After Transmigrating into the Main Shou, I Topped the Paranoid Big Shot 1

Chapter 1

At the bustling, extraordinary cocktail party, lights and shadows intertwined in a shimmering, brilliant display.

Zong Mo glanced sideways at the wall, which was polished to a mirror-like shine, and was startled to find that he, too, was one of the shimmering, brilliantly-dressed figures.

He wore a high-end, midnight-blue suit, impeccably tailored and dotted with tiny, sparkling flecks, as if he had draped the night sky over his shoulders.

One moment, he was typing on his keyboard in the dimness of his solitary bedroom; the next, he’d inexplicably arrived among the glitz and glamour of high society.

He walked closer to the mirror-like wall, seeing his own facial features, but they carried an unfamiliar air. The exquisite outfit masked his youthful look. He rarely bothered to dress up and had no idea his own features could look so stunningly handsome.

He hardly looked like himself anymore.

Speaking of which… where was he?

In his daze, someone clapped him sharply on the shoulder.

A woman moving at a whirlwind pace grabbed his arm, urging him on in a rapid-fire burst of words:
“Zong Mo! What are you still doing standing there like an idiot? CEO Ruan has been waiting for you for ages. Come on, this way, this way.”

Zong Mo, completely bewildered, was led by the woman through the crowd. After a dizzying moment, the music and chatter in his ears vanished. It was quiet. The mahogany door in front of him was also quietly closed.

The silence was broken by the woman’s knock.
“CEO Ruan?”

There was no answer.

After knocking, the woman didn’t wait. She tossed out a curt, “Go on in,” then turned and left.

Zong Mo: ?

He tried the handle; the door was unlocked. Outside, a lingering scent of perfume hung in the air, but inside, the smell of alcohol was overwhelming.

Surprisingly, in the enormous private room, there was only one person.
A man, sitting at the far side of a round table, bathed in a warm, yellow spotlight.

Zong Mo had no idea where he was or what was happening. The woman who brought him here was gone, so he had no choice but to approach the man and try to ask him.

The direct overhead light cast deep shadows on the man’s face, blurring most of it into darkness. Only by getting closer could one see that the two large shadows on his cheekbones came from his long, thick eyelashes. The shadows in his eye sockets were also deep, and only the elegant tip of his nose was brightly lit.

The man raised his head, letting the light reflect in his beautiful peach blossom eyes, and said only, “Sit.”

Zong Mo walked over and sat down in the seat beside him, about to ask his questions.

The man raised his glass and took a large gulp. Zong Mo noticed a mole on the bone of his left wrist and suddenly forgot what he was going to ask.

He recalled how the woman had addressed the man, and had just uttered the word “Ruan,” when the man called out a name first: “Lu Bo.”

His voice was hoarse, as if it had been rubbed raw, and thick with intoxication.
It made one wonder how many times he had sat here alone, calling out that name.

Lu Bo?

The name was like a crystal-clear clue, instantly dispelling the chaotic fog in Zong Mo’s mind.

He had recently read a BL novel where the main gong was named Lu Bo. The main reason he remembered it so clearly was because the main shou—who was originally straight but was “turned” gay—shared his name. As a total top himself, he had found that rather uncomfortable.

But he couldn’t resist how melodramatic and addictive the novel was, and had read it to the end anyway.

Although it was a 1v1 pure love story, it was filled with all sorts of love battlefields. Among the five gongs, each with a different personality, the overbearing CEO, Gong #2 Ruan Chi, had been pining for the main gong, Lu Bo, for years. That was already ridiculous enough.

What was even more ridiculous was that he had also sponsored the main shou to keep him as a substitute for the main gong.

The main shou, as a substitute for the main gong.

Zong Mo mentally typed out a question mark.

He had thought the book might take an incestuous turn, but it never crossed that moral line. The main shou and the main gong looked nothing alike, nor did they have any blood relation.

So why did Ruan Chi treat the main shou as a substitute for the main gong?

The novel, focused on piling on the melodrama with all logic thrown out the window, offered no explanation, only claiming that Ruan Chi wasn’t blind.

Zong Mo didn’t quite believe it, but the CEO Ruan before him indeed wasn’t blind. In fact, his eyes were beautifully shaped, the corners tinged with red.

CEO Ruan was Ruan Chi.
Which meant this Zong Mo was that Zong Mo.

Zong Mo was speechless for a moment. As expected, you really shouldn’t read novels where a character shares your name. You’ll transmigrate.

Zong Mo quickly sorted through the plot. Ruan Chi was his sponsor and boss, and for a long time, his entire support system. He was currently a “resource celeb” with terrible acting skills. If he were to leave his sponsor, the only thing awaiting him was the embrace of the main gong, the film emperor.

That plot development was absolutely unacceptable.

If he wanted to break away from his sponsor and make it on his own in the entertainment industry, he would have to use the path his sponsor had already paved for him to grow his wings.

At least this novel was from a “clean” pure love site, so the sponsor and the main shou had lived together for years without him ever being touched. Zong Mo wasn’t too worried about suddenly being bottomed. He decided to first stop his backer from drinking himself into a stupor before considering his next steps.

He took the wine glass from Ruan Chi’s limp fingers and advised, “Don’t drink anymore.”

Ruan Chi didn’t agree, nor did he resist.

Zong Mo observed his expression and noticed a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. His cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, but his lips were pale.

Ruan Chi squinted, probably trying hard to make out the person in front of him. Before he could see clearly, he arched his back and sucked in a sharp breath.

Zong Mo’s living conditions hadn’t been great when he was a child, so he was quite familiar with Ruan Chi’s state. He raised a hand to his back and asked, “Stomachache?”

Ruan Chi let out a soft “Mm” through his nose.

It looked like his chronic stomach problem was acting up. Drinking himself silly with a bad stomach… he didn’t know why a rich man like him was so eager to shorten his own life.

Zong Mo scanned the area. On the enormous round table, besides bottles and glasses, there was no food whatsoever. Not even water.

Helpless, he resorted to physical therapy, suggesting, “Should I rub it for you?”

Ruan Chi was having trouble even sitting up straight. Zong Mo had to bring his hand over, find his upper abdomen, and felt a hard knot. He figured it was probably a stomach spasm, which was manageable. A little warmth and rubbing would relieve it quickly.

As he massaged, the abdomen gradually softened.

Zong Mo looked up and met Ruan Chi’s gaze, unsure if he had been recognized.

The main door was suddenly pushed open. The woman who had brought Zong Mo here had returned. She paid little attention to their intimate, almost-hugging posture and simply urged:
“It’s getting late. Take CEO Ruan home, the driver is waiting in the garage. I still have to go fight for a job for you, so I’m leaving first. You better pull your weight.”

Pull his weight… what did that mean?

Zong Mo mulled over the rules of the adult world. This woman was probably his manager. What she meant was that he should perform well, please his sponsor, and get more rewards from him.

It was just that realistic.

Zong Mo nodded in agreement. He turned his head to see that Ruan Chi had already propped himself up using the chair back, not needing his help at all.

Zong Mo didn’t believe someone that drunk could walk properly on his own. He approached uncertainly and asked, “Should I help you?”

Ruan Chi looked at him again, frowning slightly.

Seeing Ruan Chi pause, Zong Mo lifted one of his arms and draped it over his own shoulder, supporting him as they walked out.

The woman hadn’t left yet. She pointed the way for him. “Go this way, take the staff elevator to the first basement level. There aren’t many people over there.”

Ruan Chi’s home was a vintage-style villa. Ivy-covered red brick walls stood tall; a boundless green lawn was spread out extravagantly, reeking of capitalist waste.

The chauffeur-driven car passed directly through the towering metal gates, crossed the grand courtyard, and stopped before the villa’s heavy double doors.

Zong Mo got out of the car first to take a look. They were only a few steps from home, but there were still several stairs to climb, which would be a considerable challenge for a drunk.

So, he turned back to Ruan Chi and once again slung the man’s arm over his shoulder.

This was his first time taking care of such a troublesome adult, but Ruan Chi didn’t seem to be putting much weight on him. He was mostly walking on his own two feet, so it wasn’t too strenuous.

The double doors opened to a brilliantly lit interior. The lights in the living room and hallways were all on. Zong Mo suspected these lights were never turned off. After all, there wasn’t a single human sound in the house, only the lonely glow of the lamps.

The house was huge and empty, and despite being bright, it still felt eerie.

He first dumped the drowsy Ruan Chi onto the sofa and then went to check each room, one by one, to avoid blowing his cover later. According to the novel’s plot, he had lived in Ruan Chi’s house for three years, so of course he should be extremely familiar with the place.

On the second-floor hallway, only two bedrooms had their lights on. He quickly confirmed that Ruan Chi’s room was the master bedroom with the large balcony, and the smaller one next to it must be his own. As a celebrity, after all, his room contained a lot of his own merchandise.

It was the first time Zong Mo had seen his own face printed on cards and posters, and he stared at them with curiosity for a few extra moments. So the original shou looked exactly like him. No wonder he had transmigrated.

Even having read the entire novel, Zong Mo wasn’t sure if Ruan Chi actually liked the main shou. In the end, Ruan Chi didn’t get anyone, but he had contributed quite a bit to turning the main shou gay and pushing him towards the main gong.

Living together for three years without even holding hands, yet placing the man in the room right next to his.
…Was he really not worried about embarrassing noises in the night?

Zong Mo’s thoughts drifted. It took him a while to finally haul the drunkard into the bedroom.

Ruan Chi had been half-asleep the entire way back. Now, being carried up to the second floor and tossed onto the bed was not a small movement, and he finally woke up, uncomfortable. As soon as he opened those not-blind eyes, he blindly called out, “Lu Bo?”

Zong Mo curled the fingers he had been about to release, gripping the man’s shoulder.

The “substitute” trope was fun to read, but experiencing it firsthand was not a pleasant feeling.

He lowered his voice and said, “Take a good look. Who am I?”

“You know who Lu Bo is?” Ruan Chi stared at him for another moment, his eyes hazy with drink, his voice growing mumbled. “Get out. I’m tired.”

“Of course I know who Lu Bo is.” A wicked idea suddenly struck Zong Mo. He said maliciously, “Because I am Lu Bo.”

Ruan Chi forced his closed eyelids open again, frowning as he looked at him.

Zong Mo reached out a finger and pressed it to the space between his brows, smoothing out the frown lines. His fingertip traced along the brow bone, down his cheek, and finally, he cupped the man’s feverishly hot face with his whole hand.

This face, no matter how you looked at it, didn’t seem like one that could top anyone…

A sudden realization hit Zong Mo. Ruan Chi was in love with the main gong but couldn’t have him, so he found the main shou as a substitute but never touched him. Perhaps it was because…

Ruan Chi was an overbearing CEO. He couldn’t bring himself to admit that he was a 0 (bottom).
The original main shou was also a 0. Their roles overlapped.

Well, wasn’t this a coincidence? The version of him that transmigrated happened to be a pure 1 (top).

Zong Mo smiled at the dazed man. “CEO Ruan, it’s been so many years. Don’t you think it’s time we did what we’re supposed to do?”

Naturally, Zong Mo wasn’t the type of person to disregard someone’s physical condition before getting down to business.

He splashed some water on his face and left, going downstairs to find the kitchen.

The kitchen was impossible to miss. It was enormous and eye-catching, with an open-plan Western-style section, a semi-enclosed Chinese-style section, and an extravagant bar and wine cabinet. Above the meters-long countertop was a huge window facing the scenic courtyard, and next to it was a door that led out to a terrace for a breath of fresh air.

An dazzling array of exquisite tableware decorated the kitchen beautifully, but it lacked a certain lived-in warmth. All sorts of appliances and cookware were present, yet they were spotlessly clean.

Zong Mo looked around and noticed the built-in steam oven he had been dreaming of for ages. He finally couldn’t resist walking over to have a look.
He reached out and touched it—the protective plastic film hadn’t even been peeled off.

Zong Mo: …

This kitchen made his mouth water, but now wasn’t the time to study the mansion. He found the pressure cooker and the area where rice and flour were stored, quickly cooked a bowl of millet porridge, and carried it upstairs.

The room was extravagantly heated in the early autumn. By the time he returned, Ruan Chi had already taken off his jacket and trousers on his own, leaving only a white shirt on as he hugged the quilt.

Zong Mo walked over, nonchalantly shifting his gaze to Ruan Chi’s face, and said, “Eat something before you sleep, or your stomach will hurt again.”

Ruan Chi obediently sat up. His two smooth legs were bent at a ninety-degree angle, long and slender, his knees nearly reaching his collarbone.
The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a section of his collarbone.

Ruan Chi had sat up, but he raised a hand to cover his face, running it up through his hair. His voice was slightly irritated. “Why are you here again?”

Zong Mo sat down on the edge of the bed, presenting the bowl of porridge to him. “I made you some porridge.”

Ruan Chi: …

With his hands now free, Zong Mo had nothing to do and nowhere to look, so he watched Ruan Chi sip the porridge in small mouthfuls.
Aside from not spilling it everywhere, his speed was not much faster than a three-year-old’s.

Eating slowly was one thing, but he also wasn’t dressed properly.
Zong Mo couldn’t stand it anymore. He snatched the spoon and said, “I’ll feed you.”

Feeding him porridge was also an ordeal.

When he was drinking the porridge himself, Ruan Chi’s eyes were fixed on the bowl.
Now that someone was feeding him, his eyes were fixed on the person in front of him instead.

The small white porcelain bowl was finally empty.

Zong Mo had fed his younger brothers and sisters at the orphanage plenty of times, but never had it been as exhausting as this, leaving him breathing heavily.
The more those peach blossom eyes stared at him, the heavier his breathing became.

He couldn’t help but ask, “Why do you keep staring at me?”

Hadn’t he had enough of looking at the main shou for two years?
Judging from the photos in the room, he and the main shou looked almost identical; even he couldn’t tell the difference.

Or was he mistaking him for Lu Bo?

Being mistaken for anyone made Zong Mo unhappy. But the person before him was just a paper-thin character from a book, one of the supporting gongs.
If he wanted to destroy the main shou‘s script, there was an extremely simple and crude method. And looking at this face, he wasn’t particularly opposed to it.

Ruan Chi was still staring straight at him, seemingly without any defenses.

Zong Mo decided to put the troublesome bowl aside and leaned his own face in closer.
“Recognized who I am yet?”

Ruan Chi suddenly smiled.

Zong Mo, trying to communicate with the drunkard in a deadpan manner, asked, “What are you smiling about?”

In truth, Zong Mo wasn’t entirely sure how a drunk person was supposed to act.
Vacant eyes, a flush spreading from the cheeks all the way to the base of the neck, and the faint smell of alcohol on his breath… those should all be signs of intoxication.
Add to that the inexplicable smile, and he was definitely drunk.

But after that smile, Ruan Chi spoke with perfect clarity, “Are you trying to sleep with me?”

Zong Mo was stunned. The thought of bolting from the room flashed through his mind.

But Ruan Chi didn’t pull away, maintaining the ten-centimeter distance between them, their breaths mingling.
A moment later, he tilted his neck, moving even closer.

It seemed like an invitation to a kiss.

Author’s Note:
At this moment, little Mo is still completely unaware of CEO Ruan’s true nature.