Transmigrated As A Villain, The Heroines Are Also Regressors? - Chapter 142: Interrogation (2)

Sunless once wondered why the stars shone so brightly, despite being far out of reach. There was a scientific explanation out there, but he didn’t care about that. If the world wanted to spite him, he’d spite the world back.Sunny will reach for the stars, grasp them, and crush them, drowning the universe with a lightless sky.

After just recently attaining the trophy for emperor of the silver screen, Chu Yan dies in a traffic accident and is rebirthed into a period millennium years later.

Floating cars occupy the skies, and everyone owns virtual glasses. Culture explosion! Entertainment explosion!

Yet, in such a glorious and brilliant entertainment world, Chu Yan was astonished to discover that——all these people didn’t know how to act!!!

Simulation of moods through artificial intelligence? Special effects production replacing acting skills?

Becoming an actor simply by just understanding AI script? The era is progressing, but acting skills have retrogressed.

Reporter: Chu Yan, what is your opinion regarding the scandal this time about you already being married?

Chu Yan: …Please inform me, exactly who is my spouse?!

Rebirth of the emperor of the silver screen into a third-tier star: shooting movies, becoming popular, winning awards, and ascending to the peak, and setting off a surging tide to the apex of the entertainment circle!

As for who his partner was——

He Baishen: Hello, my surname is Yi, you may call me Yi Ming (Anonymous).

- Description from Novelupdates

A normal office worker, Toru Minasuki, was swallowed up by a dimensional fissure and reincarnated into a different world. Upon reincarnation, Toru was given a [skill board] by God. Make the most of it to acquire all the necessary skills! Even though he is an “inferior person,” he’ll make his way to the top!

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.