Strings

Jiang Yuxi's POV

"Pull some strings," she said.

"It'll be fine," she said.

I still can't believe it.

I'm not the lead. I'm not even second in line. But I matter in this film. I'm a minor antagonist in a major western action blockbuster.

The kind of production where the budget could fund an entire country for a year.The kind where names like Oscar-winning directors and A-list celebrities are thrown around like loose change.

I don't know how Han Li did it.

And honestly? I don't want to know.

The wind roars around me, salty and relentless, carrying the crash of waves far below.

The cliff beneath my boots is solid, but one misstep and I'd be swallowed whole by the ocean.

The drop is dizzying.

I force my breath to stay steady as the stunt team secures the last of the rigging around my waist.

> "Double-check the knots!" the head stunt coordinator shouts. "I don't want any mistakes!"

The rope tugs slightly as they test the tension.

From the adjacent cliff, cameras are stationed at multiple angles, lenses trained on me like snipers ready to fire.

The director, a man notorious for hating CGI-heavy action sequences, stands among them. Arms crossed. Jaw set.

He wants this shot real.

No green screens. No faked movements. Just me, gravity, and faith.

The back of my neck tingles.Even though I've trained for this moment, knowing I'm about to throw myself off a cliff is different than actually doing it.

I glance at the harness.

I trust the stunt crew.

I trust the rigging.

But at the end of the day… it's still me, alone, taking that leap.

Getting here was one thing.Staying here? That was a war.

When I arrived on set, everyone whispered.I was just another washed-up not known actress who "used connections" to land a role.

A pretty face. A former Film Empress from a country they didn't care about.

An outsider.

I could feel it in their gazes.

The quiet dismissal.

The fake smiles.

The director barely acknowledged my existence. My co-stars ignored me. The stunt team treated me like dead weight.

Like a spoiled celebrity playing pretend.

So I fought for it.

I trained longer.

Took every fall, every hit, every grueling stunt without complaint.

Bruised. Bled. Pushed past every single limit.

Because I refused to let them be right, I refused to let Han Li's investment in me be a mistake.

*

"You Sure About This?"

> "Alright, Jiang! Final check!"

A production assistant rushes over, adjusting the tiny mic hidden under my tactical suit. Another tightens the last buckle on my harness.

The stunt coordinator steps closer, eyes sharp.

> "You ready?"

I nod, exhaling.

> "Yeah."

His gaze lingers.

> "No shame in using the stunt double, you know."

I shake my head.

> "There is for me."

He laughs, shaking his head.

> "Actors are crazy."

> "That's what makes us good."

He pats my shoulder and steps back.

The assistant director gives a thumbs-up.

The director lifts his hand.

I take a breath, my pulse thundering.

> "AND—ACTION!"

I get into character immediately, my expression hardening.

The male lead stands across from me, gun in hand, sweat dripping down his brow.

> "There's no need for such drastic lengths. Where is the chip?"

My voice is low, edged with menace.My fingers toy with the two silver daggers strapped to my thighs.He responds with his lines. I smirk.

We fight.

It's a choreographed whirlwind.

Metal clashes. Dodges and counterattacks. My knives gleam under the setting sun.

Then—his backup arrives.

I glance over my shoulder. The moment they appear, I know I have seconds.

With no hesitation I run and sprint, the cliff edge rushes toward me.

I hear my heartbeat in my ears.

Then—

I leap.

For a single, breathless second—

I am weightless.

The wind screams past me.

The world tilts and blurs.

The ground disappears.

Then—

The harness catches.

A sharp jerk around my waist.

My descent slows just in time.

The rocky cliffside rushes toward me. I twist mid-air, tucking my body exactly as I was trained.

My feet slam into stone.

Too hard.

I stumble slightly but stay upright.

Then, the final moment—

I rip the fake blood pack from my chest, letting scarlet liquid splash onto the rocks.

Breathing hard, I tilt my chin up to the camera.

Eyes burning. Chest heaving. Smirking.

I raise my hand, holding up the tiny silver chip we were fighting for.

Then—I wink.

Silence.A heavy pause.

Then—

> "CUT!"

> "PERFECT!"

The camera crew. The director. Even the stunt team.

I exhale, heart still hammering.

The stunt coordinator reaches down, helping me up.

> "Not bad."

I grin.

*

By the time I stumble into my trailer, exhaustion crashes over me like a tidal wave.

I barely manage to shrug out of my harness before collapsing onto the makeshift bed.

Heavens.

I haven't felt this kind of adrenaline rush in years.

Not since my rookie days when I was still fighting for recognition.Back when I still felt… alive on screen.

Sure, I had roles. I even had awards.

But most of them were dramatic, sappy films.

The kind that looked good on paper.

The kind that used CGI for every action scene, or hired stunt doubles to do the real work.

But this? This was different,this was mine.

I close my eyes. A smile tugs at my lips.

A knock on the door.

> "Knock, knock."

The voice is unfamiliar.I glance up as a woman steps inside.

She's tall, dressed in a fitted black suit. Her eyes are sharp, her presence calculated.A tattoo peeks from the edge of her collar,not something decorative. Something old. Something dangerous.

Han Li's work, no doubt.

My new manager and bodyguard, I wonder what kind of job she had before this.

he steps forward with a quiet confidence.

The crew follows behind, ready to remove my makeup and change me into something more comfortable.