Entertainment: Who Said That the Golden Supporting Role Cannot Become the Top Stream

4: The Self-cultivation of a ”Dead” ExtraEarly the next morning, Lin Da, pulling the still sleepy Zhou Xingxing, rushed to the set of ”Jianghu Xiaoxiami.”

This was a simple outdoor location on the edge of the film and television city, with a few so-called ”bandit strongholds” temporarily built from wooden planks, standing crookedly, and a bare hillside as the backdrop. The air was filled with a mix of dust and horse manure, and occasionally, the clanging noise from the props department could be heard.

”So this is where they film?” Zhou Xingxing looked around curiously, his eyes showing both novelty and a hint of unconcealed disappointment. ”It’s... a bit shabbier than I imagined.”

Lin Da patted his shoulder and laughed, ”A tall building starts from the ground up. Don’t underestimate small crews like this. Maybe future great directors and big stars will emerge from here.”

His words were half comfort, half emotion (sigh of emotion). In his previous life, he had also started from such an inconspicuous set, climbing up step by step.

The crew was already busy. Lighting technicians were adjusting equipment, cinematographers were checking cameras, and production assistants were shouting loudly, directing extras to change costumes and collect props.

Lin Da immediately spotted that familiar figure—Assistant Director Director Wang, holding a large megaphone, spitting as he reprimanded several late extras.

”What time is it, and you’re just showing up? Do you think you’re big shots? If you don’t want to work, get out now!” Director Wang’s voice was loud and full of vigor, but the sweat on his forehead betrayed his inner anxiety.

For a low-budget web drama, time was money; everything had to be rushed.

Lin Da didn’t rush forward but pulled Zhou Xingxing to an out-of-the-way corner and observed quietly.

He carefully studied the director’s staging methods, the main actors’ performance habits, and even the cinematographer’s camera movement style. The experience accumulated in his previous life made him like a precise radar, quickly capturing all effective information on the set.

”Know yourself and your enemy, and you will never be defeated,” Lin Da murmured to himself. Even if he was just an extra, he wanted to be prepared.

Soon, it was time for the extras to go on set. Today’s scene was about a bandit stronghold being breached by the protagonist’s group, with the henchmen scattering or being killed.

Lin Da and Zhou Xingxing also received their ”equipment”—coarsely made burlap clothes and a chipped wooden knife. Zhou Xingxing’s role was even worse; he didn’t even have a wooden knife because he was playing a ”thoroughly dead” corpse.

”Lin Da, for my corpse, do you think it would have more dramatic tension if I die with my eyes open or closed?” Zhou Xingxing asked in a low voice, with a hint of eagerness on his face.

Lin Da almost burst out laughing; this kid was truly thinking about acting all the time.

”First, think about how you died? Was it a fatal stab, or did you die from poison? What was your last emotion before death? Was it fear, unwillingness, or relief?” Lin Da patiently guided him.

Zhou Xingxing, hearing this, indeed fell into deep thought, mumbling to himself and starting to gesticulate.

Lin Da smiled with satisfaction and turned his gaze to the ”bandits” who were about to ”die.”

Most of these extras were local villagers or idle young people, and their only concept of acting was ”getting paid for the job.”

When the director shouted ”Ready,” they lazily got into position.

When the director shouted ”Action,” they would yell and charge forward, or symbolically wave their weapons a few times, then, as pre-arranged, fall to the ground with an exaggerated ”Ah!” Their movements were perfunctory, their expressions numb, as if they were merely completing a tedious physical labor.

Director Wang watched from the side, frowning, his voice through the megaphone filled with impatience:

”Hey, you! I’m talking to you! Can you die a bit more professionally? Did you get stabbed or fall asleep?”

”And you! Can you show some panic when you run? The stronghold is being attacked, and you’re strolling around like you’re in your own backyard!”

”Cut! Cut! Cut! What a bunch of nonsense!”

Director Wang was so angry he threw his hat on the ground. Nine out of ten of the extras under him were just making up the numbers, and one was there to cause trouble.

Lin Da observed all of this, but his heart grew calmer.

The perfunctoriness of others would only highlight his seriousness. The director’s dissatisfaction also meant he had a latent need for ”dramatic” performances.

Opportunities often lay hidden in these unintentional details.

Finally, it was time for Bandit A, played by Lin Da, to appear. According to the script, he was to block in front of a small leader when the protagonist struck with a sword, then be impaled through the throat and die on the spot.

There was only one line: ”Brother, be careful!”

It couldn’t be simpler.

After changing into his costume, Lin Da adjusted his appearance in a blurry bronze mirror (prop). The ”bandit” in the mirror had an ordinary face, but his eyes were unusually focused.

He began to rehearse in his mind.

How to portray the state of a bandit on the verge of death in those few short seconds?

Not too exaggerated, or it would seem fake; not too bland, or it wouldn’t attract attention.

He wanted to portray fear, but not just fear. A bandit, living by the sword, might have long anticipated death, but at the moment death truly arrived, the instinct for survival would still take over.

He wanted to portray loyalty, but this loyalty also carried a hint of ignorance. Dying for a small leader who wasn’t worth serving inherently carried a tragic color.

He also wanted to portray... a ”highlight” fitting for this minor character’s identity.

In Lin Da’s mind, countless small roles he had played in his previous life flashed by, those experiences flowing like trickles into his current creation. At the same time, some basic theories from the ”Acting Introduction Guidebook” provided a framework for his performance.

He repeatedly adjusted his breathing, his gaze, and even every subtle muscle tremor.

Zhou Xingxing, observing from the side, was a bit stunned. He noticed that when Lin Da was preparing, his whole demeanor changed, as if he had truly become a bandit facing death, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

”Lin Da, are you... are you okay?” Zhou Xingxing asked in a low voice, feeling that Lin Da was a bit ”too deep into character.”

Lin Da gestured ”shhh” to him, a mysterious smile appearing on his lips.

”Bandit A! Your turn! Hurry up!” The production assistant urged from over there.

Lin Da took a deep breath, his eyes suddenly becoming sharp and desperate.

He walked to his designated position and stood ready. The actor playing the small leader was also in place, impatiently tapping his leg. The young actor playing the protagonist held a long sword, his face cold.

Director Wang put his hat back on, picked up the large megaphone, and weakly shouted, ”Attention, all departments! Ready—”

The set instantly fell silent, everyone’s gaze focused on this small area.

Lin Da lowered his head slightly, building his emotions to the extreme.

He could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, thump, thump.

He knew this was his stage, even if only for a few short seconds.

Director Wang glanced at the set, saw that everyone was almost ready, took a deep breath, and suddenly raised the megaphone to his mouth, shouting with all his might:

”Action!”