Já foi famoso e agora escreve sobre entretenimento?

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I’ve transmigrated—can you believe it? Yu Wei never imagined that even a writer like himself could experience such a thing...
He had personally orchestrated countless transmigration ceremonies for male protagonists, and now, finally, his own turn had come.
How he transmigrated was unclear, but this new identity was undeniable: still named Yu Wei, but no longer a writer—instead, he was a nobody at the bottom rung of the entertainment industry.
In his past life, Yu Wei wrote mostly entertainment novels; who would have thought he’d actually become a star?
Looking in the mirror, he saw a refined and delicate face. Though his hair was utterly flattened and messy, that face somehow still carried an unkempt charm.
Modeling was fine, but the economic status and rank were terrifyingly low—after four years since debuting as a star, he had no savings left...
“A poet in hand!”
Even as an artist, he was better off when he was a total flop.
Writing about entertainment and being a star—can those two compare? Stars only need to sing, dance, act, have commercial value, backing from capital, speak cautiously, please fans, and maintain their public image. But a novelist must consider so much more...
Someone like him, with no connections, no capital, no talent or gifts, and no social skills—a mere ornament—was just a stray dog on the street in the entertainment world.
Having seen pigs run and tasted pork—how could those be the same?
Forget about becoming famous; with his current profile, he would probably be kicked out a