Chapter 1: The Dog Is Better Than the Male Lead

Lu Hui was the only unofficial staff member of the transmigration system who had received a full set of BE (Bad End) scripts.

When she retired, all her colleagues looked at her with eyes full of admiration, as if the words “You’re amazing” were written all over their faces.

Lu Hui also thought she was pretty amazing.

After all, in every transmigration mission, she was assigned the role of a supporting female character, a mere tool in the story. In every world, she loyally and humbly licked the male lead’s boots, enduring endless torment from them.

Terminal illness, kidney removal, being cast aside, having her heart cut out, being forced to take the blame for others—she went through it all.

It was practically a rewritten version of Les Misérables.

“Congratulations, Host, on successfully completing all missions of the ‘Supporting Character Who Dies a Miserable Death’ transmigration system and accumulating enough vitality points!”

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

The system replied in its usual irritating tone, “Yes! You’ve earned enough vitality points to exchange for a new life!”

Good. Great. Fantastic.

Honestly, it had been a painful journey. As absurd and melodramatic as it sounded, the reason Lu Hui agreed to take on those miserable supporting role missions from that insufferable system was simple—she had been diagnosed with a terminal illness.

The day she received her diagnosis, it felt like a multicolored lightning bolt had struck her out of nowhere, leaving her head spinning. Looking back on her twenty years of life, one word summed it up: miserable.

After her parents’ divorce, she followed her remarried mother into the wealthy Sheng family.

Since she was an unwanted burden, her mother almost failed to marry into the Sheng family because of her, so she always looked at Lu Hui with resentment, wishing she would disappear sooner.

Meanwhile, her stepfather already had a son and a daughter with his ex-wife. Her so-called brother and sister saw her and her mother as scheming outsiders and were never kind to her.

Under someone else’s roof, she had no choice but to keep her head down.

Every time she ran into Sheng family’s precious prince and princess, she did her best to stay invisible, never causing trouble. She even dared to dream of a close sibling bond, wishing for a harmonious relationship.

Her attempts to get close were downright pathetic.

Once, when her brother was drunk, Lu Hui kindly brought him some hangover medicine, only to be mocked coldly, “Are you deaf? Stay away from my room.”

At school, he made it even clearer: “Don’t tell anyone you know me. You’re not worthy.”

No matter what happened, she was always the one blamed first. Regardless of who was at fault, she was always the one in the wrong.

One time, her brother’s little girlfriend got upset over something trivial, and in retaliation, he shoved Lu Hui so hard that she hit the ground, cracking her head open. She lay there unconscious for hours. When she finally woke up in a daze, struggling to her feet, her hands came away covered in blood. That was the moment she finally woke up for real.

So, the moment she could, Lu Hui moved out of the Sheng family.

But before she could even enjoy her freedom, she was diagnosed with a terminal illness.

Lu Hui felt like the universe was playing a cruel joke on her.

And just then, the Sheng family’s young master, Sheng Zhaoming, condescended to call her.

“You’ve made your point, so cut it out already. Stop playing the ‘running away from home’ act. No one’s buying your hard-to-get routine.”

Under normal circumstances, Lu Hui wouldn’t have dared to hang up on him.

But she was dying.

And people about to die speak only the truth.

So she replied with just eight words: “Fuck your ‘hard-to-get’ routine.”

After cursing out the Sheng family’s golden boy, Lu Hui sat on a hospital bench, contemplating life.

That was when the system appeared, hitting her with three back-to-back questions:

“Do you want to live? Do you want to live? Do you want to live?”

It sounded as dumb as a pyramid scheme.

Lu Hui had no intention of responding—until…

The system laid out its missions and rewards.

And she was tempted.

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

She had to admit—the supporting character BE missions were absolute hell.

She had to pour all her emotions into them, live and die for the male lead, slam her head against walls for him, and serve as nothing more than a stepping stone for him and the female lead.

If he needed a kidney, she’d give it. If he needed a heart, she’d donate it. If he needed someone to take the blame, she’d gladly suffer for him.

In short—she had to be the ultimate bootlicker, the most devoted of devoted fools.

Other people who took on these missions would often rage-quit because they couldn’t stand the absurd levels of abuse. Nine out of ten would break character and ruin the storyline.

But not Lu Hui.

She powered through every single one, licking the male leads’ boots so earnestly that it brought tears to those who witnessed it.

Why?

Because she wanted to live.

Now, the system’s annoying voice returned:

“Although I’ll miss the wonderful time we spent together, it’s time for me to say goodbye! Boohoohoo.”

Lu Hui: “Oh.”

Oh, my ass.

The system sniffled, “Waaah! Don’t you have anything to say to me?”

Lu Hui thought for a moment before replying, “Yeah.”

The system perked up. “I knew it! You’re going to say you’ll miss me too!”

Lu Hui: “Get lost.”

The farther, the better.

The system whimpered one last time before finally falling silent.

Lu Hui took a deep breath.

Standing in the sunlight again after so long, she closed her eyes, then slowly opened them. The warm wind brushed against her face, and the willow branches swayed gently in the spring breeze.

In the real world, only a month had passed while she was stuck in those fictional worlds.

Her chest still felt a little tight, probably from immersing herself too deeply in the emotions of her roles. She was struggling to shake off the lingering pain.

After all, who wouldn’t feel awful after being stabbed by someone they loved?

Lu Hui let out a long sigh, walked to the roadside, hailed a cab, and returned to her rented apartment.

She stuffed her terminal diagnosis into the drawer, then checked her bank balance.

Her two savings accounts combined had a grand total of 5,000 yuan.

Lu Hui sighed so hard she nearly cried from how broke she was.

Just then, her phone vibrated.

She answered, and the assistant director’s lazy voice came through, “Xiao Hui, there’s a minor featured role with a close-up in our production. You’ve got no gigs right now since your reputation is in the gutter—want to give it a shot?”

Lu Hui made her decision instantly. “Yes.”