Huayu: I really am a genuine top star.

Chapter 82 is brilliant, truly brilliant.

"Wow... there's even a master... awesome!"

Shen Li was amazed. This wasn't just a group of extras; it was practically a "survival intelligence center for the film and television city"!

There were whistleblowers, fortune tellers, lunchbox reviewers, and even someone who dealt with harassment from assistant directors... More than 400 people, with clear division of labor and each performing their duties, it was a miniature version of the martial arts world.

He continued scrolling down and discovered an even more subtle phenomenon.

After 1 a.m., the atmosphere in the group changes.

Those who were scrambling for gigs, flattering others, and sending photos begging to be selected during the day have all disappeared. There aren't many people left, but the content of their conversations is completely different.

"During today's fight scene, the wire work almost broke my back. I couldn't even turn over in bed."

"That's nothing. Last week I played a dead body, lying on the ground for four hours. When the director yelled 'cut,' my legs were numb and I couldn't stand up. The crew thought I was really dead."

"You men are alright. I played a maid today and stood for eight hours. The soles of those embroidered shoes were as thin as paper, and I got two blisters on the soles of my feet. When I got back to the dorm, the blisters had burst, and my socks were stuck to my skin."

"Girl, put the band-aid horizontally, not vertically. If you put it vertically, it will rub against your skin when you walk."

"Thanks, bro."

Shen Li read through the entries one by one, growing more and more silent with each reading.

The group that was as lively as a vegetable market during the day turned into a "wounded camp" for a group of working-class people late at night.

No emojis, no flattery, no "Sister Hua is the most beautiful" or "Brother Jian is mighty." Only back pain, blisters on the feet, lunchboxes that are too salty, and having to get up early tomorrow.

A user with the ID "Old Hengdian Drifter" sent a voice message. Shen Li clicked on it, and it was a hoarse middle-aged male voice.

"Newcomers, remember this: being an extra is a job that takes your youth and leaves you with a lot of injuries. If you can climb up, climb up quickly; if you can't, change careers as soon as possible. Don't end up like me, playing a nobody for six years."

There was a long silence before someone replied: "Hey bro, what's up with you today? Got too much to drink?"

"Old Hengdian drifter" replied with a voice message, his voice even hoarser: "I didn't drink. I ran into myself from six years ago on set today. No, it was the brother who ran with me on set six years ago. We were squatting in the corner eating boxed lunches. He looked up at me, and I looked up at him. Neither of us said a word. The boxed lunches were scrambled eggs with tomatoes, and the eggs were only two yuan."

The silence in the group lasted even longer.

Then "Sister Dong" popped up. At 1:30 a.m., this group leader, known for her lunchbox reviews and dogtail grass, sent a message.

"@Old Hengdian drifter, we need a manager for the Republican-era play in Zone C tomorrow. I have a line, 300 yuan. You come. I've tried the boxed lunch, the braised pork was stewed until it was mushy."

The veteran Hengdian drifter replied with a single word: "Come."

Shen Li stared at the three messages, her throat tightening slightly.

Sister Dong's post, "I've tried the boxed lunches," seemed down-to-earth during the day, but a different flavor emerged when viewed late at night... She truly considers these people as her own.

They're not just "one of us" in words; they're the kind of people who are still helping others find work at 1:30 in the morning, who remember who's in a bad mood, and who even remember whether the braised pork in the boxed lunch is tender or not.

Shen Li added a label to Sister Dong: staying up late at night, guarding the group chat, guarding the people who make a living from her.

Shen Li then left the extras group and swiped her finger to enter the "Beijing Special Actor Exchange Group".

Goodness, this scene is from a completely different world than the group of extras.

The extras were like a vegetable market... shouting, haggling, trying to get close to people, sending voice messages, it was as lively as a temple fair.

What about the special guests group? It's like a waiting area in a high-end club—quiet, restrained, and everyone is putting on airs.

Shen Li first looked at the group members. 127 people. The group owner's ID was "Old Song Casting", and his profile picture was a cup of covered tea, making him look like a meticulous person.

There are three administrators, with IDs "Director Zhou's Assistant", "Sister Han's Casting", and "Old Liu from Chaoyang". Just looking at this setup, it's more professional than the extras group.

He clicked on the group announcement; the content was extremely concise…

This is a group for casting call notifications; entry requires approval. Notifications are updated daily. Interested individuals should privately send their model card, a self-introduction video, and clips of recent work to the person posting the notification. No response within three days indicates rejection. Casual chatting and adding friends privately are prohibited; violators will be removed.

Even the punctuation marks exude a cold, "Don't try to get close to me" vibe.

Shen Li clicked her tongue and began scrolling through today's chat history. There weren't many messages, only about twenty from morning till night, and each one was an announcement.

The sequel to "The Longest Day in Chang'an" needs three extras to play palace guards. Requirements: Male, 25-35 years old, rugged appearance, experience in action scenes. Daily wage 600 RMB, three consecutive days of filming. Send your application materials to me.

The announcement was posted by the administrator "Director Zhou's Assistant," whose profile picture is a silhouette of a clapperboard. There were no replies. Not a single one.

Shen Li was stunned for a moment, then realized... This was a private chat system. All registrations were done privately. The group chat was completely silent, and no one knew how fierce the competition was.

High, really high.

The practice of extras openly bidding for jobs may seem exciting, but it actually makes it easy for them to be intercepted or targeted by middlemen.

This "sealed bidding" model in special groups protects the privacy of actors and gives the casting party absolute control.

He flipped down again.

The modern urban drama "That's Not Love" is seeking a featured extra to play a company HR representative. Requirements: Female, 30-40 years old, capable and professional. Daily pay: 500 RMB. Send your resume to me.

The announcement was posted by "Han Jie Casting," whose profile picture is a white lotus flower.

Shen Li clicked into her WeChat Moments, and wow, the screen was full of work photos with captions like "Makeup fitting today," "Filming starts tomorrow," and "Congratulations on wrapping up filming."

Occasionally, a selfie is interspersed... A woman in her forties, well-maintained, with exquisite makeup, and gentle yet sharp eyes.

The caption was extremely professional: "Twelve people were interviewed today, and three were selected. Keep up the good work, everyone." "An actor asked me why they didn't pass? Because your model card is from three years ago, and there's a huge difference between you and the photo. Updating your information is part of professionalism."

The comments section was filled with messages like "Thank you for your hard work, Sister Han," "Thank you for your guidance, Sister Han," and "Sister Han, I've updated the model cards, please take a look."

Shen Li labeled Han Jie as a professional casting director who is gentle yet strict and values ​​actors' "professional attitude".

Countermeasures: When sending her materials in the future, the template cards must be the latest, and the self-introduction videos must be customized for the role. Don't try to fool her with generic versions.

The fantasy drama "Sword Soul, Qin Heart" is seeking two extras to play a senior and junior disciple in a martial arts sect. Requirements: Male 22-28 years old, Female 20-25 years old, with an elegant appearance and experience in period dramas. Daily pay: 550 RMB per person. Preference will be given to candidates with action scene experience. Please send your resume to me.

The announcement was posted by the group admin, "Old Song Casting." Shen Li perked up and quickly clicked into Old Song's WeChat Moments.

Then he froze.

Old Song's WeChat Moments are full of food photos.

Not the kind of sophisticated food photography, but rather casual snapshots... Jianbing Guozi from a roadside stall, braised pork in a film crew's lunchbox, hot pot after work late at night, soy milk and fried dough sticks at four in the morning.