Hirah367

Xia Yang has spent lifetimes hopping through worlds—king, assassin,CEO, doctor, chef, and more. But when he suddenly wakes up in a new body, his system drops a bombshell: This is your original world. Then, just as quickly, it vanishes, leaving him stranded with no memories and no clue what to do next.

Before he can even figure out his identity, a series of unexpected twists lead to the ultimate disaster—he gets tricked into living with Long Wei, the cold and untouchable king of showbiz. The two clash instantly, their every interaction turning into a battle of wits and sharp words.

But as the days pass and sparks fly, their constant bickering begins to shift into something neither of them expected. Could this be the beginning of a love story Xia Yang never saw coming?

Transmigration's End: The Start of Love(BL)

Chapter 4: Unwanted Spotlight

As Xia Yang plummeted through the air, time seemed to slow. His body moved on instinct, honed by years of surviving in countless worlds. He twisted mid-air, angling himself toward a decorative sculpture positioned near the staircase. His fingers grazed the smooth surface before gripping it tightly. The force of impact sent a jolt up his arm, but he didn't hesitate—using the momentum, he kicked off and flipped forward, landing in a low crouch on the polished marble floor.

A sharp, burning sensation shot up his ankle. Xia Yang's expression twisted, and he barely held back a curse. Shit. Twisted it.

Realizing he couldn't stand properly, he pushed himself up and limped toward the nearest plush sofa, collapsing onto it with a tired sigh. His head tilted back against the cushions as he exhaled heavily.

"This is so fucking troublesome…" he muttered under his breath.

The moment of quiet didn't last long.

The guests, who had been watching in stunned silence, finally erupted into a flurry of whispers and gasps. Security was already advancing toward him, their expressions unreadable. And from the upper floor, his captors were peering down at him, looking just as furious as they were shocked.

Xia Yang lifted his head, glaring up at them. "OI! You damn bastards!" he snapped, his voice carrying through the hall. "Trying to kidnap me? Do you think I'm some cheap product you can just grab off the street?!"

His sharp tongue didn't stop there. "If I wasn't in a bad mood before, I sure as hell am now! You're all just lucky my ankle's twisted, or I'd have shoved your heads straight up your asses!"

The crowd gasped. Some choked on their drinks. A woman in an expensive dress covered her mouth, while a few reporters standing by the edge of the room frantically whispered into their microphones.

Xia Yang ignored them, his patience running thin. He glanced around, finally taking in his surroundings properly.

Bright lights. Multiple cameras. A large stage positioned in the center of the room. Several elegant banners hanging from the ceiling, embroidered with gold lettering.

They were hosting a show.

The realization hit him like a truck.

Xia Yang stared at the nearest camera, then waved lazily. "Ah, sorry to interrupt your program. Just edit me out later."

A strangled cough came from somewhere in the room.

Then, a voice—deep and cold—cut through the murmurs.

His head snapped toward the direction of the voice, and for the first time, he felt an ominous chill creep down his spine.

This whole damn thing was broadcasting live?!

The weight of hundreds of eyes—and countless more watching through screens—suddenly bore down on him.