He should have no problem going to a film crew and playing an extra like this, right? He wasn't asking for much-as long as they fed him.
He was wondering where to find casting notices when a voice suddenly rang out in his head.
[Congratulations to the host on successfully unlocking the Cannon Fodder Performance System!]
Song Shi'an shot out of his seat, banging his knee against a table leg. He grimaced in pain but didn't dare cry out.
It was here! Finally! He'd known there was no way he could transmigrate without a golden finger!
"System! What's this Cannon Fodder Performance System?"
[Play cannon fodder supporting roles and record them in the system. Collect one hundred role performances to receive ten billion in assets, freedom from illness and disaster, and a long life of a hundred years.]
Song Shi'an's eyes lit up. Ten billion in assets, a hundred-year life-one hundred roles sounded like a lot, but considering the reward, it was worth it.
"What's the penalty for failure?"
[If the mission fails, the host's lifespan will be reclaimed. The host's current lifespan is on temporary loan from the system. The original owner's lifespan ended before the host arrived.]
Song Shi'an's heart lurched. "Then why did I come here?"
[The host died in his original world and was matched to the current world. Please work hard to complete the mission and gain a new life.]
Song Shi'an slowly sank back into his chair. He'd died in his original world. He thought back: he'd been staying up late in his dorm to finish his thesis when his heart had suddenly seized, and then he'd known nothing more.
If the old principal who'd funded his education learned he was gone, he'd probably sigh. There wasn't really anyone else who would care.
The guy next door let out another howl. This time, it was a crying scene, but his sobs sounded like laughter.
Song Shi'an took a deep breath and forced the ache back down into his belly.
Fine. He was already here, after all. He'd died and picked up a god-tier beautiful body for free. It would be too much of a waste not to finish playing those hundred cannon fodder roles.
He opened his phone and started searching for casting notices.
After searching for quite a while, he discovered a huge film studio complex nearby. Recruitment notices for extras were everywhere, and most were of the same sort.
"Urgently hiring corpses for a war production. One hundred a day, paid daily."
"Corpses wanted for a costume drama. Lie down for four hours. Meals included."
"Filming an execution-ground scene tomorrow. Fifteen corpses needed. First come, first served."
Song Shi'an pinged the system in his head. "System buddy, do corpses count as cannon fodder?"
[They can, but they cannot be corpses from the opening. They must appear first, have camera time and a performance, and then die. Lying motionless makes them props, not cannon fodder.]
Song Shi'an understood. He just had to show his face before dying: make an entrance, go through the motions, then die. The full package.
He browsed an extras' group chat and discovered that a bus took people to the studio complex every morning.
He didn't know a soul, and even if he went, he wouldn't know the ropes. Just as he was worrying over that, the guy next door started up again.
"Just kill me! You won't get a single word out of me!"
A full thirty seconds of roaring followed.
Song Shi'an's eyes lit up. A guide, ready-made.
Before dawn the next day, he gritted his teeth and spent six yuan on three meat buns.
He ate one first, wrapped the remaining two in a plastic bag and tucked them into his pocket, then squatted outside the door next door.
Liu Bin opened the door to find someone squatting outside. He jumped backward in fright, nearly flinging his belt away.
"Hey! Buddy, what are you squatting outside my door for?"
Song Shi'an hurriedly stood up, but his legs had long since gone numb. Grimacing, he braced himself against the wall and took a good while to recover. "Bro, I'm your next-door neighbor. Remember me?"
Liu Bin eyed him warily from head to toe. "What is it?"
Song Shi'an put on a smile and offered him the two meat buns. "Bro, I'm new here, and I heard you're doing pretty well with the film crews. I hear you practicing your lines next door every day, and I really admire you. I'd like to tag along and see how things work. Would that be okay?"
Liu Bin's wariness turned to pleasure. He accepted the buns, unable to suppress the corners of his mouth, and coughed with feigned composure. "Ahem. Don't fall for me, bro. I'm only getting started, but I've landed a big role this time. If you want to watch, come along. You'd better get an actor's pass, though."
Song Shi'an clenched a fist inwardly. The original owner had an actor's pass-he'd seen it while searching the drawers. Nice!
The bus was packed. Liu Bin snagged a seat, leaving Song Shi'an standing.
The bus was thick with the smell of buns, sweat, and some indescribable scent unique to extras. Squeezed until his head swam, he nearly had his face pressed against the back of the older man's head in front of him.
Only when they reached the studio complex did Song Shi'an get an eye-opener.
A vast expanse of buildings in ancient styles stretched before him, with full-scale city walls, palaces, and streets.
The crew was so busy their feet barely touched the ground. Equipment cases littered the ground, lighting technicians set up equipment, and production assistants ran all over the set with walkie-talkies.
Liu Bin patted his shoulder. "Have a look around. I'm going to get my makeup done. My character has two lines today." With that, he strode off, head held high, his retreating figure radiating the confidence of someone about to shine.
Song Shi'an tucked himself beside the equipment cases in a corner and watched the crew spin like tops.
The extras were herded together to a tent to line up for costumes, all coarse cloth and hemp garments in drab gray shades.
A makeup artist was doing their makeup one by one, her technique swift, ruthless, and precise. She picked up a powder puff, gave each face two smacks, swept a brush over their eyebrows, and finished each person in no more than thirty seconds before moving on to the next.
One makeup artist was searching the set with a powder puff for anyone who'd slipped through the net when she caught sight of Song Shi'an in the corner.
She visibly froze, even her footsteps coming to a halt.
She hurried over and swept her eyes over him. The expression on her face could be summed up in four words: beauty beyond this world.
"Which role are you playing? Why haven't you changed yet? Let me do your makeup!" Her powder puff was already raised.
Song Shi'an hurriedly waved his hands. "I'm just here to look around. I'm not an actor."
The makeup artist's hand froze in midair. Her expression went from excitement to disappointment, then from disappointment to reluctance to let go.
She stared at Song Shi'an's face again and again, then sighed and left.
Song Shi'an brushed his hair forward to hide his face and shrank back into the corner.
When he stayed still and silent, he was like a mushroom, and no one noticed him.
He squatted there watching all morning and roughly figured out the basic routine for extras.
Hit their marks, kneel and bow, fall down-all they had to do was follow the assistant director's instructions.
Filming paused at noon, and the production assistants began handing out boxed lunches.
A young production assistant passed him carrying a stack of lunches and casually shoved one into his hands.
Lunch had fallen from the sky!
Song Shi'an held the still-steaming lunch, so touched he nearly cried. Fifteen yuan saved.
He carried his lunch over and squatted beside a group of extras, listening to them chat as he ate.
A girl playing a maid poked at her rice and said, "For Xu Che's scene this afternoon, the guy who was playing his personal guard isn't coming. Apparently, he landed the fourth male lead in another drama."
A tall, skinny guy beside her said, "Exactly. The director's looking for someone right now. I'm tempted to go myself."
The maid looked him up and down and laughed. "Oh, give it a rest. A personal guard has to meet certain looks and build requirements. You're only a hundred and seventy-something centimeters tall. Standing beside the heir, would you be protecting him, or would he be protecting you?"
Song Shi'an was eating shredded potatoes with his head down when a system notification suddenly popped up in his mind.
[Cannon fodder role drop detected: the personal guard in the costume drama "Aspiration to Reach the Clouds," who ultimately dies protecting his master. Match with this role?]
Song Shi'an's chopsticks stopped in midair.
Cannon fodder! And a glorious death scene! This was so much better than being a corpse.
He swallowed the food in his mouth and took a deep breath.
"Accept."