Lin Ji woke up only to find he had transmigrated into the body of a third-rate screenwriter.

This was a world where screenwriters held the absolute reins of TV production. Unfortunately, the previous occupant of this body had just set a miraculous record—the lowest viewership ratings since the television station’s inception. It was a spectacular flop, a failure so thunderous that his infamy now echoed across the entire entertainment industry.

Lin Ji, who happened to be a screenwriter himself in his past life: “…”

Isn’t this right within my professional wheelhouse?

The problem was, wheelhouse or not, he was about to be swept out the door.

Lin Ji fingered the few loose coins in his pocket. First things first, he needed to scrape together enough for a meal.

“She is the daughter of the wealthiest man alive, concealing her identity, only to be mocked by a manipulative rival…”

“The God of War returns, only to discover his daughter living in a dog kennel…”

“In my past life, I was murdered by my two-faced best friend, who stole my family fortune and harmed my child. In this life, I will reclaim everything that belongs to me!”

In a world that hadn’t even conceptualised the “transmigration” genre, Lin Ji would first deliver a little cultural shock via short-form dramas, before step-by-step forging his own legend of viewership dominance.