Transmigrate into a Book as the Short-Lived White Moonlight of a Movie Star

Meng Jin transmigrated into a story set in the entertainment industry. The three-time Golden Crown Award Grand Slam actor was her boyfriend, but she died of cancer, becoming the one true love he could never forget. On her first day after transmigrating, Meng Jin immediately had her agent book her a full health checkup! She didn't want to get in the way of the male and female leads meeting, so she decided there was no point in carrying on the relationship. So when she first met the male lead, she rolled her eyes so hard they nearly disappeared into her head and mocked him in front of the entire crew. "Can he even act?" When Xie Zhuo got injured and had to use a stunt double, Meng Jin continued needling him. "He has no professionalism at all. And he's supposed to be a professional actor?" Then they filmed a steamy, intimate scene. Xie Zhuo refused to use a stand-in, gave his first on-screen kiss, and kissed her thirty times, holding her by the waist. Meng Jin: "..." There was no need to be quite that professional. Rumors that Xie Zhuo and Meng Jin couldn't stand each other spread everywhere, and their fans fought like mad, each side accusing the other of getting ahead through connections! Even after Xie Zhuo became the youngest Best Actor, and Meng Jin won Best Actress, the years-long fan war only grew more intense. Then paparazzi photographed them entering and leaving a hotel together, and rumors of an affair flooded in. Meng Jin's fans called Xie Zhuo a lovesick lapdog. Xie Zhuo's fans tagged Meng Jin and wrote, "Die, you green tea bitch!" Late that night, Xie Zhuo posted: I hope my fans will be reasonable and not hurt my family. The fans: "You two can die together [smiling face]" Please add the upcoming novel to your collection: What? The Capital's Buddhist Heir Is My Dad?! Xiang Chu transmigrated into a bitter, dramatic romance full of explicit scenes. Her mother was a refined young lady from a scholarly family, and the male lead was the all-powerful young master of the capital's elite circle. The good news: by the time she arrived, the story was already over. The bad news: the heroine had been dead for sixteen years, and Xiang Chu had been raised since childhood by the heroine's family's chauffeur. Now he had terminal cancer and sent her to find her father with her birth certificate. The male lead was always fingering a priceless string of Buddhist prayer beads. He was aloof and desireless, with ruthless methods, and a mere gesture from him could make the entire capital's elite tremble. When Xiang Chu found him, she said, "They say you're my dad, but I don't know if that's true." When the man saw her, he looked as if he had been struck by lightning. His normally expressionless face showed a jumble of emotions. Pei Yu, usually so aloof and reticent, bent down for the first time and stared hard at the girl's face. "It's me!" Xiang Chu: "...Maybe we should get a paternity test." Pei Yu grabbed her arm, obsession in his eyes. "I'm the only one who can be your father!" Xiang Chu: "..." Every morning, the male lead bought her luxury cars, villas, and amusement parks. Limited-edition handbags alone filled an entire room. After Xiang Chu was placed in an elite high school, where everyone seemed to be a princess of Shanghai society, her classmates were all like young heirs from Hong Kong, strutting around as if they owned the place. Xiang Chu: I'm a successor to socialism too. Do you see me bragging about it? The male lead, desperate to make it up to her, kept asking what she wanted. Xiang Chu: I want all the shares in your company. I'll be chairwoman. Pei Yu smiled as if it were nothing. "Of course." By the time his daughter graduated and joined the company, she was using his name to win over the new elite and sweep out the old guard, becoming the company's undisputed second-in-command. Pei Yu fell into deep thought and turned his gaze toward his own father, the chairman. No one could stand in his daughter's way, not even him. Theme: What you see on the surface isn't necessarily the truth.