Chapter Forty-Nine: The Hard Days (Fifth Update, Hoping for the First Subscription)

In the following days, they occasionally landed some nonsensical minor roles. Sometimes they had to crawl and scuffle around on construction sites; other times, they merely played extras—pretending to be passersby or even corpses, which was quite normal. Often, they didn’t even have a single line to speak, and with their clothes filthy and faces barely visible, simply showing their face was a struggle.

That’s the life of an extra. There used to be rumors that the crew at least provided boxed meals, but only after actually working in the industry did they realize those meals were a privilege reserved for veteran actors. Newcomers serving as extras rarely got such treatment. Moreover, extras were supposed to receive some pay, but in reality, that was rarely the case.

For the first three months, extras had to pay a hefty deposit. Without steady work for a month or two, the promised wages were nothing but empty promises. And if anyone quit without permission during this period, the deposit would be forfeited.

So, for people like Li Yiting and the others, who moved around frequently, it was basically just a loss—paying deposits with nothing to show for it.

Many others were in the same situation. Young people nowadays had the odd habit of being picky and choosy; very few managed to stick it out for three full months.

The seasoned actors looked down on these newcomers—they lacked skill and patience, wasting a good appearance by playing roles that didn’t suit them.

Sometimes, out of a perverse sense of amusement, the veterans would toy with the newbies. After all, these fresh faces were all talk and no skill, painfully inexperienced. When boxed meals were handed out, the quantity was limited, and the veterans, familiar with the crew, always grabbed them early.

Newcomers dared not protest, though a few bold fools occasionally tried to snatch a boxed meal from the veterans, only to invite more trouble. The worst places, the highest spots, the constant groveling—these were all theirs. The veterans would even improvise extra scenes, playing until they were thoroughly entertained.

With dozens of cameras rolling, who dared act out? The only option was to endure silently; otherwise, if the director blamed them, they’d be shown the door.

Just today, during a shoot at a construction site, they waited for an hour or two before filming. The process was exhausting and filthy, involving climbing scaffolding several meters high. A group photo of workers was taken dozens of times; when the lead actors arrived, they had to pose as background extras repeatedly.

The veterans had already positioned themselves in easy, prominent spots, while the rest had to climb higher, many out of the frame, with countless showing only half their faces.

After all the fuss, many newcomers were utterly exhausted, their grimy costumes making them itch all over. Watching the veterans disappear in a crowd to smoke somewhere, everyone felt dejected. They were unfamiliar with the location, and it was already past noon—they were all hoping for boxed meals.

Then a large truck arrived, loading everyone in and rattling them back. There were no boxed meals. The crew chief said it wasn’t mealtime yet. Everyone was hungry and thirsty, and most fell asleep amid the bumps.

It took nearly two hours to return to the company. When they inquired about the meals, the crew chief said there were no afternoon shoots scheduled, so no meals would be provided.

The group exploded in protest, but had no choice but to disperse helplessly. The company’s rules clearly stated that if there was only half a day of shooting, no meals were provided. But wasn’t this a trap? The travel time alone wasn’t accounted for. The company staff had already left, and there was no one to argue with.

The exhausted extras didn’t even have the energy to curse; they scattered to find their own food.

Li Yiting looked at the two girls beside him, who had been mistreated and looked a sorry sight. He felt a pang of sympathy—how could they endure such harsh times and still persevere?

He suggested treating them to a decent meal as compensation, but both politely declined. Yi Ruo, in particular, embodied a unique resilience typical of her people, straightforwardly saying that these hardships were nothing and they should just carry on as usual.

Qian Ya licked her cracked lips but ultimately held back from speaking.

---

At Li Yiting’s insistence, they did have a somewhat better meal, but he noticed Yi Ruo’s mood was low—not from exhaustion, but from the bleak outlook on finding the person they sought.

Yi Ruo was restrained; she acknowledged that everyone was enduring hardship together, not just her alone.

Li Yiting was troubled too. Knowing full well that Xiao Su had perished, where could he possibly search for such a person? Yet he had another purpose on this trip. Continuing to live as extras made uncovering any secrets nearly impossible. Like Yi Ruo, he felt a weighty gloom.

Qian Ya saw through their thoughts. She put down her chopsticks and said earnestly, “Hey, if we want to find this person, we have to make contact with the higher-ups as soon as possible.”

Yi Ruo asked, puzzled, “We’ve been here several days. Besides the crew chief and the cameraman, we haven’t really interacted with anyone else. That young director on location isn’t exactly a high-up, is he?”

Qian Ya shook her head. “No, the people who came to the auditions a few days ago—they’re the higher-ups. At least part of the human resources management team. Judging by how they present themselves, they’re doing pretty well…”

Yi Ruo nodded, recalling carefully but unsure what else to say.

“I think among those people, there must be some directors. If we can get connected to them, we can quickly infiltrate their internal systems. That way, we won’t have to endure this constant wandering and fruitless effort,” Qian Ya said confidently, as if she had a solid plan.

Li Yiting chuckled, “Do you have a specific plan? Besides, those who come to auditions are probably just errand runners—not really high-ranking executives.”

Qian Ya suddenly lowered her voice mysteriously, “Don’t interrupt. I want to tell you something… I think I’ve discovered a secret these past few days.”

Yi Ruo merely turned her head slightly, but Li Yiting smiled wryly, “Really?”

Qian Ya snorted and rolled her eyes at him. “You men are so careless. Alright, let me ask you two—how many people are in our group?”

There were many extras, generally divided into several groups, each assigned to different productions as background actors. While these people moved around, the groups remained mostly stable.

Yi Ruo shook her head blankly. “I really haven’t noticed, and they don’t talk to us anyway.”

Li Yiting said calmly, “There are about fifty people. Except for seven or eight veterans, most are newcomers. About thirty men, and just over twenty women.” It seemed he had paid some attention.

“That’s way too vague,” Qian Ya glared at him, clearly dissatisfied.

Li Yiting laughed, “If you really want to know, just ask the crew chief for the boxed meal distribution list—that’s absolutely exact.”

Qian Ya sighed, “Forget it. This isn’t really important.”

“Uh, if it’s not important, why bring it up?” Li Yiting said with mock exasperation.

Qian Ya snapped, “I’m not done yet… why the rush?”

Li Yiting fell silent. Sometimes her thoughts were so unexpectedly sharp that he could only soothe her, “Go on, I’m listening.”

Qian Ya thought for a moment. “Tell me, who do you think is the most beautiful in our group?”

Li Yiting almost spat out his tea in surprise—her train of thought was so erratic he couldn’t keep up.

Yi Ruo, however, didn’t laugh. She thought seriously for a moment before answering, “It should be that girl, Lin, who just graduated not long ago. Many people fawn over her, and several guys protect her.”

Qian Ya nodded approvingly. “Good observation, Yi Ruo. You’re like a detective, but you totally miss the main point.”

Li Yiting thought to himself: Why should I care about her? She’s not my type. Are you women envious or jealous? But he could only cough awkwardly, speechless.

Qian Ya suddenly grew serious. “By the way, where did this standout Lin go yesterday?”