In front of the bright floor-to-ceiling window stood a man with a tall, upright figure, gazing out at the forest of high-rises. A cigarette was pinched between the fingers of his hand, hanging by his side, its crimson ember glowing as it emitted wisps of smoke.

He lifted his hand to his lips, took a drag, and slowly exhaled the smoke, his narrow eyes squinting slightly, a hint of contemplation in his gaze.

Something utterly unbelievable had happened to him; he still couldn’t quite accept it, and felt… somewhat dazed.

He had traveled through time, or more precisely, into a book.

With this thought, he took another drag on his cigarette. He wasn’t much of a smoker, only indulging when extremely tired or frustrated by some problem. Now, clearly, it was the latter. Although his face remained calm and unruffled, his mood was indeed terrible.

He couldn’t make sense of how it had all happened; it was utterly baffling.

It all seemed to have started on an ordinary afternoon when he received a work email from a subordinate, which included a document named ydfwbk.

He didn’t think much of it at the time, assuming it was some work-related material and casually clicked to open it. To his surprise, it was a novel.

The bold title “The Film Emperor Must Be Me” furrowed his brow. He was about to close it when his mouse accidentally slipped, scrolling down the page and catching a glimpse of three familiar characters.

Before he could look closely, his usually efficient and elegant female subordinate sent him a message, clearly distressed, asking him to delete the document and not to read it, as it was just a small hobby of hers, unworthy of the president’s attention.

He responded with a hmm, closed the document, and went back to reviewing his work files. However, strangely, he didn’t delete the document since his own name was mentioned in it.

How much time had passed since then, he couldn’t recall. He only remembered that during a rare moment of leisure, he revisited the novel.

It was a BL novel set in the entertainment industry. The character sharing his name, Qin Mingyuan, was the male lead’s ardent admirer—pathetically so, a man hopelessly devoted throughout the book. Despite being neglected after the protagonist got together with another character, he continued to silently assist, blocking attacks from the protagonist’s partner’s mother and even sacrificing his life to save him from a criminal, transferring most of his personal assets to the protagonist before dying.

Idiot was his only comment for this character. He couldn’t stand that such a fool bore his name, and feeling quite upset, he deleted the document and, over the next few days, doubled his female subordinate’s workload. He thought she was too idle, reading such stuff.

This minor incident during his busy work life was soon forgotten, never imagining it would intersect with his life again. But surprises always come unexpectedly.

He still remembered that night he had a business dinner, drank a bit too much, and went home to take a bath and fell into a deep sleep. When he woke up, he found himself in a different place.

A strange bedroom, with decor similar to his own minimalist style but completely different furnishings, made him think he was dreaming. He closed his eyes for ten minutes, hoping it would all disappear, but when he opened them again, nothing had changed.

He cursed silently, getting out of bed to explore the house, thinking perhaps it was a prank someone pulled while he was asleep.

This thought was quickly dismissed. Apart from him, only his housekeeper and assistant knew his home’s security code, and it seemed unlikely they would dare to prank him like this.

As he pondered, he received a call from a middle-aged man with a strange voice, who greeted him with “President Qin” and asked whether he would go to the office by himself or need picking up.

Without betraying his confusion, he asked to be picked up.

After the call, he went to his wardrobe. The clothes were unfamiliar, yet the style was recognizably his—a row of bespoke suits.

He briefly examined them and then glanced at the dressing mirror beside him, noticing something eerie—perhaps, possibly, maybe… this wasn’t his body.

The build was the same, and so was the face, but there was one difference—a mole at the corner of his left eye, which he didn’t have originally.

He calmly went to the bathroom to freshen up, calmly got dressed, calmly left the house, calmly took the car to a completely unfamiliar company, and calmly listened to people call him “President Qin” along the way.

He settled into the large, comfortable leather chair in his office, listening to a young, unfamiliar assistant briefing him on work, his face betraying no emotion. No one knew how confused he felt inside.

Taking a deep puff on his cigarette, Qin Mingyuan moved away from the window and extinguished the cigarette butt in a crystal ashtray on his desk, rubbing his fingers that smelled of smoke.

He had always been a man of science, an atheist, yet here he was, confronted with a reality that challenged his beliefs, feeling extremely irritated.

Half-lidded eyes, thin lips pressed tightly together, his expression indifferent. If someone familiar with him were here, they would recognize these as signs of his irritation.

“Knock, knock,” the door tapped lightly, and he looked up, walked back to his desk and sat down, leaning back slightly, “Come in.”

Zhou Yang, his assistant whom he had met just that morning, entered and handed him a folder, “President Qin, there’s a project for you to review and sign.”

Qin Mingyuan took it, looking down to open it.

The company he now managed was Qin Corporation’s main company, also a finance firm, perfectly aligning with his expertise, presenting no challenge to him.

Besides the main company, Qin Corporation also owned many subsidiaries with a broad range of interests, which he had taken time that morning to briefly review, just in case.

“President Qin, you mentioned visiting Mr. Yun on set today. When do we leave?” Zhou Yang asked while taking back the folder.

Hearing the name Mr. Yun, Qin Mingyuan paused as he placed his pen back in its holder.

If he wasn’t mistaken, the person referred to was one of the protagonists of the book, Yun Yuexian.

After replacing the pen, he squinted his eyes. It seemed that in the current storyline, they had already met, and his original self had already started pursuing him.

The novel was narrated from Yun Yuexian’s perspective, and his original character was a significant figure, described in detail.

Overall, the original character had fallen for the protagonist at first sight, in a way that he found ridiculous.

He really wanted to understand how a billionaire corporate heir, a capable and composed top executive, could fall so irrationally in love with an obscure actor from the beginning to the very end.

Perhaps, this was just the protagonist’s halo effect.

Qin Mingyuan had no interest in this person. If possible, it would be best to avoid any interaction, regardless of how the story unfolded, as it had nothing to do with him.

He tapped his fingers on the desk a couple of times, hesitating to speak.

Although he thought this way, changing his attitude suddenly would be too strange and might raise suspicions, even though he didn’t think anyone would suspect such an improbable scenario. But what if?

Also, he was unfamiliar with the situation here and wasn’t sure if there was a way back. If there was, perhaps the protagonist might have a clue.

After all, in this world, he was the center of attention.

Weighing the pros and cons, Qin Mingyuan eventually stood up, straightened his suit collar and tie with a calm demeanor, and looked up, “Let’s go now.”