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

1: The dream of becoming an actor is shattered, and he returns to his youth / The last regretThe smell of disinfectant was the clearest footnote in Lin Da’s last memories of his life.

He lay on the sickbed, so thin that he was just a bag of bones, his cloudy eyes staring at the ceiling, where a kaleidoscope of his life seemed to be playing out.

Was it glorious?

Perhaps.

In his fifty years in the industry, he had played hundreds of roles, big and small, from loyal and righteous heroes to despicable villains, from street vendors to emperors and generals. He had a good audience appeal, and his reputation in the industry was not bad. Everyone respectfully called him “Da Shu”, and the title of “golden supporting role system” was well-known.

It’s just that a supporting role is, after all, a supporting role.

His whole life seemed to be spent making wedding dresses for others. The spotlight always shone on the protagonist, and applause and flowers mostly brushed past him. In his youth, he was also high-spirited and once dreamed of one day holding the Best Actor trophy, which represented the highest honor, to prove to the world that a supporting role could also shine with a brilliance no less than that of a protagonist.

Unfortunately, it was a matter of time and fate.

On countless nights, he would caress those yellowed scripts, thinking of that talented, imaginative, yet sensitive and stubborn “Xing Zai”. They were once the best partners, creating countless classic screen images together. Those years of laughter, anger, scolding, and mutual loyalty were the most vivid colors in his memory.

“Lin Da, if only we could collaborate on another one…”

Xing Zai’s slightly hoarse and hopeful voice seemed to still be in his ears. But now, Xing Zai was already an internationally renowned director, and he, however, had to go first.

If… if there was an if…

He wanted to act again to his heart’s content, even if it was still a supporting role, as long as he could perform to the fullest.

He wanted to stand side by side with Xing Zai again, listen to him tell those outlandish jokes, and watch him strive for perfection for a single shot.

He also wanted… to win an Best Actor award once. Not for fame or fortune, but just to fulfill the burning dream of his youth, and to put a truly perfect end to his lifelong persistence.

His consciousness gradually blurred, and his breathing became faint.

“Da Shu, do you have any other wishes?” His assistant’s choked voice came from beside him.

Wishes… too many…

Lin Da’s lips moved a few times, but he couldn’t utter a single word. Endless regrets drowned him like a tide.

Darkness completely devoured him.

“Mmm…”

With a painful groan, Lin Da suddenly opened his eyes.

The dazzling sunlight made him instinctively squint his eyes. The smell lingering at the tip of his nose was no longer disinfectant, but a complex mixture of sweat and cheap boxed meals.

Shouldn’t he be in the hospital, his oil exhausted, waiting for death?

Lin Da shook his heavy head and struggled to prop himself up. What greeted his eyes was a narrow, crowded, dimly lit room. There was a dilapidated iron bunk bed, clothes casually discarded, and several instant noodle buckets piled in the corner.

Where was this?

He subconsciously raised his hand, wanting to rub his throbbing temples.

Wait!

This hand…

Lin Da’s pupils suddenly contracted.

The hand in front of him, although not delicate, was definitely not his own hand, covered with age spots and loose, dry skin! This hand had distinct joints and the vitality of a young person.

He trembled as he touched his face. His skin was firm, without a single wrinkle, and he could even feel some newly sprouted stubble on his chin, with a slight tingling sensation.

An absurd thought exploded in his mind.

He suddenly tumbled off the bed, stumbled a few steps, and rushed to the only stained mirror in the room.

In the mirror, there was a young man of about twenty years old. His face vaguely had the contours of his youth, but it was more immature, with a hint of confusion and… naive ambition in his eyes. He was wearing a faded T-shirt, his hair was messy, like a clueless young man who had just run out of some construction site.

“This… is this me?” Lin Da murmured in a lost voice, his voice hoarse, yet full of youthful clarity.

Memories flooded into his mind like a bursting dam.