Transmissão ao Vivo: Toda a Indústria do Entretenimento Chinesa Compete para Me Pagar para Ficar em Silêncio

A sharp slap rang out, followed by Fang Le’s curses.

“Wen Miaohan, can you wake up and recognize your place? You’re not some wealthy young lady anymore!”

The people in the studio were so used to this that they kept working without even lifting their heads, not the least bit startled.

But Wen Miaohan, who had been slapped the moment she opened her eyes, was utterly stunned.

The next second, she slapped back without hesitation.

How could a famous author like her endure such humiliation?

And then she understood exactly what her situation was.

She had gone from the one who wrote the story to the regret-filled heroine in her own book. Good heavens.

The reason Wen Miaohan was so shaken was that, before crossing over, every protagonist she wrote was all-powerful on the surface yet a hopeless weakling at heart. This drove readers to hurl abuse in the comments, cursing her ancestors for eighteen generations, yet the royalties kept soaring.

She was also someone who knew how to ride a wave of popularity. Seeing how resentful the readers were, she simply used her own name for the protagonist of a new book, thinking that when readers saw it, they would feel vindicated, and the royalties might rise even higher. A perfect win-win.

Sure enough, once the new book was released, the readers felt thoroughly satisfied, and the royalties were impressive too.

But the ending was that she herself had entered the book.

Truly, she had the fate to earn money, but not the fate to spend it.

Damn it!

Just as Wen Miaoha