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... a fog lifting from his mind. At first, he couldn't comprehend anything—there was no light, no sound, just an overwhelming sense of confinement. It was soft and warm, yet restrictive. He couldn't stretch his limbs fully, and every movement felt sluggish, as though surrounded by a thick, viscous liquid.

"What... where am I?" he thought, his mind sluggish but increasingly alert.

Then it hit him: he wasn't floating in some ethereal void anymore. He was contained. His body—or whatever ...

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“Brother Zhong, I don’t want to shoot this drama anymore.” A well-known female star looked aggrieved.

“Why?” Yin Xiaozhong leaned back on the sofa with his legs crossed.

“That director always took advantage of me, and didn’t direct the filming well at all.” The female star lowered her head and said softly.

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