Chapter 1 – Male Leads Worse Than Dogs

Lu Hui was the only unofficial employee in the transmigration system who had completed every single BE script.

When she retired, her coworkers looked at her with deep respect, as if their eyes were shouting, “You’re amazing.”

Lu Hui agreed—she really was amazing.

After all, every single task assigned to her was a cannon-fodder side role. In each world, she served the male lead obediently and thanklessly, only to be crushed in return.

Terminal illness, kidney stolen, abandoned, heart gouged out, scapegoated—you name it.

It was practically a rewritten version of Les Misérables.

“Congratulations, Host, on successfully completing all the tragic female supporting roles in the transmigration system and accumulating full vitality points.”

Lu Hui heard the familiar voice of the system and asked, “So I’m free now?”

The system replied in its annoyingly cheeky tone, “Yes indeed! Your vitality points are enough to exchange for a new life~”

Great. Wonderful. Fantastic.

Her story had been one long tale of tears. It all sounded absurdly melodramatic, but the reason Lu Hui agreed to do the system’s hellish BE tasks in the first place… was because she was diagnosed with a terminal illness.

The day she got her diagnosis, it felt like she’d been struck by a blinding bolt of rainbow-colored lightning. Smoke might as well have been coming out of her head. Looking back on her twenty years of life, one word summed it up: Tragic.

After her parents divorced, she moved into the wealthy Sheng family with her remarried mother.

Because she was the unwanted baggage, her mother nearly failed to marry into the Sheng family, which made her mother hate the sight of her, wishing she’d vanish altogether.

Her stepfather already had a son and daughter with his ex-wife. Her so-called older brother and sister both believed Lu Hui and her mother had ulterior motives, and treated her coldly.

Living under someone else’s roof, Lu Hui had no choice but to keep her head down.

Whenever she ran into the Sheng family’s precious son and princess, she kept her tail between her legs, doing her best not to cause trouble. She’d even have naive little hopes of bonding with them like a real family.

She tried so hard to please them—it was just plain pathetic.

Once, when her older brother was drunk, she kindly brought him medicine to help sober up, only for him to mock her coldly, “Don’t you understand words? leave the hell out my room.”

At school, he made his stance even clearer: “Don’t act like you know me. You’re not worthy.”

No matter what happened, she was always the one blamed. No matter who was at fault, it was somehow always her fault.

Once, because his little girlfriend felt wronged, her brother pushed Lu Hui to the ground. Her head hit the floor so hard she blacked out for hours. When she finally woke up, groggy and dazed, she felt the blood on her head—and finally saw things clearly.

So once she had the means, Lu Hui immediately moved out of the Sheng household. But before she could enjoy her freedom, she got her diagnosis.

At the time, she felt like the heavens were playing a cruel joke on her.

Right then, the Sheng family’s young master had the nerve to call her and say, “Just act like you’re angry, but don’t push it with the whole running-away act. No one’s buying your little seduction game.”

Normally, Lu Hui would’ve never dared hang up on him. But now? She was dying. A dying person has nothing left to fear—so she calmly told him:

“Go fuck yourself and your seduction game asshole.”

After cursing him out, Lu Hui sat on a hospital bench, deep in thought.

That’s when the system appeared, asking her three rapid-fire questions: “Want to survive? Want to survive? Want to survive?”

It sounded like a scam straight out of an MLM pitch. Lu Hui didn’t want to entertain it at first.

But—after hearing the task details and the reward—she was tempted.

She was only twenty. She didn’t want to die. She still wanted to chase her dream of becoming an actress.

Lu Hui had to be honest—the female supporting role BE tasks were absolute hell.

She had to pour her heart and soul into every performance—live for the male leads, die for the male leads, slam into brick walls for the male leads. Happily become their stepping stones and emotional trash cans, giving them her love just to be trampled on.

Need a kidney? Here. A heart? Take it. Need a scapegoat? She’d carry the blame.

In short, she had to be the ultimate simp. To the point of no return.

Others who were given these tasks usually broke down from the unbearable humiliation. Nine out of ten quit halfway and collapsed the plot.

But not Lu Hui.

She endured it all, again and again, licking the male leads’ boots so pathetically that even the audience would cry. She had only one reason—she wanted to live.

System: “Though the system will miss the lovely times we had, it’s finally time to say goodbye, sob sob sob.”

Lu Hui: “Oh.”

Screw your joy.

System: “Boohoo, Host, don’t you have anything to say to me?”

Lu Hui thought for a moment and spat out two words, “I do.”

System: “Wuwuwu, I knew it, Host, you couldn’t possibly bear to leave me…”

Lu Hui: “Get lost.”

Get lost, now.

The farther, the better.

The system whimpered pitifully once, then fell completely silent.

Lu Hui took a deep breath. She hadn’t stood in the sun like this in a long time. She closed her eyes, then slowly opened them again. A gentle breeze brushed across her face, and willow branches swayed lightly in the spring wind.

The experiences she had inside the system—those different worlds—only lasted a month in real life.

Lu Hui’s chest still felt a little tight. Maybe she’d gotten too deep into the emotions of those characters. Even now, the post-drama withdrawal hit hard, leaving her feeling down and drained.

But really, no one would be fine after being stabbed by the man they loved.

Lu Hui let out a long exhale, walked to the side of the road, and hailed a cab back to her rented apartment. She stuffed the hospital’s terminal diagnosis into a drawer, then pulled out her bank card to check her balance.

Between two CCB savings cards, she had just over 5,000 yuan.

Lu Hui sighed deeply, almost moved to tears by her own poverty.

Her phone suddenly buzzed on the desk, the screen lighting up with an incoming call.

She answered. The assistant director’s voice was casual and a bit lazy. “Xiao Hui, there’s a minor featured role in the crew right now, some close-up shots. You’ve been blacklisted recently, right? No gigs to shoot. Want to give it a try?”

Lu Hui answered without hesitation, “Yes.”

She’d met this assistant director back in college, during summer break when she worked as an extra in Hengdian—playing a corpse, no less.

The assistant director didn’t beat around the bush. “I’ll send you the time, location, and script later. Don’t be late.”

“Got it.”

“It’s a one-day feature role, one thousand yuan.”

“Deal.”

Soon after, he sent the script to her WeChat. Lu Hui flipped through it—her role was a cannon fodder concubine with seven or eight lines, the kind who dies in episode one.

As a twenty-eighth-tier actress in the entertainment industry, Lu Hui had a sliver of name recognition at best, but she didn’t care about scripts or roles. As long as she had work, she was content.

The next morning, Lu Hui gritted her teeth and took a taxi to the set.

Outside the filming location, fans of the male and female leads were already organized, banners lining both sides of the road, loyal supporters braving the cold wind.

Lu Hui put on her mask, trying to sneak in through the front entrance, but no luck—some sharp-eyed fans spotted her anyway.

“Lu Hui! You disgusting woman with no morals!”

“……”

Lu Hui couldn’t believe it. Even a washed-up celeb like her was still getting hate? Isn’t this kind of public flogging reserved for A-listers?

Clearly, the assistant director wasn’t lying—she was still a rat scurrying across the street, and everyone was out to kill her.

“How do you even have the nerve to show up on set? Homewrecker like you deserves to rot!”

“Knocking on a male actor’s door in the middle of the night to harass him—what, did your mom never teach you shame?”

The male lead’s fans got more and more riled up. They crossed the line set up by staff and surged in from the support trucks.

Even though they had the numbers, Lu Hui had seen her fair share of crazy scenes. She let out a dry chuckle, “You’ve got the wrong person.”

“?”

“I’m not Lu Hui. I’m her younger sister, Lu Xing.”

“??”

The crowd blinked. Huh? That’s allowed?

Lu Hui hesitated for a few seconds, then added, “Also, let’s all keep things civil, okay? Attack the person, not their mom. Thank you, and goodbye.”

All those girls were left with synchronized ellipses over their heads. Suddenly, no one knew if they should keep shouting. Why did it feel like their momentum just vanished? That’s not how this was supposed to go.

As soon as Lu Hui finished, she bolted like she had wind and fire wheels on her feet. Once inside the set, she finally got a moment to breathe.

Her current status—getting hate from fans in small waves—was mostly her lovely brother’s fault.

Sheng Zhaoming’s little fling was a popular influencer with millions of followers. The woman had been throwing shady posts on Weibo, implying Lu Hui seduced her boyfriend, dragging Lu Hui’s reputation through the mud with false rumors—like her knocking on some male idol’s door in the middle of the night to sleep her way to the top. The narrative took off.

That got her, a totally irrelevant D-list celeb, blacklisted by multiple fandoms for months.

Lu Hui could tolerate her Sheng family relatives, but not some random influencer running her mouth. So she grabbed the woman by the hair and got into a proper catfight.

And then she couldn’t hold back and explained on Weibo that she was Sheng Zhaoming’s sister.

To which Sheng Zhaoming responded with a public slap in the face: “She’s not. I don’t have a sister.”

Since then, her reputation hit rock bottom and started digging.

“Lu Hui, are you stupid? The director’s calling you!”

She snapped out of it, raising her bright, charming face. “On my way!”

The director gave her a once-over, not saying whether he was satisfied or not. “Go get changed.”

Lu Hui replied, “Okay.”

She put on the costume of a concubine and walked a round for the director again. This time, he gave her a look of approval and nodded. “Not bad.”

“Thank you, Director.”

Lu Hui did look stunning in full costume. Her features were already strong, and with makeup, she gained a deadly, dazzling beauty that could wreck nations.

Her scene was with the male and female leads.

Once the director shouted “action,” Lu Hui slipped right into character.

She lifted her chin slightly, eyes haughty and disdainful. “You’re the one who served His Majesty last night? Ye Zhaorong? Hmph, nothing special.”

The female lead, looking delicate and pale as a spring willow in the wind, grew furious.

Lu Hui barked, “I’m speaking to you—are you deaf? Such audacity!”

Her posture and expressions perfectly captured the overbearing and arrogant vibe. The director, watching from behind the monitor, let out a surprised “huh.” This girl was unexpectedly good—seemed like she had a real knack for acting.

The female lead lowered her head in a formal greeting. “Peace to you, Your Grace.”

Lu Hui let out a cold snort. “Today, I’ll teach you some manners on behalf of His Majesty. Stay right here and keep kneeling.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, it was time for the male lead to make his entrance.

The classic trope: the hero flies into a rage for the sake of beauty. You hurt my beloved concubine—how could I not slap you? He raised his hand and gave her a slap. “Someone drag her away. Send her to the Cold Palace.”

Lu Hui had dodged just in time—what a performance.

The slap didn’t actually land on her at all.

The director called cut, and the scene was passed. After wrapping up, the male and female leads were immediately surrounded by their respective assistants—some holding umbrellas, some offering water, some helping with makeup removal—not missing a beat.

Lu Hui received her payment via a transfer from the assistant director and was about to grab her bag and leave, only to realize the bag she had left on a lounge chair was gone.

The female lead was now sitting in that exact chair, removing her makeup. Lu Hui walked over and asked politely, “Excuse me, have you seen my bag?”

The female lead didn’t even glance at her. Her assistant acted as if Lu Hui were invisible.

Alright then.

Lu Hui took a deep breath, then suddenly raised her voice several notches. “Excuse me! Have you seen my bag?”

Her voice rang out loud and clear, shaking the air. Everyone around paused and turned to look.

The female lead and her assistant were startled. The assistant raised her chin arrogantly. “Who even are you? Lost your bag and can’t look for it yourself? Freak.”

“I left it on this chair.”

“So what?”

“Okay,” Lu Hui said calmly. After facing life and death, she no longer cared about trivial things—but that didn’t mean she’d take any more crap. “I’ll post on Weibo right now saying you stole my bag.”

Barefoot people aren’t afraid of those wearing shoes.

The shameless aren’t scared of those who care about saving face.

The assistant’s expression changed at once. Flustered, she rummaged through the corner of the set, pulled out the bag, and tossed it at Lu Hui. “Who wants your bag? Take a look at yourself.”

She was, admittedly, quite pretty.

But with that much dirt on her, there was no hope of becoming popular. Anyone on set could walk all over her.

Lu Hui caught her bag and turned away with style.

As she walked out the front gate, a luxury car pulled up, flanked by two lines of black-suited bodyguards. Clearly, the man in the car was someone important.

The car window rolled down halfway, and Lu Hui caught a fleeting glimpse of the lower half of the man’s face. She froze for a couple of seconds.

Pointing at the car’s rear, she casually asked a crew member nearby, “Hey, who was that?”

The crew member replied, “You don’t know? That’s the behind-the-scenes boss of Xingchen Entertainment and the new CEO of the AS Group.”

“…”

Lu Hui: Shit!

Why did that CEO look kinda like the scumbag male lead who asked her to donate a kidney to his beloved white moonlight?

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