Ji Zhi said, “Exactly what you’re thinking.”
Chen Xingwen’s eyes widened in shock. “…”
Even though it wasn’t his first time being stunned like this, Chen Xingwen’s silence lasted just as long as ever.
It was really Duan Zhao?
So the person who’d called him at noon today was Duan Zhao?!
He finally understood the well-meaning advice behind Ji Zhi telling him to eat first—after all, he couldn’t even think about food right now.
It took Ji Zhi quite a while this time to snap Chen Xingwen out of it.
In the meantime, he replied to Duan Zhao’s message, letting the man know he’d made it back to the dorm safely.
【Top Fan #2: I’ll wear the glasses you picked out for me later】
Even though it had been Top Fan #2 who’d footed the bill, the guy clearly saw Ji Zhi’s selections as part of the gift-giving process.
Ji Zhi hadn’t expected Duan Zhao to like them so much. He couldn’t help but wonder if his sense of style had leveled up big time.
Chen Xingwen seemed to think of something. “What about your internship…?”
He recalled Ji Zhi mentioning that he’d spotted Duan Zhao at the company and guessed that Duan Zhao was the real boss behind Stellar Entertainment.
Ji Zhi felt a headache coming on too.
He’d been mulling this over the whole way back, but luckily Duan Zhao hadn’t looked into him yet, so the man still had no idea.
The safe play would be to quit, but leaving aside how much Ji Zhi actually enjoyed the job, even an intern had to give notice and go through the proper channels. Quitting abruptly might land him on some industry blacklist.
Translating had always been his dream career, and he didn’t want to blow his shot.
Ji Zhi figured Duan Zhao had so many businesses under his name that the man might not show up at the company again anytime soon. He could use this time to stick with Yao Shan, finish filming the variety show, add some shine to his resume, and then bounce.
On the bright side, maybe Duan Zhao would lose interest in him soon, and he wouldn’t have to leave at all. He could just keep working there…
Chen Xingwen realized Ji Zhi had already given this some thought.
Ji Zhi had originally worried that hauling in all these bags would catch Fu Huixu’s eye.
But his concerns were for nothing. When he entered the dorm, Fu Huixu was on the phone.
The guy must have figured he wasn’t around, since he hadn’t retreated into his sectioned-off area like before. When he noticed someone coming in, Fu Huixu glanced up briefly before looking away.
The call was short to begin with, so even after spotting Ji Zhi, Fu Huixu didn’t budge. Instead, he said into the phone, “No need to look into it anymore.”
“He says his throat’s much better. No need to send the family doctor.”
Ji Zhi hadn’t been interested in Fu Huixu’s call at first, but this made him freeze in his tracks.
Wait, was Fu Huixu saying what he thought he was?
If he hadn’t told the man today that his throat was feeling a lot better, would Fu Huixu have tracked his location and sent a doctor after him?
Ji Zhi’s heart skipped a beat. He never imagined he’d unwittingly danced right on the edge of having his cover blown.
Looks like he couldn’t use illness as an excuse to brush off Fu Huixu anymore.
Feeling relieved, Ji Zhi decided he’d tell Fu Huixu tomorrow that he was fully recovered.
Fu Huixu shifted gears, moving on to next week’s schedule.
With another livestream coming up next week, Ji Zhi planned to do it while the guy was out, so he pretended to be busy stowing away Duan Zhao’s gifts while listening intently.
Fu Huixu’s plans for next week were pretty much the same as this one—back and forth between school and the company, only returning to the dorm at night. But there was one addition: a trip home for his grandfather’s birthday banquet.
Ji Zhi committed it all to memory, so he could dodge Fu Huixu completely.
The call wrapped up faster than Ji Zhi expected—about ten minutes, clean and straightforward, with no real inflection in Fu Huixu’s voice.
Ji Zhi couldn’t help recalling the calls he’d made to Fu Huixu as Zhi Zhi. Those always ran at least an hour, only ending when one of them had something come up. They’d hang up reluctantly, one murmuring “Baby” as they did.
Back when Ji Zhi didn’t know Top Fan No.1’s real identity, he’d chalked it up to the guy being lonely.
Now he saw it: Fu Huixu didn’t lack for company at all. He just didn’t want it.
As for next week’s livestream content, Ji Zhi was stumped.
Crossdressing streams and sleep-aid streams were easy—the viewers tipped gifts to vote on the setlist, and he just followed the order.
But gaming streams? He had to pick the games himself.
Competitive games weren’t his strong suit, and he had to think about entertainment value too, so he always went for thrilling niche single-player titles that not many people played.
With all those constraints, choosing games always gave him a headache.
He’d already played through all the ones the viewers had recommended, leaving him slim pickings.
Luckily, that’s when the Tidal Echoes devs reached out.
Tidal Echoes was that horror puzzle single-player game he’d cleared mutually with the fans, even using his likeness. It had shed its obscurity and gained real buzz.
Riding the wave, the studio was launching a two-player co-op mode. Besides the protagonist, you could play as Ji Zhi, the second-most popular character.
Having tasted success, the studio wanted Ji Zhi to preview the co-op mode in a livestream before launch—for promo purposes. They’d pay him for it too.
It was exactly what he needed, so Ji Zhi agreed right away.
But since it was co-op, he’d need a partner.
Chen Xingwen didn’t game, so he was out.
Ji Zhi didn’t know any streamers well enough to invite one…
Then it hit him: Top Fan #3.
The guy was familiar with him, had played Tidal Echoes, and they’d done linked streams before—they had chemistry. Perfect fit.
With that in mind, Ji Zhi messaged Top Fan #3 right away, asking if he was free that day for a co-op stream. He’d split the studio’s payout 50/50 as thanks.
Top Fan #3 took a while to reply.
【Top Fan #3: Bro, I was working and couldn’t check my phone. Just saw your message—are you finally doing a two-player collab?!】
【Top Fan #3: I’m in! Of course I’m in!!!】
【Top Fan #3: Bro, sorry I replied late. You didn’t ask someone else, right? Don’t ditch me for another guy…】
【Top Fan #3: Bro QAQ】
【Top Fan #3: If you picked someone else, can you at least tell me who? TAT】
Ji Zhi: “…..”
He just wanted a gaming buddy, but Top Fan #3 was throwing around words like “ditch,” like he was off cheating instead of streaming.
Top Fan #3 had fired off so many messages at once that it took Ji Zhi a minute to read them all.
He thought that was it, but another one popped up:
【Top Fan #3: Bro, if you picked someone else, I won’t let them off easy】
Ji Zhi paused.
Top Fan #3 had said stuff like that before, but always with cute emotes or stickers. This time, it was just the bare words.
