High-Altitude Worker, Unfortunately a Cannon Fodder Female Supporting Role - Chapter 5

So Qiao Qinglu is just asking for trouble, right? I’m not misunderstanding, am I?

Oh my god, “Zhao, a public-spirited citizen”? These words together make me think I’m seeing things.

So, after all their arguing, we still don’t know who was manipulating whom?

Probably because there’s no evidence. The police can’t really make a judgment in a catfight like this.

Ugh, those two attention-seeking bitches! Just get out of the industry already and stop dragging Snow Treasure down with you!

“Alright, that’s all for today. You two should be more careful about your personal safety. Stay away from places like the rooftop.”

Uncle Hat finished writing the report and frowned as he gave the two women a stern warning.

“Wait a minute,” Zhao Ke suddenly spoke up.

She pointed at Qiao Qinglu and said, “She owes me a phone.”

Uncle Hat followed Zhao Ke’s gaze to Qiao Qinglu. He didn’t say anything, but his meaning was clear.

Regardless of anything else, Qiao Qinglu had undeniably smashed Zhao Ke’s phone.

“Zhao Ke, you’re truly insane,” Qiao Qinglu hissed through gritted teeth.

“Are you going to pay or not?” Zhao Ke asked, crossing her legs on the sofa with a distinctly rogue-like air.

“Just wait,” Qiao Qinglu stomped her foot in anger.

Having no phone of her own, she glanced around the room before her gaze finally landed on Uncle Hat.

“Excuse me, could I make a call?”

After receiving the phone, Qiao Qinglu lowered her eyes and dialed a number.

After what felt like an eternity of agonizing seconds, Qiao Qinglu was nearly biting her lip raw when the call finally connected.

“Hello?”

A deep, muffled male voice answered curtly, leaving the distinct impression of impatience on the other end.

Qiao Qinglu took a deep breath and, forcing her voice into a high-pitched whine, called out, “Brother Cheng~”

“Qiao Qinglu? Why are you calling again?”

Qiao Qinglu pressed her lips together, refusing to answer. After a few tense seconds, the voice relented as if granting her a pardon. “Fine, what do you want?”

Zhao Ke sat leisurely on the sofa, raising an eyebrow slightly.

Looks like Qiao Qinglu isn’t doing much better than me, she thought.

Qiao Qinglu continued to strain her voice, adopting a pitiful and aggrieved tone. “Brother Cheng~ My phone broke. Could you buy me a new one?”

Zhao Ke shuddered at the saccharine tone, goosebumps rising on her skin.

Fortunately, Qiao Qinglu’s performance was limited to her voice. Zhao Ke noticed that her face remained utterly expressionless, stiff as a marionette.

Zhao Ke suddenly lost all interest in watching the charade.

Uncle Hat, sensing the awkwardness, quietly slipped out of the room.

Half an hour later, Zhao Ke accepted the white, plastic-wrapped box Qiao Qinglu handed her.

“I never want to see you again,” Qiao Qinglu said, her eyes red-rimmed and her voice trembling despite her efforts to control it.

Zhao Ke replied flatly, “Just stay out of my sight.”

With that, she picked up the SIM card from the shattered remains of her phone on the floor and left the office.

Qiao Qinglu watched her retreating figure, her eyes filled with a sinister glint.

When Zhao Ke returned to her hospital room, Sun Yue from Bed 57 was waiting for her.

“Holy sh1t, you’re back! Are you okay?” Sun Yue exclaimed, scrambling from the head of her bed to the edge, using both hands and feet.

God only knew what had gone through Sun Yue’s mind. When Zhao Ke first left, she hadn’t thought much of it. But then she stumbled upon Qiao Qinglu’s live stream on her phone.

The moment she saw the two figures plummet from the building, Sun Yue leaped out of bed and rushed to the window, desperate to see what had happened.

But her room was on the tenth floor, and the night outside was pitch-black, offering no clues.

“I’m fine,” Zhao Ke said, waving her hand dismissively.

She had changed into a fresh hospital gown and now wore muscle recovery patches on both hands. At first glance, she looked like a boxer about to enter the ring, the black patches tracing the contours of her joints with a violent, explosive beauty.

Sun Yue stared at Zhao Ke’s wrists, momentarily lost in thought.

“Here, Xiao Zhao, an apple for you as a reward,” Auntie from Bed 56 said with a cheerful smile, pulling an apple from her pocket and handing it to Zhao Ke.

“Young people these days are truly remarkable,” she praised. “So brave and righteous.”

Zhao Ke didn’t argue, accepting the apple with a smile and a thank you.

She was genuinely hungry.

Sun Yue’s gaze followed Zhao Ke closely. “How did you manage that?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Zhao Ke chewed on her apple, mumbling, “Actually, I’m Spider-Man.”

Sun Yue, expecting a serious explanation, rolled her eyes and scoffed, “Yeah, and I’m Iron Man.”

Then she noticed the new phone in Zhao Ke’s hand. “Where did that come from?”

Zhao Ke answered truthfully, “Qiao Qinglu broke my old one. This is her compensation.”

The mention of Qiao Qinglu ignited Sun Yue’s gossip-loving spirit. Her eyes sparkled as she asked, “Between you and Qiao Qinglu, who was really the mastermind?”

She quickly added, trying to cover her tracks, “Not that I’m gossiping, of course. I’m just standing up for my Snow Treasure.”

Zhao Ke raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking me? Then I’ll definitely say it was all Qiao Qinglu’s fault.”

Sun Yue: ……

“Forget it. You shouldn’t even think about returning to the entertainment industry. You’re completely dishonest.”

Zhao Ke shrugged, unbothered by Sun Yue’s opinion.

She finished the apple in a few bites, wiped her hands, and turned on her new phone.

Not bad, still top-of-the-line. Qiao Qinglu actually has some taste, Zhao Ke thought, nodding inwardly.

“Can we add each other on WeChat?”

Sun Yue leaned closer, unable to explain her own compulsion to have Zhao Ke on her contact list.

“Sure,” Zhao Ke replied, indifferent.

Then she added, “By the way, could you lend me some money?”

Zhao Ke considered the matter carefully. To take the certification exam for high-altitude work, she needed to save up for travel expenses alone.

Besides, she had no other clothes to wear. She couldn’t possibly show up in a hospital gown, or they’d think she was crazy and kick her out.

Sun Yue was shocked. “Seriously, Zhao Ke? You’re a celebrity! You’re asking me for money?”

Zhao Ke smiled sheepishly. “Just a hundred. I’ll definitely pay you back when I earn some.”

“Forget it, just drop it.”

Sun Yue flopped back onto the bed, flicked her fingers, and transferred two hundred yuan to Zhao Ke.

For someone who had taken sick leave from work and checked herself into the hospital to avoid her job, this amount was nothing more than pocket change.

She recalled how she had spent thousands, even tens of thousands, trying to meet Qiao Shuxue, only to fail to catch even a glimpse of her idol.

For two hundred yuan, she had added an artist to her WeChat—even a scandal-ridden one. It seemed like a decent bargain.

Zhao Ke grinned and sent Sun Yue a “Thank you, boss!” sticker.

Inside a trailer parked beside the film set:

“Sister Xue, you’ve worked so hard,” the attentive assistant said, offering a blanket and hot water to Qiao Shuxue, who had just finished filming.

“I’m exhausted,” Qiao Shuxue grumbled, collapsing into her seat.

The assistant stood beside her, lips twitching nervously, unsure how to broach the subject.

Qiao Shuxue glanced sideways at her, frowning. “What is it? Spit it out.”

The assistant flinched, hurriedly pulling out her phone and presenting it respectfully to Qiao Shuxue. “Sister Xue, look! Qiao Qinglu and Zhao Ke are causing a stir again. They’re dominating the trending topics.”

Qiao Shuxue snatched the phone impatiently and stared at the screen.

The names “Zhao Ke” and “Qiao Qinglu” flashed repeatedly, stinging her eyes.

After scrolling through the top few trending topics, suppressing her anger, Qiao Shuxue scoffed coldly. “Just a couple of clowns. Ignore them.”

With that, she tossed the phone back to her assistant and closed her eyes, leaning back in her seat.

As long as she had the Beauty System, Zhao Ke could fly to the moon and still wouldn’t make a ripple.

A few days later, Zhao Ke was successfully discharged from the hospital.

Feeling deeply guilty for having signed her first hospital IOU, Zhao Ke hurried to the high-altitude work assessment site.

The assessment site was an indoor factory with a high ceiling, designed to minimize the impact of weather on the candidates.

“What are you here for?”

As expected, Zhao Ke was stopped at the entrance.

She presented her ID card to the Examiner, who was wearing a yellow hard hat, and explained, “I’m here to take the exam.”

“You?”

The Examiner’s voice was filled with surprise and skepticism.

In his nearly twenty years of experience, he had never seen a woman apply for this line of work.

The primary requirements for high-altitude work were slenderness and agility.

The Examiner scanned Zhao Ke from head to toe.

Her plain, almost cheap-looking short-sleeved shirt and long pants clung to her lean but not frail frame. With her long arms and legs, she seemed like a promising candidate for the job.

“Yes, it’s me,” Zhao Ke replied. “I’ve been doing this for several years already, but my foreign certifications aren’t recognized here, so I need to retake the exam.”

When the original owner of her body had been wealthy, she had studied abroad. Zhao Ke had borrowed a bit of that backstory, figuring the Examiner wouldn’t bother to check.

The examiner checked Zhao Ke’s ID against the examination roster and, as expected, found her name listed.

“Alright, you can go in. The examination standards are the same for everyone, you know that, right?”

“Yes,” Zhao Ke nodded, offering no further explanation.

The examination consisted of three parts. The first part involved inspecting safety equipment such as helmets and harnesses. Candidates had to verbally explain the purpose of each item and demonstrate the proper wearing procedures.

Over a dozen candidates were taking the exam today, and all passed this initial stage without difficulty.

The second part was a practical assessment focused on using suspended cages for high-altitude work.

Suspended cages, as the name suggests, are open-topped iron boxes suspended from the roofs of tall buildings. Typically accommodating two workers, these cages are equipped with cleaning tools and are primarily used for cleaning the exterior walls of skyscrapers.

This part of the exam required candidates to work in pairs.

From the moment Zhao Ke entered the examination area, she was subjected to constant scrutiny from both the other candidates and the examiners.

Even after she smoothly passed the first stage without hesitation, most remained skeptical.

How could this be? When has a woman ever been competent in this line of work?

Unsurprisingly, Zhao Ke found herself without a partner when the second exam required teams.

The examiner controlled the number of participants, so Zhao Ke wasn’t simply an odd one out. Rather, after everyone else had paired up, the remaining candidate preferred to stand awkwardly alone rather than team up with her.

The examiner frowned. To expedite the exam, he called out names.

With his years of experience, he could tell Zhao Ke was no novice. She handled the safety harness with practiced ease.

“Zheng Yang, you’ll team up with Zhao Ke.”

“Examiner, I refuse.”

Zheng Yang stood his ground, rejecting the order without hesitation, showing no respect for the examiner’s authority.

At eighteen, fresh out of vocational school, he was in that brash, fearless phase of youth.

“This girl will only hold me back.”

“So, you’re withdrawing from the exam?”

The examiner loathed such arrogant young candidates—all talk and no substance.

Hold you back? Does he think my examiner’s eye is blind?

Zheng Yang’s face flushed crimson under the examiner’s rebuke, his pride stung.

The other candidates watched coldly, their expressions tinged with amusement, enjoying the spectacle.

What a loser. Good thing I’m not stuck with her.