"Andy, you can't go on like this. You haven't published a work in two years, and you still owe the publisher a book, you know!"
"Even if you can't write that shit, don't refuse the job I find for you!"
"Seventeen magazine asked you to write a blog. They like the way you talk. This is work. I'm your agent. I'm helping you!"
Andy Smith watched the bald, middle-aged man in front of him chatter incessantly all morning, his head buzzing. He pressed his fingers against his temples, which were about to explode, and curled up on the sofa, saying painfully, "Okay, okay, Carl, stop talking. Fuck, my head is about to explode. No, I'm going to take a painkiller and get some sleep. I won't see you off."
Karl watched Andy Smith rubbing his temples and stumbling up the stairs. He raised his hand and moved his lips slightly, wanting to persuade him again. He didn't know what he thought of, so he put down his hand and sighed slightly, "Then you have a good rest. When you're well rested, remember to call me."
Andy Smith lay on the large, messy bed, his eyes closed, a look of pain on his face, thinking back on the past 12 hours, which was simply incredible.
"Ahem…"
Song Dawei climbed out of the icy pool and began to vomit, slapping his chest and spitting out large gulps of water. It took him a while to come to his senses. His limbs were weak and his head was splitting.
Damn it, where am I? Didn't my phone explode while I was using it to make a call? He held his aching head, wiped the water off his face, slowly stood up, and walked into the house with the dim light in the villa and found the bathroom.
As soon as he turned on the light, Song Dawei was stunned. A strange face appeared in the bathroom mirror. It had black hair, lake-blue eyes, soft features, and a sickly pale complexion. It was about 180-190 cm tall, but very thin, which made it look very out of place. It was just exceptionally young, with a sense of immaturity.
Staring blankly at the mirror, Song Dawei, already in his thirties, turned around and walked out of the bathroom with a dull look. His water-stained feet stepped on the soft carpet and he lay down directly on the large white sofa in the living room, muttering, "Damn, am I possessed and traveled through time?"
As a veteran online bookworm, he quickly realized what was happening, and an indescribable emotion surged in his heart: excitement, panic, or perhaps excitement.
Song Dawei, who was immersed in his memories, suddenly felt a sharp pain in his head, as if a red-hot iron was stirring in his head, making his brain boil. He fell to the ground with his head in his hands, howling and rolling around. He didn't know how long it was before blood flowed from his nose and he fainted.
In a trance, Song Dawei saw a gray-white cloud with a tiny electric current merging with a white cloud, and the electric current was decomposing the white cloud.
"Ah... what just happened?" Song Dawei sat up, somewhat bewildered. Waking up, he found his head, which had fainted from the pain a moment ago, was now clear. He felt something sticky under his nose, and when he touched it, it was all blood.
He quickly stood up, walked into the bathroom, and looked in the mirror. A nosebleed ran down his mouth. After a few seconds of contemplation, he closed his eyes and recalled something. He swallowed hard, then suddenly opened them again. Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he felt dizzy again. The owner of this body was Andy Smith, a 21-year-old writer who had achieved fame as a child. His mother was a Tiffany jewelry designer, and his father was a lawyer, a partner in a New York law firm. And what made him most excited was that the current time was April 2006!
Looking at the large, messy and dim living room, Andy turned on all the lights. The villa was decorated in a simple and bright style, with white as the main color. The furniture was European style and full of modern style. A huge family photo was hung on the wall behind the sofa.
From the information found in memory, his grandfather was of Chinese descent and his mother was of mixed race. He was one quarter Chinese and his family was very wealthy.
Andy was very smart since he was a child. He was proficient in piano, guitar and reading various books. At the age of sixteen, he wrote his first novel "Vampire Academy", which made him famous. He then wrote a novel "Paper Towns", which made him a very famous young writer in America.
Andy stripped naked and soaked himself in the large, stylish white bathtub. He watched the rising steam wet the three mirrored walls around him, and he closed his eyes slightly as he continued to reminisce. Until Paper Towns was bought by a Hollywood film company, and he was tricked by his sleazy agent into moving from New York to Los Angeles and applying to the University of Southern California.
Los Angeles, Hollywood.
In this world full of pleasure seekers, time plays tricks on you. One day you dream, and then your dream becomes reality. It's a good time. If someone tells you that you made a mistake, broke your heart, and got a ruthless lesson, and when you indulge in the meaningless scent of a woman, here, in this warm California sun, it will begin to degenerate.
He'd lost his inspiration in the year and a half he'd been in Hollywood, and now he was having what you'd call a life crisis, which is basically just that he couldn't write, which was terrible because he was a writer, a professional writer, and now he couldn't even write a goddamn sentence.
Women, marijuana, alcohol, and drug abuse had completely ruined his once healthy body. His sunken eye sockets, pale, sickly complexion, and frail figure, all contrasted with his 188-centimeter height, looked grotesque. Finally, under the influence of marijuana and alcohol, he slipped into the swimming pool outside his house and drowned, a fate that benefited Song Dawei, whose soul had traveled through time.
Wearing pajamas, Song Dawei wandered around the villa in a daze, looking at all the decorations and photos that were both familiar and unfamiliar, looking at the spacious study with an entire wall of books, the luxurious movie theater, and the fitness room with a marble billiard table and various fitness equipment...
"It's really... like a dream." Andy scratched his tangled hair as he stared at the sunlight streaming in through the French windows. He had spent the night sorting out his memories and examining the villa. A sleepless night, fueled by the reorganization of his memories and the stimulation of marijuana and alcohol, hadn't left him listless; instead, it had left him unusually energized.
Although Andy didn't understand why this happened, he didn't take it to heart, thinking it was just the excitement after knowing that he was possessed and traveled through time.
As mentioned before, this guy named Andy Smith became famous at a young age. He earned about 5 million US dollars in royalties from book sales and film adaptation rights. His parents spent more than 2 million US dollars to buy him a villa, a red Ferrari F430 worth 500,000 US dollars given by his grandfather, and a Porsche CARRERAGT worth 480,000 US dollars given by his grandfather.
Although there are many millionaires in wealthy areas like Los Angeles, this amount of money is really not enough. What's more, Andy has been living a life of debauchery for a year and a half since he came here. He has no inspiration and can't write anything. The mental distress makes him miserable. He spends money lavishly and drinks without any scruples. Until now, he himself doesn't know how much savings he has left. The number that is still clear in his memory seems to be more than 2 million. Fortunately, the publisher will deposit a new copyright fee into his account every year. It seems that his two works have been included in the catalog of recommended reading books for teenagers by the American Education Department. Sales will increase again. This is a fixed income. Perhaps it was the only good news that Andy Smith felt relieved about in the past.
Anyway, I inherited everything from him, my identity, my life. I am Andy Smith.
Andy shrugged, walked to the French window and stretched. Although his head still hurt, he started thinking. So, what should he do now?
Andy, who was still thinking, squinted his eyes slightly to block the dazzling sunlight, and couldn't help licking his dry lips. An unprecedented excitement enveloped his whole body, as if a current passed through him and made him tremble slightly.