The day I was kicked out of the entertainment industry by the entire Internet, I bound myself to the live broadcast face-slapping system.
Dress up as a substitute bride who is abandoned by the domineering male protagonist in the novel about a wealthy family.
According to the plot, I should kneel down in the rainy night and beg him not to leave.
But I started the live broadcast with my backhand: "Come on, old guys, today I will teach you how to let a scumbag go gracefully."
When the barrage was boiling, the gloomy actor in the corner suddenly turned red:
"Madam, the one you released... Seems to be me."
