursed Zhao Ke, as she couldn’t tolerate colleagues who resorted to petty tricks at work.

Yet now, Zhao Ke stood before her, her bare face captivatingly beautiful—a true stunner. The nurse’s breath caught in her throat, and her hand tightened slightly around the cotton swab.

As she removed the IV, she grumbled, “Why didn’t you just ring the call bell instead of coming all the way over here?”

In the past few days, the patient had been a nightmare in the ward, crying, making a scene, and even threatening to hang herself, giving Zhao Ke a splitting headache.

Today, however, she was surprisingly docile.

Zhao Ke didn’t reply, simply pressing her right hand over the injection site on her left arm, taking a deep breath, and bracing herself for the first major blow this novel world was about to deliver.

“Excuse me, could you check how much my total hospital bill is?”

The young nurse, oblivious to Zhao Ke’s stiffness, set down the cotton swab and sat down at the computer to check the system.

“Bed 58, Zhao Ke, right?”

“Yes.”

“So far, it’s 3542.68. You’ll need a few more days of IV fluids, so it’ll probably be just over four thousand in total.”

Zhao Ke’s face instantly turned ashen.

Who could understand the shock of being saddled with such a massive debt the moment she transmigrated? Perhaps four thousand was mere pocket change for the wealthy families in the novel, but for someone like her, who had grown up in poverty and lived as a solitary orphan, it was an overwhelming sum.

“You don’t mean you can’t even afford that much?” The nurse frowned at her.