Essa Celebridade é Maluca!

Chaoyang District, inside a sprawling apartment.

A young man, beautiful as a painting, lay upon a wicker chair on the balcony. His expression was tranquil and serene, as if devoid of all breath and vitality.

Beside his hand, upon a glass coffee table, was a letter weighed down beneath a paperweight. The final line of the letter read:

“No one loves me anymore, no one believes in me anymore. Farewell, world.”

Also on the table was an empty pill bottle. A gust of wind sent it rolling across the floor, spinning away until it struck the wall, rebounded, and ultimately came to rest.

Suddenly, the young man on the wicker chair opened his eyes without warning. Memories surged chaotically through his mind. He gazed around in shock and uncertainty, murmuring,

“Where am I?”

“Did I transmigrate?!”

As this realization dawned on Lin Yi, a wave of nausea swept over him. He bolted for the bathroom, clutching the toilet as he began to vomit violently. The retching was agonizing, and amidst the bile he spat out several half-digested pills, nearly emptying the contents of his stomach.

After more than ten minutes, he stood at the sink, rinsed his mouth, wiped his lips, and stared at the unfamiliar face in the mirror, confirming to himself:

It seems I really have transmigrated!

Wait, how did I get here?

A flash of pain crossed Lin Yi’s brow, but then he shook his head and chuckled mirthlessly, “I suppose they weren’t able to save me, were they?”

Well, what’s done is done. The past is best left in the past.

In