High-Altitude Worker, Unfortunately a Cannon Fodder Female Supporting Role - Chapter 11

Sun Yue was so excited she immediately sent a voice message: “Wait, you’re not even friends, and you’re going to be on a variety show together? What, are you planning to assassinate each other?”

 

Zhao Ke had to explain: “Qiao Qinglu’s contract with the company stipulates that she must do at least one drama series and one variety show per year.”

 

Sun Yue was shocked. “Oh, oh, so she’s completely washed up now, and you just happened to get this gig, so she’s trying to leech off your resources? Is that it?”

 

Zhao Ke: “You could put it that way.”

 

Sun Yue: “That’s amazing! Absolutely amazing! Hahahahaha!”

 

Zhao Ke: This kid’s gone completely mad.

 

Regardless, Zhao Ke was now embarking on her variety show journey.

 

The first theme for Four Frames of Life was supposed to be “Scholar,” with plans to visit schools and let the celebrities experience the allure of knowledge. However, since it was late May, nearing final exams, the timing wasn’t ideal. This segment was therefore moved to the very end of the show.

 

Instead, they would begin filming the “Farmer” theme first. This required them to travel to a small village in the Southwest Region and spend ten days experiencing rural life.

 

Before the official filming began, they needed to shoot a pilot episode, take promotional photos, conduct interviews, and more.

 

At 1:30 PM sharp, Zhao Ke stepped through the television station’s main gate.

 

“I knew she’d be late… Oh, you’re here.”

 

Two figures stood by the studio entrance. Their resentful expressions froze as Zhao Ke approached.

 

Liu Tiande had mentioned on WeChat that Zhao Ke would be assigned an assistant and a makeup artist. These two young women must be them.

 

From Zhao Ke’s perspective, they really were just girls.

 

Their round faces still carried the innocence of youth, untouched by the harsh realities of the working world. Their disdain for Zhao Ke was undisguised.

 

Yet when Zhao Ke met their gaze, they blushed involuntarily.

 

Zhao Ke greeted them warmly, “Hello, I’m Zhao Ke.”

 

“Of course we know you’re Zhao Ke,” Wang Ran muttered, curling her lip. “I’m your assistant, and Li Minjing is your makeup artist.”

 

Zhao Ke nodded and followed them into the dressing room.

 

Almost the instant Zhao Ke sat down, Li Minjing’s voice complained from above.

 

“You’re so tanned from being outside—the foundation can barely cover it.”

 

“Do you even take care of your skin? Can’t you be a little more considerate?”

 

Zhao Ke: …

 

Actually, she thought her skin was fine. It still felt quite smooth to the touch.

 

It wasn’t even summer yet, and Zhao Ke only looked slightly healthier than when she’d first arrived, not as dark as Lü Yikang and the others, who were tanned like coal.

 

“I’ll be more careful in the future,” Zhao Ke said, finally easing Li Minjing’s expression.

 

In truth, Zhao Ke’s skin was naturally quite good. Li Minjing had worked with male celebrities with far worse complexions. Her resentment stemmed from Zhao Ke’s earlier mistreatment, and she had deliberately sought revenge when she learned she would be serving this “high-maintenance” client again.

 

At the company, assistant Wang Ran and Li Minjing were both junior staff members who had recently been promoted. Initially, Liu Tiande hadn’t approached either of them, but everyone else had found ways to avoid the assignment, leaving them as the last resort.

 

Wang Ran watched Zhao Ke’s brow furrow slightly from the unfamiliar foundation, silently chanting, Don’t cause trouble, don’t cause trouble.

 

Zhao Ke was a natural beauty with striking bone structure. With just a simple base, her exceptional features shone through in the mirror.

 

Li Minjing’s hand, holding the contour brush, froze mid-air.

 

Her mind raced, imagining how this face would look with different styles of elaborate makeup.

 

Damn it, my hands are itching.

 

Wang Ran pulled out prepared documents from her bag and handed them to Zhao Ke.

 

“Here’s information on all the guests. Take a quick look so you don’t offend anyone right off the bat.”

 

Zhao Ke accepted the documents and thanked her.

 

As soon as Wang Ran’s hand was free, goosebumps erupted across her entire body.

 

Holy sh1t, the goddess just thanked me!

 

Four Frames of Life had invited a total of seven guests. Besides Zhao Ke and Qiao Qinglu—the two unlucky souls—there were four men and one woman, all artists with some fame and a solid fan base in the entertainment industry.

 

Zhao Ke skimmed through the documents and recognized only one male guest’s name from the novel:

 

Yu Huizhou, the male lead in Qiao Shuxue’s debut drama.

 

Zhao Ke remembered him as having a self-sacrificing personality. On set, he had taken meticulous care of Qiao Shuxue, even feeding her lines on camera.

 

The final result was that when the drama aired, fans unanimously believed Yu Huizhou had been overshadowed by Qiao Shuxue, leaving the public with the impression that he was a poor actor.

 

Yet Qiao Shuxue, as the female lead, never stepped forward to clarify the situation.

 

“Hello, is Teacher Zhao in this room?”

 

A crisp knock sounded, followed by a young man’s voice.

 

Zhao Ke, restrained by Li Minjing, couldn’t turn around. She could only hear Wang Ran’s enthusiastic greeting: “Teacher Qi, please come in! Zhao Ke’s here.”

 

Through the mirror, Zhao Ke saw Qi Xinshu standing behind her, his face radiating a polite smile.

 

Qi Xinshu had debuted as an idol, but it was his hilarious antics on variety shows that catapulted him to fame. Now, invited to join a new variety show, he was making the rounds to build rapport with the other guests beforehand.

 

“Hello, Teacher Zhao. I’m Qi Xinshu. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 

“Hello, hello, Teacher Qi,” Zhao Ke stammered, overwhelmed by the honor. It was the first time anyone had ever called her “Teacher.”

 

Qi Xinshu had braced himself for a cold reception from Zhao Ke, but instead, he was met with an unexpected, flustered warmth.

 

“Teacher Zhao, I’ve brought some afternoon tea for your team. It’s a small token of appreciation. I hope we can work well together in the future.”

 

Zhao Ke felt immense pressure, as if facing a formidable opponent. “You’re too kind! Thank you, thank you.”

 

She escorted him to the makeup room door, watching respectfully as he walked away before finally snapping out of her daze.

 

Turning around, she saw Wang Ran and Li Minjing staring at her with blank eyes.

 

“What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?”

 

Wang Ran’s lips moved slightly, but she remained silent.

 

Zhao Ke could only sit back down in the stiff atmosphere. “We should find a chance to return the favor later.”

 

Clatter!

 

The eyeshadow palette fell from Li Minjing’s hand.

 

“Aaaaaah!”

 

Wang Ran let out an unintelligible scream, spun around rapidly, and slammed her head against the table.

 

“Hey, hey, careful!” Zhao Ke grabbed Wang Ran’s head with one hand while picking up the eyeshadow palette with the other.

 

Seeing the cracks on the palette, she frowned. “It’s broken. Was this expensive?”

 

Wang Ran and Li Minjing: Their pupils dilated in shock.

 

Yesterday, when Liu Tiande had sworn a thousand times that Zhao Ke had turned over a new leaf, they had refused to believe it.

 

But Liu Tiande was a senior colleague, and they had no right to refuse his request.

 

Yet now…

 

Li Minjing numbly took the palette and resumed her unfinished makeup.

 

Distracted, her hand trembled, and the brush nearly poked Zhao Ke in the eye.

 

“I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” she apologized hastily.

 

“It’s fine,” Zhao Ke replied calmly.

 

Nothing had happened.

 

This must be a dream.

 

“Zhao Ke! Go tell the director you don’t want to be interviewed with me!”

 

Qiao Qinglu’s high heels clicked sharply across the floor, her shrill, irritable voice adding to the jarring noise.

 

Zhao Ke showed no emotion, merely glancing in the mirror at Qiao Qinglu’s overly dramatic makeup and outfit. “I’m not going. Go yourself.”

 

“Aaaah! You b1tch!” Qiao Qinglu stomped her foot, as if trying to shatter the ceramic tiles with her stiletto heel.

 

Wang Ran and Li Minjing stared at Qiao Qinglu as if she were a lunatic.

 

Qiao Qinglu remained unchanged, the same as ever.

 

Qiao Qinglu’s assistant had momentarily lost track of her, allowing her to escape.

 

She searched room by room until she finally found her at Zhao Ke’s place.

 

“Sister Qiao, let’s go back. It’s not a big deal to do the interview together,” the assistant pleaded, casting a sympathetic glance at Wang Ran, as if sharing a common misery.

 

But Wang Ran simply stared back blankly, showing none of the tearful, helpless expression the assistant had expected.

 

What’s going on?

 

Qiao Qinglu’s assistant left, utterly bewildered.

 

Zhao Ke watched Qiao Qinglu’s retreating figure disappear before grimacing. “I have to do an interview with her?”

 

Wang Ran snapped out of her daze and nodded helplessly. “It’s the director’s arrangement, Zhao… Sister Ke. You have a solo interview and a joint interview with Qiao Qinglu.”

 

Zhao Ke sighed. “…Fine.”

 

“We’re about the same age. Just call me Zhao Ke.”

 

Wang Ran and Li Minjing, still dazed, escorted Zhao Ke to the interview room.

 

Director Qu Zhuocheng was an unremarkable middle-aged man wearing a baseball cap and vest. His narrowed eyes gleamed with a shrewd, assessing light.

 

“Zhao Ke? You’re here! Come, come.”

 

“Director Qu,” Zhao Ke greeted him, stepping forward as instructed.

 

Behind her, Wang Ran and Li Minjing stopped, their eyes filled with worry.

 

Qu Zhuocheng scrutinized Zhao Ke.

 

She was dressed in the outfit the company had prepared: a short, sharp biker jacket paired with deconstructed cargo pants and chunky platform combat boots. Li Minjing had meticulously styled her hair with a claw clip, completing her look with a polished, edgy vibe.

 

“If something like what happened on the hospital rooftop happens again during filming, how will you handle it?” Qu Zhuocheng asked with a sly smile.

 

Zhao Ke hesitated. “…That shouldn’t happen again.”

 

“You never know.”

 

“I bought insurance…”

 

Qu Zhuocheng burst into laughter. “Alright, enough teasing. Let’s get to the interview.”

 

Zhao Ke, bewildered, could only follow his instructions and step in front of the camera.

 

The plush sofa and soft cushions subtly eased Zhao Ke’s nervousness in front of the camera. Soft lighting bathed her face, revealing a beauty that would be etched into viewers’ memories.

 

A female host conducted the interview.

 

“Zhao Ke, what made you decide to participate in our variety show, Four Frames of Life?”

 

Zhao Ke: “Because they offered a lot of money.”

 

Host: “…Hahaha, compared to your previous work in High-Altitude Operations? Then why did you want to work in that field before?”

 

Zhao Ke: “Because I needed to make a living.”

 

The host continued with several more questions, but no matter what she asked, Zhao Ke’s answers always revolved around money.

 

It was a peculiar sensation. Zhao Ke didn’t seem to be deliberately playing the victim; rather, she exuded an innate air of honesty and poverty.

 

Truly pitiful.

 

Behind the camera, the host’s face turned pale. She began to doubt her interviewing skills—how else could someone maintain such a blank expression on camera?

 

“Zhao Ke, for the final shot, could you give us a smile?”

 

Zhao Ke: “…Okay.”

 

She turned to the camera and offered a smile that radiated profound hardship.