2:45 AM.

Most people were already deep in sleep, and even the bustling streets had taken on an air of tranquility.

Yet the commercial center building in City A remained brightly lit.

Su Yun briefly shifted her gaze from the computer files to check the time displayed in the lower right corner.

She blinked, her weary brain taking a few seconds to process that it was already 2:45.

Just moments ago, when she had last checked, it was only 8:00 PM.

Without realizing it, six or seven hours had flown by—had she really been working overtime until this hour?

With a crisp snap, her colleague sitting behind her closed the laptop, stretched, stood up, and turned around. Spotting Su Yun, she asked in surprise, "Su Yun, haven't you finished editing that file yet?"

Their job, seen from the outside, was the glamorous title of "million-dollar audio engineer"—rubbing shoulders with famous singers and actors, and staying at the forefront of art and fashion.

Unfortunately, only they themselves knew the true hardships involved.

There was no "million-dollar" salary. Singers frequently went off-key, "vocal characteristics" had to be preserved, and professional competence was often lacking.

Every day felt like trying to carve a flower out of excrement.

What's more, they had to accommodate the schedules of these so-called "professional singers," frequently working late into the night, yet never escaping criticism and condescension.

"Monthly salary of 3,500—life is more bitter than coffee."

Just as her colleague uttered these words, Su Yun picked up her iced black coffee.

For a moment, she hesitated whether to drink it or not.

Oh well, this 9.9-yuan coffee was something she had snatched up using a coupon earlier—no sense wasting it.

Two seconds later, she swallowed the coffee resentfully and said miserably, "The boss said this has to be finished by tomorrow morning."

"I remember this file—the boss only gave it to you this morning, right?" Her colleague's eyes widened even more, and she added with a curse, "Capitalists really are inhuman."

Audio engineers had access to plenty of work, but it all depended on experience and referrals. For ordinary people like them, working for a studio meant being exploited by capitalists.

"Exactly," Su Yun chimed in with her own complaint. Leaning back, she began her daily routine of daydreaming and suddenly had a bright idea. "I'll go buy a lottery ticket tomorrow. If I win five million, the first thing I'll do is buy the studio and make the boss work like a dog for me."

As she spoke, she clenched her fist and waved it in the air, a smile spreading across her face as if she could already picture her boss submitting a proposal to her at three in the morning.

The dreams of the working class were just that simple and unadorned.

Hearing this, her colleague joined in the fantasy. "That would be amazing. When that happens, remember to make me the vice president."

"Easy, easy." Su Yun's smile grew even wider.

The ding of a phone notification dragged them both back from their beautiful dream.

Su Yun looked down at the work group chat and mechanically replied with a soulless, "Received."

Returning from her dream to reality, she pouted. "Feels like dreaming is still easier."

Her colleague fell silent for a couple of seconds before saying, "Then, working overtime tonight—does that mean you can't even dream?"

Su Yun: "???!!!"

That added remark cut deeper than any knife, striking straight at Su Yun's heart.

The smile that had appeared during her fantasy froze on her lips. A few seconds later, her gaze turned so resentful it could have summoned a vengeful spirit. "You've pushed me too far!"

Her colleague burst into unrestrained laughter.

The two of them bantered back and forth, and Su Yun had thought it would help clear her head.

But for some reason, her mind only grew foggier.

In the last moment before she closed her eyes, what she saw was her colleague rushing toward her in a panic.

---

When Su Yun woke again, she found herself in a hospital.

The sunlight outside was bright, even glaring as it streamed through the window.

Instinctively, she raised a hand to shield her eyes from the light.

The IV needle in her hand shifted with the movement, sending a sharp sting through her.

It was this sting that brought a bit of clarity to her vision.

Looking around, she saw pale white walls and an IV bag hanging nearby. Had her colleague brought her here?

But before she could confirm it, she heard voices outside the hospital room.

"Is Su Yun in room 1202?" a woman's voice asked, tinged with doubt.

"Yes, it's her. I heard she got injured while on a wire stunt." someone replied in a lower tone.

Even so, Su Yun didn't miss the response.

They were clearly talking about her, but why did it sound so strange?

A wire stunt? She'd never done anything like that.

"When she was brought in, she looked pretty badly hurt. It's been a month now, and Jiang Zhi still hasn't come to see her."

"You know there's no love between them, right? I don't even know why Actress Jiang married her in the first place."

Just as they reached this point in their conversation, the voices abruptly stopped, replaced by a more authoritative woman's tone: "Is gossiping during work hours allowed? If this happens again, your monthly bonus will be revoked."

"..."

Su Yun couldn't help but think to herself, Why can't we gossip during work hours?

She loved gossiping during work hours more than anything.

But she had no energy to argue now—her attention was completely fixed on the names she'd just heard.

Su Yun, Jiang Zhi, Actress Jiang, wire stunt...

Why did it sound exactly like the novel she'd just read a few days ago?

Even though her job often required overtime, Su Yun made it a habit to unwind every night by reading a novel once she got home and settled into bed.

The book she'd read recently had been recommended by a colleague, who claimed it was highly praised.

To be honest, when Su Yun saw the title Humid Weather, she'd already been a bit suspicious.

And when she started reading, she fully understood her colleague's "good intentions."

The first character to appear in the novel—a cannon fodder side character—was also named Su Yun.

Before she could even question her colleague about it, she received another message: "Memorize the whole thing, just in case you transmigrate into the book one day."

It was that comment that made Su Yun pause before closing the page, and she forced herself to keep reading.

The protagonist, Jiang Zhi, was an undisputed film queen in the entertainment industry.

Elegant and aloof, she only attended work-related events, like a distant moon hanging in the sky.

The original host character and Jiang Zhi had an arranged marriage, with an agreement to stay out of each other's way.

But after marrying Jiang Zhi, the original host showed her true colors—first demanding that Jiang Zhi publicly announce their marriage, with no regard for her career.

Then she insisted that Jiang Zhi appear on a reality show with her, where she acted arrogantly and caused endless trouble for Jiang Zhi, earning herself a storm of online hate.

After causing enough trouble, the cannon fodder character had her marriage annulled by Jiang Zhi and was eventually sent off to Africa to work in the mines.

In short: the story was a melodramatic mess with no logic, and her only purpose was to serve as a stumbling block on the protagonist's path to love.

After sorting out the plot and receiving the memories, Su Yun: "..."

Why was she a wage slave no matter where she went?

However, because of this, she now understood why she was in the hospital.

A month ago, the original host was filming the final scene for her drama, which required a wire harness. The scene was simple, with only a few lines.

Even though the original host's acting skills were poor, it only took three takes to wrap up.

But the moment filming ended, the wire harness malfunctioned. The fall was from a considerable height, and the original host was severely injured, lost consciousness, and died on the spot.

Meanwhile, Su Yun from another world had just died from overwork and happened to cross over into this body.

However, the injuries were severe, and it was only now, a month later, that she truly woke up.

---

When her agent, Li Xinyi, walked in, she was met with Su Yun's utterly dejected expression.

To be fair, Su Yun's appearance wasn't bad—her features were distinct, her eyes clear, and the curve at the corners of her eyes was just right.

Lying in the hospital bed without makeup, her lips were slightly pale, yet this somehow made her even more striking than usual.

But Li Xinyi still felt that Su Yun's overall aura was different from before.

It took her a while to find the right words to describe it—though somewhat impolite, it was fitting.

—It was as if she was shrouded in a faint aura of death.

Su Yun couldn't read minds, but if she had heard Li Xinyi's assessment, she would have agreed wholeheartedly: "That's just how wage slaves are."

Just as Su Yun was staring blankly at the ceiling, she heard the sound of the hospital room door opening. She turned her head and saw the original host's agent.

Li Xinyi checked the IV drip and sat down beside the bed, her eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

Su Yun answered honestly, "I'm fine, just a little not fine."

Li Xinyi's expression grew even more pained. "Your injuries are serious this time. You'll need to rest for a few more days."

She spoke indirectly.

In reality, it wasn't that Su Yun could rest—she had to rest.

All of Su Yun's recent dramas had flopped, and she was swarmed by anti-fans, leaving her with no new opportunities.

In the entertainment industry, having no exposure and no resources was pretty much a death sentence.

Li Xinyi was still worried that Su Yun would press for answers as she usually did and was thinking about how to respond.

But then she suddenly heard Su Yun ask, "Sister Li, how many days can I rest at most?"

It's a vacation! Who doesn't love a vacation?

The faint aura of death that had surrounded her moments ago instantly vanished. Looking at Su Yun's sparkling eyes, Li Xinyi felt as if she were hallucinating a squirrel that had just found a pinecone.

The happiness emanating from the other person was too obvious.

And because of this, Li Xinyi felt even more pressured, thinking Su Yun was trying to comfort her.

The words "one month" stuck in her throat, impossible to utter.

Gritting her teeth, she spoke but avoided meeting Su Yun's eyes, changing the subject instead: "I just spoke with the doctor. She said you're recovering well and can be discharged in a few days after observation."

"For the remaining month, you should rest well at home..."

Before Li Xinyi could finish, Su Yun interrupted her.

Sitting up straight, Su Yun repeated her question: "How long is the break?"

If she heard correctly, it was one month?!

"One month..." Li Xinyi felt even more guilty. Su Yun was still in the hospital, and here she was bringing this up now.

With the confirmation, Su Yun's smile widened even more. In her previous life, she could never even scrape together seven days of annual leave.

To suddenly have a whole month off—how could she not be overjoyed?

Su Yun was still unaware of Li Xinyi's inner turmoil. She double-checked, "Sister Li, so for this entire month, I really have no work at all?"

Watching the smile on Su Yun's face, Li Xinyi felt even more heartache but could only nod in response.

After her injury, Su Yun's temperament had become even gentler, and she even comforted Li Xinyi.

Though unsure why she was receiving so many sympathetic looks, Su Yun happily saw Li Xinyi off.

Returning to her bedside, she opened her phone and saw a pop-up notification for a new message.

[Your bank card ending in 2333 received a deposit of RMB 5,000,000.00 on June 11. Current balance...]

---

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