High-Altitude Worker, Unfortunately a Cannon Fodder Female Supporting Role - Chapter 40

Four Frames of Life had concluded its run successfully. Despite the twists and turns, the series had garnered significant viewership and sparked lively discussions. Both the producers and sponsors were highly satisfied, even considering a second season.

With Pang Chao’s arrest, the online smear campaign gradually subsided, but Zhao Ke’s public image remained mixed. For now, she could only take things one step at a time.

Liu Tiande rallied his spirits. The moment he started preparing Zhao Ke for her new role, he seemed to rediscover his passion as her manager. He diligently coached her on acting techniques while collaborating with the Among the Woods production team on publicity and distribution strategies.

The official Among the Woods Weibo account posted: “Shadows of bamboo, hidden dangers lurk. Three realms vie for supremacy—who will claim the throne? Introducing our lead actor: @Zhao Ke as Ming Xiang.”

The comments below were sharply divided:

“Congratulations on the production launch! @Zhao Ke”

“Wow, Keke looks so cool as an assassin!”

“Awesome! Can’t wait to see Zhao Ke shine!”

“Seriously? A disgraced celebrity getting a role? And in Director He’s project, no less!”

“Ugh, I was so excited for Among the Woods, but this one rotten apple spoils the whole barrel.”

“Is there no one else in the entertainment industry? Zhao Ke’s face fits Ming Xiang perfectly, but how could Director He risk casting someone so controversial?”

Director He, whose full name was He Renren, might have a cute-sounding name, but he was a director known for his rigorous and meticulous approach.

Specializing in wuxia films, Director He demanded excellence in every aspect, from casting and cinematography to lighting and editing. His insistence on practical fight scenes resulted in films of exceptional quality and critical acclaim, making him highly sought after in the industry.

“Action! Formless Sect confrontation, one take!”

In the Cloudmist Mountain Forest, a towering pagoda pierced the sky. Several figures wearing pure white masks stood atop the pagoda, their movements graceful and ethereal.

“Imperial Court lackeys, daring to trespass on Formless Sect territory? Heh, how bold.”

Yue Xing, playing the male lead—the Junior Minister of the Court of Judicial Review—stood below the pagoda, Horizontal Blade in hand. “The Formless Sect disregards human life, slaughtering innocent civilians. By Imperial Court law, you shall be executed on the spot!”

“The Imperial Court? Law? Heh, such nonsense!”

From the pagoda’s summit, the white-masked figure’s eyes gleamed with avarice.

“Ming Xiang, kill him!”

Suddenly, a faint breeze stirred. From the shadows behind the white-robed figure, a dark silhouette gradually emerged, shrouded in darkness and radiating an icy chill.

Zhao Ke slipped past the masked figure, took a light step forward, and faced the pagoda, leaning backward over the edge.

Yue Xing saw a flash of cold light as two short blades hurtled toward his face.

The wire harness yanked him backward, but Zhao Ke pursued relentlessly.

Yue Xing held his long sword horizontally across his chest, but in the next instant, Zhao Ke suddenly appeared behind him, her short blade poised to pierce his throat.

“Cut!”

Zhao Ke heard the director’s command and immediately stopped, pulling the prop dagger away from Yue Xing’s neck.

Director He’s expression remained impassive, making it impossible to gauge his satisfaction.

Zhao Ke stood stiffly with her hands clasped behind her back, waiting for his verdict.

In Among the Woods, Zhao Ke played a cold-blooded assassin trained by the Formless Sect, one of the two major martial arts sects. Though notorious for her cruelty, she gradually found meaning in life through the protagonist group’s influence and ultimately sacrificed herself.

While the wire work gave Zhao Ke an edge, she still worried that her weeks of diligent practice might not meet Director He’s exacting standards.

“Next scene!”

Director He offered no further comment, turning to instruct the lighting technicians to reposition.

“Impressive, Zhao Ke!” Yue Xing sheathed his long sword, his eyes filled with genuine admiration. “Your wire work looks like you’re actually flying! I’m truly impressed.”

“Oh, no, no,” Zhao Ke waved her hands dismissively, flattered by the praise.

Guan Muya, the female lead of Among the Woods and a child star, approached with a smile, looping her arm through Zhao Ke’s. “Don’t be nervous. Your performance was great. Director He’s silence means he’s satisfied.”

Guan Muya, having grown up in the industry, was intimately familiar with the working styles of renowned directors.

Guan Muya’s current role also fell within her comfort zone: Chu Qiuchi, the daughter of the sect leader of Canglang Sword Pavilion, one of the two major martial arts sects. Having lost her memory and wandered into the martial world, Chu Qiuchi unexpectedly met the Male Lead and formed a detective team with several other distinctive characters to uncover the Formless Sect’s sinister schemes.

Zhao Ke, playing a villainous character sandwiched between the righteous Male and Female Leads, felt deeply guilty.

Ming Xiang, Zhao Ke’s character, had repeatedly betrayed the protagonists. Influenced by her role, Zhao Ke felt that even speaking to Guan Muya would taint this “flower of the nation.”

To better embody her character’s cold-blooded assassin persona, Zhao Ke minimized interaction with others, resolutely becoming a melancholy mushroom rooted in the film set.

But through the paparazzi’s long-range lenses, Zhao Ke became the perfect candidate: expressionless and utterly lacking in acting skills.

The paparazzi rejoiced, sensing a surge in traffic.

Zhao Ke’s wooden-faced presence beside the protagonist group was plastered across various platforms. While the leads laughed and celebrated with wine, Zhao Ke sat stiffly to the side. As the protagonists righteously dealt with criminals, Zhao Ke openly slacked off.

There was nothing she could do; her character demanded it.

But the online community, unaware of this context, launched a full-scale assault from the first frame.

“Reality TV stars should stay away from dramas! What kind of acting is this?!”

“Ugh, I was so excited for ‘Between the Forests,’ but now I don’t even want to watch it.”

“Can we get a replacement? Can we get a replacement?”

“Boycott Zhao Ke! Boycott this acting fraud!”

Zhao Ke herself remained unfazed by the backlash, reasonably satisfied with her performance.

Director He had been berating the male and female leads, as well as the veteran male actor, for days, yet his criticism never reached her. While this was partly due to her character’s limited dialogue, Zhao Ke’s fluid and effortless action scenes, like a fish in water, had earned the admiration of even the professional martial arts director.

Sensing the online buzz, the production team seized the opportunity and released character posters featuring the main cast.

In her poster, Zhao Ke was clad in an all-black ensemble, accented with silver armor and a wide-brimmed conical hat. Her delicate features were half-hidden in shadow, yet her piercing, icy gaze shot out from beneath the brim with chilling intensity.

“Wow, this look is stunning!”

“If Zhao Ke’s acting were better, this outfit would make her look so cool!”

“I can’t resist! Even if this drama turns out to be trash, I’ll still watch it!”

“Can I just say, the official posters are way better than the paparazzi shots!”

Zhao Ke gradually settled into the rhythm of the production, growing closer to her fellow cast members. Between filming sessions, they would often share meals and bond, fostering camaraderie.

Zhao Ke gradually began to understand the character’s transformation, the gradual awakening of compassion within her.

As filming progressed, the action scenes became increasingly frequent. Zhao Ke often spent consecutive days suspended from wires, spending more time in the air than she ever had during her high-altitude work.

With the arrival of winter, the harsh conditions further restricted the actors’ performances, forcing them to grit their teeth and persevere.

“Cut! That’s a wrap for today! Everyone worked hard!”

Director He, obsessed with authenticity, had dragged the crew to the mountains. The actors fought in the snow, and after each scene, they were covered in mud.

Zhao Ke brushed the snow off her clothes and was about to leave when Director He suddenly called out to her.

“Good performance.”

Director He patted Zhao Ke’s shoulder, sparing few words.

Zhao Ke’s eyes lit up. She quickly bowed in gratitude. After two months of filming, she had finally earned a flicker of satisfaction in the eyes of the notoriously strict director.

Director He nodded, stroking his chin. “Tomorrow we’re shooting the scene where Bai Muxin awakens Chu Qiuchi’s memories. You’re aware of that, right?”

“Yes, Director He.”

Zhao Ke had long since memorized the script. As the female lead, Chu Qiuchi had been suffering from amnesia since the beginning of the story. It was her mother, Bai Muxin’s, reappearance and their reunion that triggered the recovery of her lost memories.

It was during this scene that Zhao Ke, playing the villain, first felt a stirring in her heart, sparking the idea of abandoning her dark path for the light.

Zhao Ke wondered why Director He wanted to give her extra guidance, but he merely chuckled, “Tomorrow, someone you know will be visiting the set. Take good care of them.”

Someone she knew?

Zhao Ke was puzzled. The actress playing the heroine’s mother should be middle-aged, but she didn’t know any middle-aged actresses.

The answer came at noon the next day.

Rather than a “familiar face,” it was more accurate to call her a former colleague with some history.

Zhao Ke never expected Xiao Zhelan to return to work. The last news she’d heard about her was that Xiao Zhelan’s depression had worsened, requiring hospitalization.

As soon as Xiao Zhelan stepped onto the set, she began searching for Zhao Ke. The moment Zhao Ke finished filming, Xiao Zhelan rushed over to greet her.

“Keke, I’ve divorced my ex-husband!”

Zhao Ke froze, startled. Why would someone announce their divorce the moment they meet me?

Noticing Zhao Ke’s stunned expression, Xiao Zhelan belatedly realized her faux pas. A blush crept across her cheeks as she grasped Zhao Ke’s hand. “I’m sorry, I got too excited.”

“After all these years, I’ve finally escaped that demon. Thank you, Keke.”

Understanding dawned in Zhao Ke’s heart. She shook her head with a relieved smile. “That’s all in the past now. Congratulations, Sister Lan.”

Tears of gratitude welled in the corners of Xiao Zhelan’s eyes. She smiled and wiped them away. “It feels so good to be filming again.”

That very day, Xiao Zhelan posted a photo of herself with Zhao Ke, immediately debunking the online rumors that Zhao Ke’s well-intentioned actions had harmed innocent people.

In her heartfelt message, she reiterated her gratitude to Zhao Ke:

“If I could choose again, I wish the younger me had been as brave as Zhao Ke was that day.”

That was what Xiao Zhelan said.

The comments below were overwhelmingly supportive:

Ugh, it’s been such a long and difficult journey. Star Yue Media deserves to rot in hell!

After all these years, the bitter times are finally over! A’Lan, let’s start a new life together!

Thank you, Zhao Ke! Who was behind all the online slander against her? We true fans can’t thank her enough!

Zhao Ke’s actions were so heroic! Why are there still ungrateful people twisting the truth?

Liu Tiande seized the opportunity to capitalize on the moment, posting a message of his own: “Let’s treat the shadows as temporary umbrellas and the storms as natural cleansing rituals. When the tempest subsides, we all deserve a better life!”

That’s so well said!

Reject body shaming! These things mean nothing!

Pang Chao’s twisted thinking is his own problem. Star Yue’s artists shouldn’t have their futures stifled by such baseless nonsense!

“Let’s all believe in a bright future.”

“There are no such things as nudes in this world. If you can’t produce them, it’s slander. If you do, it’s defamation!”

As the year-end approached, the entire film crew relocated to the western desert to shoot grand desert scenes on location, as planned. The harsh conditions were unbearable, yet everyone gritted their teeth and persevered.

“No!”

Guan Muya knelt in the sand, clutching the Bright White Jade Pendant broken in two, her hands trembling violently.

She looked up, tears streaming down her face like pearls from a broken string.

“Miss Mingxiang, why… why would you do this?”

Zhao Ke’s face remained impassive, her eyes cold. Only the fist clenched behind her back, the sharp edges of her nails digging into her palm, betrayed her inner turmoil.

“Sect mission. You will all die here.”