You Call This a Bit Part?

Chen Mo was a director in his previous life, the kind who worked himself to death.

When he opened his eyes again, he had transmigrated into the body of an obscure extra with the same name in a parallel world called Blue Star. No money, no fame, no future. He made a decision on the spot: this time around, he absolutely would not overwork himself. As long as he got enough boxed lunches, that was all he needed.

And so he coasted along for three years.

Then the apocalypse arrived.

The “Drama System” descended, forcing everyone to take on a role. Some became leads, some became supporting characters, and the remaining ninety-nine percent became cannon-fodder extras. If the script said you would die at a certain time, you really died then, not a second early or late.

Chen Mo glanced at his status panel. “The third customer to be bitten to death by a zombie. Time until death: 03:47.”

He had filmed seven horror movies in his previous life. He could work out the entire logic behind a zombie’s movements with his eyes closed. So he opened his mouth and shouted. The protagonist survived, and so did he. The System was dumbfounded.

From then on, a legend arose among the extras. There was a man called Teacher Chen who could turn any doomed scenario around, yet always appeared on the list of people “about to die.” And somehow, he never did.

The System wrote him a death sentence, and he crossed out the word “death.”

The System called him cannon fodder, and he played the role like a protagonist.

The System hid behind the scenes as the director. He simply stole its clapperboard.

Other survivors fought to stay alive in the instances.

Chen Mo directed the scenes.

Other extras waited to die.

Chen Mo waited for his boxed lunch.

“Abnormal behavioral pattern detected and recorded.”

“Then you’d better record all of it.”

No one else knew that the man squatting in the corner with his boxed lunch was using the most inconspicuous identity to expose the greatest secret of the entire apocalypse.