Liu Xin'an sat back down on the sofa, his gaze instinctively falling on the camera on the table.
The camera was small. If he hadn't come across it before, he might really have mistaken it for an ornament.
The microphone clipped to his collar also reminded Liu Xin'an that he was currently being recorded.
He casually turned on the TV and, after just a few minutes, his eyes—again instinctively—landed on the camera.
It's not that he intentionally sought the camera; it's just that once he thought about it, he would subconsciously look for those cameras.
But fortunately, he was quick to react on the spot.
Knowing that if he continued like this he would ruin the filming, Liu Xin'an's eyes darted around and he simply started complaining about the shoot to the camera.
"It's really quite uncomfortable. Do artists always live in such harsh environments?"
He leaned back on the sofa in a relaxed posture, started talking to himself, and began venting to the camera.
