Yan Chuan looked at Qi Yan, who did not mention the word “forest” but rather said,
“The edge of the studio.”
The studio? Is it the studio he is thinking about?
Yan Chuan felt his eyes widen in disbelief.
Because the next moment, the distant forest, stretching to the horizon, was pulled down and fell limply to the ground.
The gray-blue skyline was revealed, showcasing a barren mountain in the distance.
It was like a canvas, or rather, a backdrop commonly used in studios to disguise rough outdoor scenery.
But how could there be studio props in the vacation villa where he was participating in a live broadcast?
Yan Chuan turned his gaze toward Qi Yan.
The latter wore his usual indifferent expression, his gaze cold as if he looked at everything the same way.
But those eyes were now fixed on him.
“This place is,” Yan Chuan pressed his lips together, “What exactly is this place?”
He was asking what “studio” meant.
Although he didn’t articulate it clearly, Qi Yan probably understood his meaning.
Qi Yan replied straightforwardly, “This is the end of the K City studio; outside is the real world.”
Yan Chuan’s fingertips twitched slightly at his side.
What does that mean?
The real world? What is the real world?
With these questions in mind, Yan Chuan didn’t bother to ask Qi Yan further and walked a little towards the “canvas.”
Through the edge of the sky curtain, he saw a radiant “sun” slowly rising.
The “sun” was suspended by machinery, gradually lifting into the air, quickly illuminating the gray-blue skyline, reminiscent of noon.
Beneath the artificial sun was a space resembling an office, incongruous with the surroundings. Staff members, dressed in various styles, were calibrating equipment, recording parameters, or discussing with what seemed like documents in hand.
It was like a typical work scene, with their discussions appearing calm, right in front of the bright screen.
Even after spotting them, they maintained their composure, displaying no awareness of being observed.
Some even enthusiastically greeted Yan Chuan after making eye contact with him without a hint of shyness.
The big screen directly faced Yan Chuan, displaying glaring large characters:
“Welcome to the Real-Life Live Show.”
Below that were scenes that had previously appeared in his live streams, replaying in a loop.
Yan Chuan couldn’t help but glance back toward the villa.
He could still see the villa’s shadow through the lush branches, reassured that the organizers’ staff would certainly not be in the opposite direction.
Those outside… are they really the staff of the live broadcast show?
In other words, he himself is a participant in the live show?
But isn’t he also a contestant on the escape variety show?
Yan Chuan was confused; he could only vacantly shift his gaze back to Qi Yan.
“Are they also filming personnel?” was the only question he could muster, unsure of everything he saw.
Qi Yan gave him a confirmed answer, “Yes.”
Yan Chuan began to understand a bit.
The ones inside are the filming crew for the live broadcast, and outside are also filming personnel.
Yan Chuan suddenly realized something.
He was now in the script’s K City, as a minor streamer, but K City was also a large filming location.
So where are all the viewers in his live broadcast coming from? Do they realize they are also in a script?
K City has so many residents, and even the streamers on the platform are countless. Every day they go about their lives, are they all in the narrative of a script?
What then does it make him—a participant in an escape variety show, live-streaming for an audience whose identity he doesn’t know?
Yan Chuan gazed at the obviously well-set studio in the distance, momentarily lost in thought.
He didn’t know the answers to these questions, but he stood at the junction of K City and the studio, behind him were seemingly oblivious contestants.
“Why tell me?” Yan Chuan hesitated, glancing towards the direction of the villa behind him.
Was he being brought here to see the studio to learn something?
Was it to make him question why he was in the escape variety show script?
He lowered his eyelids, catching a glimpse of his delicate, slightly blushed fingertips, then looked again at Qi Yan’s sharply defined profile.
Suddenly, a large shadow fell onto the ground as Qi Yan leaned close.
Yan Chuan was still hesitating, unable to evade in time as the tall man drew near.
A warm breath cascaded over his cheek, freezing Yan Chuan in place.
Because Qi Yan leaned into his ear and whispered something to him.
[Hidden Script? There’s more to this?]
[I never saw this ending when I read the script before; it’s my first time seeing it.]
[What is this, an escape variety show version of The Truman Show?]
[Ahhh, Yan Bao is about to go offline! How long until the next live broadcast?!]
[What did he say to his wife in the end? I really couldn’t hear; when she comes out, please tell us! Crying face emoji.]
The noise from the outside world suddenly rose before calming down in an instant, silent enough to hear a pin drop.
A familiar mechanical voice rang in Yan Chuan’s ear.
[Script: Live Battle is over; main mission: Become the most famous streamer completed; side mission assessment completed, hidden task completed.]
[Contestant ID 43786, script identity: Apparently silent and introverted, secretly a cross-dressing streamer at a small company.]
[Role-playing degree: 100%]
[Task completion rate: 100%]
[Gained achievements: Most Popular Streamer, Sweetheart Baiter, Fish-Cultivating Expert, stacked with the buff that everyone likes him, no conflict with already gained achievements.]
[Total points: Accumulated a total of 13,000 points, still 87,000 points to go; please continue to work hard, contestant 43786.]
The mechanical voice was exceptionally flat, yet Yan Chuan felt as if he had heard some heavenly sound.