Ji Zhi was in the middle of a live stream.
The camera captured his current appearance.
His black hair cascaded like silk over his shoulders, making his skin seem even fairer and more translucent. A lace ribbon studded with pearls bound his swan-like neck.
A simple white gown outlined his slender figure, but it could not conceal his innate refinement. Beneath slender brows lay a pair of eyes as clear as spring water, a straight nose bridge, and rose-colored lips—like a still ink painting.
When he read the comments, his long lashes trembled lightly, like feathers brushing gently against the viewer’s heart and stirring a faint itch.
The live stream chat was buzzing:
—OMG, just checked the host’s profile and realized he’s actually a guy!
—When’s Zhi Zhi doing a fan meet? My lightstick is fully charged!
—I remember this is the dress Zhi Zhi wore when he first started streaming. It’s back as a one-million-fan welfare gift!
—How many fans do you need to see the host in guy’s clothes?
…
Although it was past the scheduled end time, to celebrate hitting five hundred thousand fans today, Ji Zhi decided to stick around a bit longer and chat with his viewers.
The stream now had sixty thousand viewers, with comments flying thick and fast.
Ji Zhi’s eyes swam with the flood of messages. He filtered out the face-simp ones and the spicy stuff, reading only the most repeated, relatively tame comments while occasionally thanking gift donors.
In a soft, gentle voice, Ji Zhi said, “You like today’s dress? Thank you…”
“What’s the link for this dress? Sorry, it’s been a while, and I’ve forgotten the exact shop. You can all screenshot my outfit and use image search.”
“Why didn’t Default Bro, our top donator, show up today? He might have something going on. I’m not sure…”
No sooner had he spoken than the chat exploded with a dazzling barrage:
【User 356789123 has entered the live stream】
【User 356789123 gifted “Zhi Belongs to You” x100】
【User 356789123: Congrats on one million fans】
Thanks to the user’s high level, his entrance came with flashy effects that drew every eye in the stream. And with the gifts he sent, the entire screen filled with cute chibi versions of a little white-dress figure. Once the effects faded, the comments went utterly wild:
—AAAAH, it’s Default Bro!!!
—Top donator arrives fashionably late
—First time in the stream and everyone’s losing it? Why Default Bro? What’s “Zhi Belongs to You”? Never seen that gift in other streams
—Above: Default Bro because his username is the default one. He only donates in Zhi Zhi’s stream and has held #1 for ages. “Zhi Belongs to You” is a platform-exclusive effect made for the host after he broke donation records. Each one’s worth about ten thousand RMB
—So 100 is a million? 666, total whale! But yeah, that face is worth it
—Platform-wide broadcast. I saw it in other streams. What stream is this?!
…
Ji Zhi was just about to thank him when the user left the stream.
Though the chat had veered off into Default Bro talk, Ji Zhi interacted a little longer before bidding everyone goodbye one by one and ending the stream.
After logging off, Ji Zhi finally let out a long breath.
He swiftly removed the black wig, shed the gown, and changed into a T-shirt and shorts. He slipped on his black-rimmed glasses.
Ji Zhi glanced at the mirror. It now reflected his everyday look.
Slightly long black bangs obscured his brows and eyes. The thick lenses hid those pretty dark eyes. The oversized black frames covered most of his face, and when he tilted his head down slightly, the reflective lenses masked his expression.
This was Ji Zhi’s disguise.
He had grown adept at concealing his looks, and so far, no one had connected him to the streamer Zhi Zhi.
Back in his familiar getup, Ji Zhi collapsed wearily onto the bed.
After all, this was his third stream of the day—and the last one.
That’s right. Ji Zhi had done three streams today, across three different platforms, using different accounts.
It all started back in June after the college entrance exams.
Ji Zhi’s parents had passed away early, leaving just enough inheritance to raise him to adulthood. University tuition and living expenses became his most pressing problem.
Desperate for cash, Ji Zhi couldn’t find a summer job, but he spotted recruitment ads from guilds and platforms.
What drew him weren’t promises of resources or one-on-one coaching, but the guarantee of a base salary for the first three months as long as he streamed a fixed number of hours daily.
He applied and got hired without issue.
As it turned out, the hype was misleading. The base pay existed but fell short of the advertised amount: two thousand RMB a month for six hours a day.
Luckily, to maximize his earnings, Ji Zhi had signed with three different platforms or guilds. He figured they handled different content and wouldn’t notice the overlap. Three streams a day meant six thousand a month. Once the three months were up, he’d bail.
Sure, it meant eighteen hours of streaming daily, but it was the best gig he could find.
What Ji Zhi hadn’t anticipated was how quickly all three accounts blew up, drawing whale donations that shattered platform records.
Even after the platform and guild cuts, it was still a hefty sum for him.
Fortunately, though his fanbases grew on all three, the vastly different content kept anyone from linking the accounts.
Still, besides the fear of his identity leaking, what truly gave Ji Zhi chills were his three platforms’ Top Fans.
Streamers had to maintain relationships off-stream, so Ji Zhi had added plenty of big tippers—including all three #1s.
Yet these three #1s were clearly men, and their obsession with him, a fellow guy, left straight-as-an-arrow Ji Zhi’s scalp crawling.
He’d considered quitting, but back when he was a small streamer, the guild and platform might’ve let him go. Now, as a big one, they saw him as a cash cow and wouldn’t release him without a breach penalty that’d bankrupt him.
Between debt and streaming, Ji Zhi chose the latter.
The contracts were short-term anyway; a few more months and he’d be free.
Normally, he’d message User 356789123 after streaming, but when he checked their chat history and recalled the guy’s heads-up last night about being busy today—plus how he’d dipped out of the stream fast—Ji Zhi decided not to bother him.
With a mental sigh, Ji Zhi switched WeChat accounts and messaged the contact labeled Chen Xingwen.
【Ji Zhi: You can come over now】
Minutes later, a knock sounded at the dorm door. As Ji Zhi rose to open it, Chen Xingwen shot inside like a bolt of lightning, familiarly stripping off his short-sleeved shirt and plopping onto a chair in just his shorts.
Ji Zhi was used to it. He casually closed the door that Chen Xingwen hadn’t bothered to shut.
Chen Xingwen and Ji Zhi had been childhood neighbors, both growing up in C City. They’d known each other forever and were close. A year older, Chen Xingwen had gotten into a university in A City first and was now in a different major from Ji Zhi—computer science for him, foreign languages for Ji Zhi. Still, they shared some general electives.
Chen Xingwen knew about Ji Zhi’s streaming since they hung out so much, but he had zero interest in it. He never pried for account details or promo help and even covered for Ji Zhi’s skipped classes sometimes.
Ji Zhi knew Chen Xingwen was only into 2D girls and ignored pretty much everything else. He had no doubt that even if he told the guy one day he was an alien, Chen Xingwen wouldn’t bat an eye. Besides, after more than a decade of friendship, Ji Zhi trusted his secrecy completely.
It was late October, but the weather had suddenly turned scorching. With only Ji Zhi’s dorm building having AC, his status in Chen Xingwen’s eyes had upgraded from friend to lifesaver. The guy visited daily like a frequent flyer.
He hated the heat with a passion, had just played basketball, and Ji Zhi’s AC was his salvation.
Today, he’d gotten Ji Zhi’s message about the stream and could only come late.
After basking in the cool air for a good while, Chen Xingwen finally spoke up. “I’m dying of heat. Saved at last!”
“Your dorm’s AC is insane. Feels like leaving a crack could trigger an ice age…”
Ji Zhi replied, “The outfit I wore earlier wasn’t very breathable, so I cranked it low. Want me to turn up the temp?”
The white dress was one he’d bought early in his streaming days. To cut costs, he’d gone for the cheapest option, so the fabric and ventilation sucked.
He wouldn’t have dug it out again if not for the fan welfare promise.
Chen Xingwen waved it off. “Nah, I need to stockpile some cold air.”
As he spoke, a wave of grief hit him. “Why does only your building have AC? I was spamming that fascia gun on my screen and still didn’t snag one…”
Ji Zhi felt lucky on that front too.
After starting university, he’d planned to move out for streaming privacy.
He couldn’t risk doing it in the dorm.
He’d asked upperclassmen and learned the dorms were usually four- to six-person rooms. Their department didn’t check strictly, so off-campus renting was fine. He’d picked his dorm assignment casually and missed the standard ones.
To his surprise, he ended up in one of the school’s rare double rooms—scarce, with private bath, AC, and ample space. Nicknamed the presidential suite.
It tempted him. Off-campus housing nearby was either pricey or inconvenient for classes.
Best of all, his roommate didn’t live there, so Ji Zhi had the luxury pad to himself.
Confirming the roommate was off-site, he scrapped the renting plan and streamed from the dorm.
With no one else around, Chen Xingwen could drop by anytime.
Lately, with the heat wave, the guy sometimes crashed there.
Two beds, one unused.
Ji Zhi thought of something. “Staying over tonight?”
“No can do. Not anymore. Bed checks are starting.” Chen Xingwen gritted his teeth, forcing out the words.
Ji Zhi blinked. “? What do you mean?”
Chen Xingwen looked at him in confusion. “Didn’t your counselor notify you?”
“One of the students renting off-campus got into an accident. Word is, their parents showed up at the school and caused a huge scene. To make sure nothing like that happens again, they’re now requiring counselors from every college to personally check the dorms…”
Ji Zhi: !!!
His heart skipped a beat as the gravity of the situation sank in. He hurriedly pulled out his phone.
Sure enough, just a few minutes earlier, their class monitor had forwarded the counselor’s notice in the group chat. The details matched what Chen Xingwen had described almost exactly: starting tonight, the counselor would conduct personal dorm checks. No one could live off-campus without a special reason—even those already renting outside needed to apply in advance and get approval first.
Ji Zhi’s heart plummeted.
Did that mean his roommate was coming back?!
How on earth was he supposed to keep live streaming…?
Sure, according to his contract, he didn’t have to stream every single day after the first three months. But he still needed to go live at least once a week.
His foreign languages major was packed with classes, all in small cohorts that made skipping impossible. He could only squeeze in streaming sessions during whatever scraps of free time he had.
Even if he wanted to move out right now, it would take time to find a place—and then he’d have to get that off-campus permit approved.
Chen Xingwen, who’d just been lamenting the loss of air conditioning, suddenly caught on. He whipped his head toward Ji Zhi. “What about your streams?”
“I remember your roommate’s Fu Huixu, right…?”
Chen Xingwen had never actually met Ji Zhi’s roommate, but the name had stuck with him.
After all, Fu Huixu was something of a celebrity on campus.
