Chapter One: The Radio Host

“Hey, big bro? Big bro?”

A voice echoed near his ear, rising and falling, ethereal and sweet as the sound of wind chimes swaying in the breeze.

Who is it?

His muddled consciousness began to clear, drawn by the persistent call.

Liao Yuan wanted to respond, but found his body unbearably heavy, as if filled with lead, making movement impossible.

“Wake up, big bro!”

Who is it, really?

Like a crack of spring thunder, a jolt stirred within him, and the pounding of his heart sounded in his ears, resonant as a morning bell or evening drum.

I’m not dead?

Liao Yuan struggled, attempting a deep breath...

In the next moment, sensation slowly returned to his cold limbs as blood surged through his veins. Yet his chest felt as though it had been flooded by a torrent of mud and stones, leaving him suffocating, as if drowning.

“Forget it, I’ll leave you be. I’m about to be late. We’ll talk when I get back.”

The wind chime voice drifted away.

Within the darkness, points of light flickered.

Gradually, those specks of light swelled, brilliant as the sun, blinding in their intensity.

Liao Yuan felt a prickling in his eyes. Unbelievably, tears welled up and spilled down, and sensation returned to his body. At last, he managed to open his eyes, finding himself lying on his side in bed, the pillow damp with tears.

Through blurry vision, he saw a girl with waist-length black hair, hastily slinging a schoolbag over her shoulder as she slipped out the door. Her slender white legs, revealed by her pink and white striped skirt, looked even more pure and lovely with every step...

Wait!

Something clicked in Liao Yuan’s mind. He threw off the covers and sat up abruptly.

But the next instant, his head throbbed, as if something was trying to shatter through his temples.

He couldn’t help but clutch at his skull. With the buzzing in his ears, it felt as though countless strings of zeroes and ones were rushing past.

Over ten minutes passed before Liao Yuan regained his composure.

Alive... again?

He stared dazedly at his hands.

Slender, fair fingers, well-shaped joints, and nails trimmed spotlessly clean. With the slightest movement, these nimble hands seemed to dance like swallows in spring, gliding through the air...

“These hands…”

He gazed at them in awe. “What a waste if they never play the piano…”

A moment later, barefoot, Liao Yuan stood on the floor, facing the full-length mirror, examining his reflection.

Sword-like brows, bright starry eyes, sharp, well-defined features—a face of rare, striking beauty. Compared to his appearance in his previous two lives, it was not inferior—perhaps even surpassing them.

“It seems… this is another new world?”

Liao Yuan furrowed his brows, then let out a self-mocking laugh.

He didn’t know who or what in the unseen realms controlled his fate.

But since he was here, he would never waste a chance to live again.

Closing his eyes, he recalled those final days before death.

Day and night blurred together in a world of darkness; a room silent as a deep valley, rats squeaking as they passed, piles of reeking garbage…

The terror of dying lingered—all of it real, as if it happened only yesterday.

He shook his head violently, as if trying to banish those nightmarish scenes from his mind.

The past, like water, leaves no trace.

Now, life had begun anew…

Liao Yuan opened his eyes, surveying the room.

The wardrobe stood open. Inside, in the vast space, there were only two outfits, both identical black suits.

He looked to the desk.

On the desk, aside from neatly stacked documents and a laptop, there was a photograph in a glass frame.

In the photo, a young man and woman smiled radiantly. One was himself, beaming with joy. The other was a girl with waist-length black hair. Under her long, dense lashes, her bright eyes gleamed with mischief. Her lips, slender and moist, parted in a grin, revealing pearly teeth; one hand made a victory sign, the other draped around his neck as if to say, “I’m the boss here.”

“Boss Shan?”

Liao Yuan felt a wave of emotion. Once more, information surged through his mind, and a smile rose unbidden to his lips.

After a brief hesitation, he sat at the desk, opened the laptop, and began searching for the general conditions of this world.

Huaxia…

2021…

The more he read, the more stunned he became.

Everything… had changed?

Not just the timeline, but every major event in modern history, the progression of the eras…

Everything, different.

Liao Yuan grew increasingly silent.

The entertainment industry he once knew felt utterly foreign.

It was an age of talent, every profession strictly categorized and documented, and Huaxia had become a developed nation.

All chances for overnight wealth—lotteries, windfalls—had become almost mythical.

Society’s classes had solidified; it was nearly impossible for the poor to rise.

Even in the entertainment industry, the pay and fees of stars were tightly regulated by relevant authorities.

All the rags-to-riches opportunities that should have existed in developing countries were now practically extinct.

Astronomical appearance fees and endorsement deals had nearly vanished domestically.

Except by means of profound knowledge or remarkable skill, there seemed no more way to climb.

As he scrolled page after page, the information in Liao Yuan’s mind came fully alive.

Memories from this world flooded back in an instant.

Each scene was as vivid as lived experience, giving him the dizzying sense of time travel.

“Three days, only three days left!”

Liao Yuan stared at the blank document open on the screen, murmuring, “So this is why you summoned me…”

…

Liao Yuan’s predecessor had been a late-night radio host, his work schedule forcing him to live with days and nights reversed.

His program was called “Strange Tales of the Mortal World.”

It aired from midnight to two in the morning—a once-popular late-night show with an eight-year history.

At its peak, it had the highest ratings in its time slot.

But as years passed, with hosts coming and going, by the time Liao Yuan took over, “Strange Tales of the Mortal World” was at the very bottom in ratings.

Every time the station evaluated its programs, it placed dead last.

As a result, Liao Yuan’s predecessor walked the halls of the station with his head hung low.

His days consisted of nothing but the mechanical routine of work, gathering free public domain stories, and broadcasting for two hours after midnight.

Such a life was colorless and powerless, with little hope for the future.

All this made Liao Yuan ever more withdrawn, even depressed, relying on sleeping pills to get through the nights.

Even worse, the station director had recently issued the final ultimatum: “Strange Tales of the Mortal World” would soon be cancelled.

With its cancellation, the host Liao Yuan faced imminent dismissal.

In this world, being publicly dismissed spelled disaster for future job prospects.

Thanks to comprehensive laws and a vast social internet, being fired meant an indelible mark on one’s résumé—future job searches would be fraught with difficulty.

This was not the outcome Liao Yuan wanted to see.

In his previous life, he flaunted himself, recklessly spending the knowledge and talents he’d earned in his first life until, in the second, he stood in the brightest spotlight.

He became a superstar, the envy of millions—only to be kidnapped and murdered by a childhood friend.

The reason for the kidnapping was so absurd he could only laugh…

But was it truly absurd?

Liao Yuan fell silent.

Had his extraordinary behavior after transmigrating not drawn such attention, the heights he could have reached in his previous life would have gone far beyond the entertainment industry.

Now, with life beginning anew in a world so different, a faint desire to keep his brilliance hidden began to take root.

A different life, perhaps?

It was a pleasant thought, but first he needed to secure the basics—food and shelter.

Especially since there was a sister living under his roof, dreaming day and night of becoming a star…

The pressure to survive was enormous!

With that thought, he sat at his desk, opened the laptop, and began to recall the classic horror stories from his previous life.

Unfortunately, he’d had few chances to encounter horror tales.

Due to the circumstances of his past world, most of the scripts he received were workplace dramas, historical epics, and other popular genres.

Still, there were traces, memories to follow.

Liao Yuan stared at the blank document, closed his eyes gently, and entered a state of meditation.

It was a habit left from his past.

Whenever he needed to recall something deeply, he would slip into a mysterious state, as if an old monk entering profound stillness, his mind going utterly calm in an instant.

Meditation did not always succeed; sometimes his mind remained a blank slate.

But if it did…

Just like now, threads of thought drifted through his mind, as if his soul had left his body, swiftly traveling through layers of barriers to another time and place…

“Mr. Liao, after winning the Golden Horse Award for Best Actor, who do you most wish to thank?”

“Ah Yuan! You did it! You made it! Your new album just sold over a million in its debut month—platinum! You’ve reached platinum status!”

“Liao Yuan, this is your final warning. Sign this contract and we’ll both make a fortune as friends. Refuse, and there’ll be no place for you in the industry ever again!”

“718 on the college entrance exam! My son, you’re amazing! Dad’s proud of you!”

“Winner of the 31st Asian Entertainment Most Popular Artist: Liao Yuan! Congratulations, Liao Yuan!”

“God of Song! God of Song!”

His brain’s neurons fired ever faster, and the wheels of memory rolled forward, crushing fragments of time beneath them.

After only a minute, Liao Yuan found his breathing growing ragged.

Another minute, and his throat rattled with a gurgle.

The intense mental exertion left him dizzy, as if he’d ridden a rollercoaster, nausea rising in his chest.

But…

No luck, no luck!

He found nothing.

He searched through every timeline, but not a single horror story surfaced!

Liao Yuan grew anxious. At the same time, his nose tingled with a salty sting—then a chill, as if icy wind had cut through his sinuses, burning fiercely.

He flipped through history, countless images flashing by.

At the last moment, the scene he wanted finally appeared.

“Ah Yuan, there’s a streaming platform that wants you for a show. I’ve read the script—it’s called ‘Soul Ferry.’ Interested?”

“Oh right, almost forgot. Here—this ‘Day and Night Detective,’ maybe check it out? I hear the script took three years to prepare, and the producers want you as the lead—playing two roles. It’s a suspenseful, investigative drama, and those are very popular right now.”

“Ah Yuan, good news—you’ve been enjoying ‘Ghost Blows Out the Light’ lately, right? The company just bought the film rights. It’s about to start production—this is a mega IP, with fans everywhere. If we maneuver well, you could land the lead…”

“Yes, ‘Ghost Blows Out the Light’! The higher-ups said this time there’ll be no favoritism; the lead role will be a fair competition between you and Kun.”

Ghost Blows Out the Light?

Ghost Blows Out the Light!

Liao Yuan’s eyes flew open, but the world went black, and he nearly toppled backward.

Reeling with dizziness, he bent over and grabbed the trash can, retching as bile and stomach acid poured forth.

But he couldn’t spare a thought for the discomfort—he could feel the vivid memories already fading.

He wiped his mouth with a tissue, hurried back to the desk, opened the document, and, drawing from his true recollections, began typing furiously all he could remember of “Ghost Blows Out the Light.”

“My grandfather’s name was Hu Guohua…”