Damn It! The Main Shou Turned Me Gay! (Showbiz) - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: I Transmigrated Into a Book?

In the inpatient wing of a high-end private hospital in City A…

Sunlight streamed through the windows of the VIP room on the top floor, casting warm light by the bed.

Lying in the hospital bed was a serene-looking young man with slightly long, tousled hair, fast asleep.

The next second, Qi Wenyen abruptly opened his eyes, choking slightly on a sharp gasp of breath. He blinked in confusion.

Where was he?!

His throat was dry and parched. Without caring for manners, Qi Wenyen reached for the cup of cool water on the nightstand and took a few sips.

His mind was a complete mess. The cold sensation spreading from his throat helped calm him down slightly.

Qi Wenyen frowned and rubbed his chin.

His brain felt like a tattered, punctured piece of cloth—whatever memories surfaced seemed purely up to luck.

Could it be that he had lost his memory in some accident?

But before he could explore this seemingly logical guess any further, a line of text suddenly flashed through his mind—

Black characters on a white background, slightly blurry like the glow of a computer screen:

The pitiful little thing once coerced by the villainous screenwriter is no longer anyone’s prey.

Recalling the role he had schemed and fought so hard to land, …’s eyes darkened, and he sneered:

“Qi-writer, don’t blame me for having no mercy or sentiment.”

Qi Wenyen froze for two seconds.

What the hell?

Why was the protagonist’s name even censored?

Lines of text kept flashing in his mind, mostly about how this ellipsis-named protagonist got revenge on the villainous screenwriter who had once sexually exploited him.

Based on some inexplicable gut feeling and strange confidence, Qi Wenyen had a terrifying realization—

This situation was very similar to the legendary “transmigrating into a novel” scenario!

And worse—

He was also surnamed Qi.

But luckily, based on the faint scraps of memory he did have, he wasn’t a screenwriter.

Relieved, Qi Wenyen let out a long breath.

Freshly woken and assessing his surroundings, aside from the IV drip of glucose by the bed, he seemed to have not eaten anything.

Feeling the emptiness in his stomach, Qi Wenyen pressed the call button by the bed. He cleared his throat and spoke:

“Hello, I…”

BANG!

The hospital room door was flung open so violently it slammed against the wall with a loud crash.

Qi Wenyen nearly jumped out of his skin, his eyes wide in alarm as he stared at the intruder—

No, intruders.

Four or five men of various builds and heights squeezed into the room, all pushing and jostling to get in first.

Leading the pack was a muscular man with a floral tattoo and dark sunglasses. Strangely enough, this burly guy also had a hipster’s long braided ponytail, forming a sharp contrast with the refined-looking young man lying in bed.

The man yanked off his sunglasses, his eyes filled with concern as he rushed over and grabbed Qi Wenyen’s hand:

“Qi-writer, how are you feeling? Is your body any better? Still dizzy?!”

As soon as he spoke, the others chimed in with their heartfelt concern, jostling to get closer to the hospital bed.

But Qi Wenyen was still stuck on two words—

Qi. Writer.

It’s over. The cannon fodder… is me?!

The burly man didn’t realize what he’d said wrong. He watched the color drain from the brilliant screenwriter’s face and quickly hit the emergency call button:

“Doctor! Doctor, help! Our screenwriter doesn’t look good!”

Ten minutes later, only the burly man remained in the room. The others had been driven out by the nurses.

Qi Wenyen was still drowning in despair from the realization—“How am I the villain?!”—like a puppet drained of its soul, letting the doctor check his pupils without saying a word.

The burly man anxiously wrung his hands. “Doctor, what’s going on with our screenwriter? You said he was stable and could be discharged soon?”

The doctor put away his instruments and glanced at the curious faces peeking in from the hallway with disapproval:

“The patient’s condition is quite unusual. The concussion from the car accident likely caused memory issues. He may be experiencing cognitive confusion. His family should avoid triggering emotional stress.”

“Also…”

The doctor sighed. “The patient might keep recalling the last thing he saw before the accident. You mentioned he’s a screenwriter? Then at the very least, avoid mental exertion for the next month.”

The man nodded rapidly.

After giving some final instructions, the doctor left the room.

Qi Wenyen’s eyes slowly moved as he finally began to process things.

Deep breath.

He didn’t know why he was so ready to accept the idea of transmigrating into a book, but as the saying goes—“Since it’s happened, make peace with it.” With his easygoing personality, maybe this was heaven’s way of giving him a second chance!

Qi Wenyen’s eyes opened wide with renewed purpose, a strange light gleaming in them.

As long as he stayed far away from the protagonist and didn’t play the role of cannon fodder, with the wealth it must take to afford this VIP hospital room—couldn’t he go anywhere and live freely?

Having thought it through, Qi Wenyen immediately smiled warmly.

He turned to the burly man next to him, who was peeling an apple with a small knife, and asked gently:

“Sir, I think there’s something wrong with my head… May I ask who you are?”

The man froze for a couple of seconds, then his eyes turned red with emotion: “Qi-writer, you don’t even remember me?!”

Qi Wenyen frowned at the deep sorrow in the man’s voice. Did that mean they were really close?

After waking up, he had caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass.

He could confirm one thing—this guy definitely wasn’t a bl00d relative.

After some hesitation, Qi Wenyen asked honestly, “Are we… close?”

The man paused, then opened his photo album and handed over a picture: “I’m the director working on your new script—Li An.”

Qi Wenyen obediently looked at the photo a handsome young man in a suit (clearly himself) shaking hands with the artsy muscular man, with two contracts visible on the table beside them.

No doubt about it—the man beside his hospital bed was the director of the project, and his colleague.

Qi Wenyen silently tugged the corner of his mouth. If even amnesia couldn’t erase his memory of his coworkers, that would be ridiculous.

Either way—he had to get out of this film crew.

Forget the possibly homicidal protagonist who could show up any time—for someone with zero professional skills like him, how could he possibly fake being the lead screenwriter of a big production?

Decision made, Qi Wenyen lowered his eyelashes and said softly.

“Director Li, as you can see, I can’t even remember who you are. How could I go revise scripts on set?”

Li An looked troubled and sighed heavily.

Qi Wenyen added, “I’ve delayed the crew’s schedule and made you personally come to the hospital—I really feel terrible.”

Li An, dedicated to his craft but socially oblivious, missed all the subtle hints and just found this screenwriter so kind and considerate!

Qi Wenyen sneaked a glance at him, then clutched his chest and said regretfully:

“So I think it’s best for me to temporarily withdraw from the crew. You have so many talented people—things won’t fall apart without me!”

If the contract was already signed, the script was likely done and approved.

No way was he the only screenwriter. Surely the rest of the team could handle the revisions way better than a fraud like him.

Sure enough, Li An’s expression wavered after his little speech.

Qi Wenyen kept pushing: “The production is expensive. If I waste everyone’s time, I’d feel awful.”

Finally, Li An relented: “You’re right. But the investors care a lot about this script. If you quit, the company might not be able to explain it to them.”

Qi Wenyen coaxed, “It’s just a health break. I won’t abandon the team emotionally. This is still my story, and I won’t let it trouble you.”

What he really meant was once he’s discharged, he’ll disappear into some tranquil mountain village and vanish completely.

But to Li An, this sounded like: “I won’t be on set, but I’ll work remotely!”

His eyes lit up. “That’s a great idea, Qi-writer! It’s settled then!”

Qi Wenyen breathed a huge sigh of relief—just one more concern:

“With my condition, not being on-site won’t breach our contract, right?”

Li An waved it off: “No, no. You only sold us the script rights. You were just going to follow the shoot out of passion and our team’s requests.”

That was music to Qi Wenyen’s ears!

He faked a cough to cover the grin on his lips and casually changed the subject.

“By the way, those people in the hallway—are they part of our crew?”

Qi Wenyen was just making small talk, but he didn’t get an immediate answer. He looked up in confusion—

Only to see Li An snort coldly: “Those guys? They heard Qi-writer was hospitalized and came trying to snatch the rights to your next script!”

Qi Wenyen: “?”

If confusion could manifest physically, a giant question mark would be floating above his head.

Was that still Chinese?

What did he mean—heard he was hospitalized, so they rushed over to compete for a script he hadn’t even written yet?

Was he… a famous screenwriter in this world?

Qi Wenyen clicked his tongue. Even if “Qi-writer” was incredible, that had nothing to do with him! Those directors were a nuisance.

He turned serious and told Li An:

“Director Li, I suddenly feel unwell. In fact, I foresee I will remain unwell until I’m discharged.”

“So please let the directors in the hallway know—I hit my head, and I won’t be writing anything new anytime soon. They should give up on me.”

Li An interpreted this as the screenwriter simply wanting peace and quiet. After all, this genius had debuted with a script that became a hit drama—topping the charts, dominating social media even after the finale!

As the lucky director with rights to his second script, Li An felt confident in the show’s bright future and didn’t care at all about the others.

With Qi Wenyen’s blessing, he went out and delivered the news like a final death sentence.

Once Li An was gone, Qi Wenyen finally relaxed, collapsing onto the pillow like a salted fish.

There was a locked phone beside the bed. He had planned to check it before Li An burst in.

Qi Wenyen picked it up. The phone recognized his face and unlocked automatically.

A line of text appeared center screen:

Garden Road No. 153, Huanzhuyuan Area A, Unit 101.

It was a note edited five days ago.