Sickly Bigshot’s CH 01 Escape

Translated by The BL Muse (ko-fi)

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The Sickly Bigshot’s Favorite Salted Fish [Showbiz] CH 01 Escape

Like a rainbow streaking across the sky, the dazzling, outrageously flamboyant Bugatti was sent spinning out of control. The car smashed through the guardrail and plunged straight into the raging river.

Shi Zhou’s head slammed against the windshield as he watched his blood disperse in the water, his life silently slipping away.

Memories flashed before his eyes like a final reel—his twenty-four years of life had indeed been unremarkable.

His last thought was—

What a ridiculous way to die! If I’d known I’d die young, I should’ve rebelled and fought to become an actor, damn the consequences!

The icy river water and the suffocating pain gripped Shi Zhou’s throat. Slowly, he closed his eyes.

It felt like an eternity—or perhaps just a second—before Shi Zhou’s eyes snapped open again.

He shuddered, the agony of near-death still clinging to him. Gasping for breath, he sat up and looked around.

The room was dim, disco lights spinning wildly, pop songs blaring, and someone was screeching off-key like a tortured cat.

After a car crash, instead of a hospital, I get noise pollution as a second round of torment? Was it all just a nightmare?

Shi Zhou shook his head, trying to dispel the lingering terror of drowning. He scanned the room again—

He was sitting perfectly fine on a VIP lounge sofa. One person was still butchering a song, while the other two stared at him with strange expressions.

"Shi Zhou? What’s wrong? Drink up, this stuff’s amazing."

Drink?

Was it all just a drunk dream?

The table in front of him was littered with empty bottles—he must’ve drunk a lot. Yet now, he felt completely sober, his heart still pounding from the shock.

And who the hell are these people?

He was certain he didn’t know any of them. But since he was in public, even if confused, he immediately slipped into the cold, dignified heir persona he’d used for years to fool the media. Clearing his throat, he asked icily, "Excuse me, who are you?"

The two men exchanged glances. The greasy, overweight one squinted and grinned. "You blacked out? I’m Lü Qi."

Lü Qi?

The name rang a bell. The moment he heard it, an image of a fat man popped into his head. Did I lose my memory or—

Wait a damn second!

This was that trashy, dog-blood novel he’d read—the one with the scumbag gong and the doormat shou!

So the car crash was real. His death was real. But fate had given him a second chance at life.

Shi Zhou froze for a moment—but his skin was thicker than most. In no time, he accepted the fact that he’d transmigrated into a book. Not just that, he was already itching to rewrite the ending, give that scumbag gong a one-way ticket to the crematorium, and live his best life without playing the doormat...

But before he could plan the most satisfying way to burn the trash male lead, he realized something was off.

He wasn’t the protagonist, Song Duannian.

He was the cannon fodder stand-in—the one who shared his name.

"Shi Zhou? You okay?" The two men’s expressions grew even weirder, exchanging another glance.

—This was bizarre. They’d just gotten Shi Zhou blackout drunk, watched him pass out face-down on the table. How had he suddenly sprung up like he’d been electrocuted, acting like a completely different person?

Shi Zhou cleared his throat, feigning calm. "I’m going to the restroom."

He took a step—and immediately stumbled.

Why did it feel like walking on stilts?

Looking down, he realized he was actually wearing bedazzled stilettos.

His gaze traveled up—a frilly pink mini skirt with a petticoat, adorned with a giant white bunny print.

God. Did I transmigrate into the wrong gender?!

If this is the case, maybe I should just return to the factory settings and request a reincarnation do-over.

Shi Zhou wobbled unsteadily on his "stilts," desperately searching for a bathroom to assess the damage in the mirror.

The place was a labyrinth, twisting and turning like it was designed to disorient guests into thinking it was bigger than it was.

After one circle, Shi Zhou—a certified directionally challenged idiot—somehow ended up back where he started.

Before he could even turn the corner, he heard Fatty Lü Qi’s voice:

"Almost there! What the hell, we already got him drunk! The drug should’ve kicked in by now... Whatever, just get the guys up here to grab him. Second-floor restroom."

Shi Zhou’s internal alarm bells blared. He suddenly realized exactly which scene he’d transmigrated into.

This cannon fodder stand-in didn’t have much screentime, but this part was unforgettable—the moment before the stand-in cannon fodder truly became a cannon fodder.

If caught now, not only would he be gang-raped by these men, but they’d also take humiliating photos, destroying his career as a C-list celebrity. The shame and public scorn would eventually drive him to suicide.

Shi Zhou didn’t hesitate. He kicked off the damn heels and bolted barefoot, weaving through the maze-like halls in search of an exit.

The corridor was dim, every private room packed with flashing lights and blaring music. Not a single empty space to hide.

Finally, a glow at the end of the hallway—an exit?

Shi Zhou sprinted toward it.

But as the light hit his face, his pupils constricted in horror.

Wasn't this just the restroom of this floor?

The exact place they were coming to grab him!

Stomping his foot in frustration, Shi Zhou turned to flee—but his eyes caught a figure inside.

A man, clearly unwell, leaned against the wall, one hand braced on the sink, the other pressed to his stomach. He looked like he might collapse any second.

Shi Zhou’s gaze flicked to his face—and his breath hitched. He couldn't resist looking again.

The man was inhumanly beautiful.

Even as a playboy who’d grown up surrounded by elites and celebrities, Shi Zhou was stunned.

But the man was clearly in bad shape—pale as death, lips bloodless, brows furrowed in a way that was very forbidding. His entire aura screamed stay away.

Still, compared to the thugs hunting him, this sickly beauty seemed like the safer bet.

Shi Zhou dashed forward, oozing fake concern. "Sir! Are you okay? Let me help you back to your room!"

Without waiting for permission, he grabbed the man’s arm, ready to drag him off like a kidnapper.

The man’s head snapped up, his vision unfocused, but he still managed to shove Shi Zhou away. "Don’t touch me," he said with cold annoyance.

Shi Zhou’s mind was sharp even as his situation was dangerous:

Leaving now meant running straight into his pursuers. This ridiculous pink bunny dress was a neon target. Unless those guys suddenly went blind, he was screwed.

His best bet? Hide in a private room.

But every one was occupied as if this place had very good business. Then logically, they wouldn’t dare barge into each one searching for him… right?

The beautiful man tried to walk away—but staggered after one step, actually collapsing toward the floor!

Shi Zhou instinctively lunged to catch him—

And grossly underestimated the weight of a 190cm tall grown man.

They both crashed to the ground.

Shi Zhou landed hard on his tailbone, biting back a curse. If I had a tail, that would’ve snapped it in half.

The man’s eyes glazed over, on the verge of passing out. Finally, he spoke, voice weak:

"Do you have... candy?"

Shi Zhou blinked. Oh. Low blood sugar?

He automatically patted his pockets because he remembered buying some candy when he bought some cigarettes only to realize—

That's right, he was dead.

And this stupid, gender-confused bunny dress had no damn pockets!

Footsteps pounded down the hall—his hunters were coming.

Desperate, Shi Zhou grabbed the man. "Just tell me which room is yours!"