The rain that morning felt colder than usual.
Not the kind of cold that seeped through jackets and sweaters, but the kind that settled quietly inside a person's chest—heavy, dull, and stubborn.
Jin Taoran stood outside Studio Gate Three with a plastic badge hanging from his neck.
EXTRA ACTOR — TEMPORARY PASS
The words were slightly smudged from the drizzle.
He stared at them for a moment before letting out a quiet breath.
Five years.
Five years in the entertainment industry, and the only title he had ever held was extra.
He pushed open the metal gate and stepped into the massive film studio compound.
Inside, the world was already alive with activity.
Crew members ran back and forth carrying lighting equipment. Assistants shouted instructions into headsets. Makeup artists hurried past with rolling carts filled with cosmetics.
Actors walked by in elegant costumes.
Heroes.
Generals.
Princes.
Villains.
Characters who would dominate screens across the country.
And Jin Taoran?
He was the man who would stand in the background holding a spear.
Or walk past the camera carrying a basket.
Or lie dead on the ground for two seconds before the scene cuts.
Sometimes he didn't even appear clearly enough for his mother to recognize him on television.
Still, he kept coming back.
Because acting wasn't just a job for him.
It was the only dream he had ever refused to abandon.
-------------------------
"Hey, you."
A sharp voice cut through his thoughts.
Jin Taoran turned.
A production assistant wearing a bright orange vest was pointing at him impatiently.
"You're late."
"I'm not," Jin Taoran said calmly. "Call time was six."
The assistant glanced at his watch.
It was 5:57.
"...Fine. Whatever."
He tossed Jin Taoran a wooden prop spear.
"Battle scene today. You're corpse number twelve."
Jin Taoran caught the spear automatically.
Corpse number twelve.
He nodded.
"Understood."
The assistant had already turned away.
To the crew, extras weren't people.
They were numbers.
---------------------------
The filming location had been set up as an ancient battlefield.
Fake dust covered the ground. Broken shields and weapons were scattered everywhere.
Smoke machines pumped thin gray mist across the field to create a war-torn atmosphere.
Jin Taoran walked to the edge of the set where several other extras were changing into armor.
Cheap armor.
Plastic.
Light enough to run in.
One of the extras glanced at him.
"First time here?"
Jin Taoran shook his head.
"No."
The man chuckled.
"You've got the quiet type look. Thought you were new."
Jin Taoran didn't reply.
He picked up the costume labeled 12 and began putting it on.
The armor smelled faintly like sweat.
Hundreds of extras had probably worn it before him.
--------------------------
An hour later, filming began.
The real actors arrived.
The male lead, Zhao Mingyu, stepped onto the battlefield set wearing elegant black armor.
Assistants rushed around adjusting his costume.
Fans waiting outside the studio screamed when they caught sight of him.
"Zhao Mingyu!!"
"Oppa!!"
He waved casually.
Like a king acknowledging his subjects.
Jin Taoran watched silently from the ground.
In this scene, Zhao Mingyu's character would walk through the battlefield after the war.
Dead soldiers would lie everywhere.
Those soldiers were the extras.
Including Jin Taoran.
-------------------------
"Positions!" the director shouted.
Extras dropped to the ground one by one.
Jin Taoran lay on his back near the center of the field.
Fake blood had been painted across his chest.
The sky above the studio roof looked pale and distant.
The assistant director raised a megaphone.
"Quiet on set!"
Everything fell silent.
The cameras began rolling.
The director's voice echoed across the battlefield.
"Action!"
---------------------------
Footsteps approached.
Heavy armor scraping against the ground.
Zhao Mingyu slowly walked through the field of corpses.
His expression was cold.
Victorious.
Powerful.
He stopped near Jin Taoran's body.
For two seconds, the camera framed the scene.
The hero standing above the fallen soldier.
Jin Taoran remained perfectly still.
He controlled his breathing.
Even though he was only an extra, he treated every moment seriously.
Because for him, acting wasn't about fame.
It was about truth.
For those two seconds, he imagined himself as a real soldier.
A man who had fought desperately in a losing war.
A man who had watched his comrades die.
A man whose last sight was the enemy general standing above him.
His chest tightened slightly.
The emotion came naturally.
Not forced.
Just quiet understanding.
Then—
"Cut!"
The director frowned.
"Something feels off."
The crew looked confused.
Zhao Mingyu crossed his arms impatiently.
"What now?"
The director pointed toward Jin Taoran.
"That extra."
Jin Taoran blinked and sat up.
"Yes, Director?"
The director stared at him.
For a moment, the entire set was quiet.
Then the director said something strange.
"...Why does that corpse look more convincing than the lead actor?"
The crew burst into laughter.
Zhao Mingyu's face darkened.
Jin Taoran quickly lowered his head.
"Sorry, Director."
The director waved his hand.
"No, no. You're fine."
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Actually... that expression you had just now was interesting."
He glanced at the assistant director.
"Which agency is he from?"
The assistant checked a clipboard.
"Uh... no agency. Independent extra."
The director sighed.
"Of course."
Talented unknown actors were everywhere.
But without connections, talent rarely mattered.
He turned away.
"Reset the scene."
--------------------------
Filming continued for another six hours.
By the time it ended, the sun had already begun to set.
Jin Taoran removed the plastic armor and returned it to the costume rack.
His payment for the day was 200 yuan.
Just enough to cover rent and cheap food.
He tucked the envelope into his bag and left the studio quietly.
No fans.
No assistants.
No cameras.
Just a young man walking home alone through the evening streets.
---------------------------
The subway station was crowded.
Office workers.
Students.
Couples holding hands.
Jin Taoran stood near the train door, staring at his reflection in the dark window.
He was handsome.
Sharp features.
Clear eyes.
A face that looked good on camera.
Several directors had even told him that before.
But in the entertainment industry, handsome faces were the cheapest commodity.
What mattered were connections.
Powerful agencies.
Wealthy sponsors.
Influential families.
Things Jin Taoran had none of.
His phone buzzed suddenly.
A message from his agency.
He frowned.
The agency that signed him barely contacted him anymore.
He opened the message.
And his world quietly collapsed.
---------------------------
TRENDING NEWS
Rookie Actor Jin Taoran Accused of Assaulting Female Staff Member.
Attached below the headline was a blurry photo.
A photo of Jin Taoran standing near a crying woman.
The article continued.
"According to anonymous sources, minor actor Jin Taoran attacked a female staff member during filming..."
"...the victim is reportedly traumatized..."
"...industry insiders are calling for a blacklist..."
Jin Taoran's hands trembled slightly.
He knew the woman in the photo.
She had tripped earlier that day near the equipment trucks.
He had simply helped her stand up.
Someone had taken the picture from the wrong angle.
And now—
His phone buzzed again.
Another message from the agency.
Just two cold sentences.
You are responsible for this scandal.
Your contract is terminated effective immediately.
---------------------------
The subway train roared through the tunnel.
Passengers around him continued chatting and scrolling through their phones.
No one noticed the quiet young man standing by the door.
Jin Taoran read the message again.
Then again.
His career.
Five years of struggle.
Destroyed in less than ten minutes.
Not even a phone call.
Not even an explanation.
Just discarded like trash.
---------------------------
The train doors opened.
People pushed past him.
Jin Taoran stepped onto the platform slowly.
Outside the station, night had already fallen.
Rain had started again.
Cold drops slid down his hair and coat.
His phone kept buzzing with notifications.
Online comments were exploding.
"Disgusting."
"Another fake celebrity."
"Blacklist him."
"No wonder he never became famous."
Jin Taoran turned off the screen.
He stood alone beneath the streetlight for a long time.
Then he laughed softly.
Not bitter.
Just tired.
"So this is how it ends."
Five years.
Thousands of auditions.
Hundreds of minor roles.
All erased.
Just like that.
--------------------------
He began walking through the rain.
The streets were quiet.
Water reflected the glow of neon lights from nearby buildings.
A huge digital billboard suddenly lit up above the road.
An advertisement for the upcoming Golden Crane Film Awards.
The face on the screen was familiar.
Lu Cheng.
The most famous actor in the country.
Elegant.
Untouchable.
Winner of three international acting awards.
A man standing at the absolute peak of the industry.
Jin Taoran stopped walking.
For a moment, he simply stared at the screen.
Two actors.
Two completely different worlds.
Then the traffic light changed.
A loud horn blasted.
Headlights exploded across his vision—
And everything went dark.
---------------------------
Somewhere far away…
A mechanical voice echoed through the silence.
System initializing.
Actor System activated.
Host detected: Jin Taoran.
Welcome to your second chance.