Chapter 19: Baby, I Miss You So Much

Ji Zhi quickly caught on. “I remember now. You told me you have a brother who plays this game too—the L account, right?”

“Never mind that. Let’s focus on the game for now. Everyone’s waiting to see the new ending. I hear a few of them involve stories about what happens to the two characters after they grow up. Hopefully we can unlock one with a future storyline…”

Ji Zhi knew this wasn’t the moment to clear things up.

They were in the middle of a livestream, after all, one meant to promote the game. He couldn’t let anything else steal the viewers’ attention.

On top of that, anything the Top Fan No. 3 account said right now could be twisted into an attack. Ji Zhi decided to wait until after the stream ended before addressing it with him. For the time being, he told a white lie.

Sure enough, his words pulled the audience’s focus back to the game.

After all, none of the original endings in Tidal Echoes had ever shown what became of the protagonists in the future.

Top Fan No. 3’s mood sank noticeably, though. He barely said a word for the rest of the session.

The two of them did manage to unlock the future ending the viewers had been hoping for—

Once the truth behind the town’s bizarre incidents came to light, the place returned to its former tranquility. The protagonists grew up and left town together, but they headed to different cities. They kept in touch by phone and text, but the distance between them only grew over time.

Ji Zhi: “…”

What a realistic ending.

There were other endings in the game, but a glance at the clock told Ji Zhi they were out of time to unlock more. He spoke up. “This one’s a little bittersweet. I hear the others are happier.”

“But we’re short on time today, so I’m signing off. You’ll have to discover the rest on your own. The game officially launches next month—pre-order it on this platform in advance…”

After dropping another plug, Ji Zhi said goodbye to his livestream audience and went offline.

The moment he ended the stream, his phone rang with an incoming voice call from Top Fan No. 3.

Ji Zhi had planned to tidy up and change clothes first, but with the call coming in, he answered while getting changed.

As soon as he picked up, Top Fan No. 3’s uneasy voice came through from the other end. “Bro, I’m sorry. I can explain about the L thing.”

“Back then, I loved that game so much. The protagonist felt just like me, so I replayed it over and over even after beating it. When they announced a major new character, I couldn’t stand it. I gave in and registered a Twitter account using my agent’s login to post that message…”

According to Top Fan No. 3, he’d been purely disgusted by the new NPC at the time. That’s why he’d borrowed his agent’s account to make the post.

Later, his agent worried about his identity getting exposed and deleted the account.

But once the NPC went live, Top Fan No. 3 fell hard for the character. He created his own separate Twitter account dedicated to fan content for Ji Zhi. It wasn’t until he saw comments mentioning that Ji Zhi had a real-life inspiration that he remembered the whole thing and tracked it down.

He’d assumed the NPC was just visually based on Ji Zhi. He never expected the personality to match so closely, either—which made him realize in a flash that he’d found the real-life Ji Zhi.

Back when he’d posted, he hadn’t cared for the new NPC at all, so he’d never given a thought to how it might drag the game studio—or Ji Zhi himself—into the mess. Once he and Ji Zhi became friends online, though, he started worrying that the truth about L would make Ji Zhi pull away. That was why he’d kept quiet.

After all, the last thing he wanted was for Ji Zhi to hate him.

Ji Zhi listened to Top Fan No. 3’s explanation without getting upset.

The L incident hadn’t impacted his real life at all, and he knew Top Fan No. 3 wasn’t exactly a saint. Something like that was right in line with what he’d expect from him.

Still, when Top Fan No. 3 casually mentioned having an agent, Ji Zhi couldn’t help pausing in surprise. “You’re a celebrity?”

A second later, it clicked. That would explain the irregular login times. Yao Shan had mentioned before how grueling celebrity schedules could get—endless variety show recordings or drama shoots that blurred day and night, leaving no time to even check your phone.

He’d only voiced his shock offhand, but Top Fan No. 3 immediately replied, “Yes.”

“My name is Jiang Yaolin.”

His voice was tentative, probably because he’d already hidden one thing from Ji Zhi. He didn’t dare lie anymore and came clean. “But I don’t like that name or the identity that comes with it, so I never told you…”

Ji Zhi: ?

Hold on. Who did he just say he was?

Was it the Jiang Yaolin he was thinking of?

Ji Zhi’s first instinct was that it had to be a coincidence—just someone with the same name. He desperately hoped that was the case.

Please be a case of mistaken identity!

But the photo Jiang Yaolin sent shattered that hope.

Maybe he’d anticipated Ji Zhi wouldn’t believe him, or perhaps he figured Ji Zhi didn’t follow entertainment news and might not even recognize the name. Either way, he’d snapped a selfie.

The first thing that caught Ji Zhi’s eye was that bone structure made for the spotlight. Right now, it was softened by pajamas, giving the sharp brow bones an unexpectedly boyish look. A hint of caution lingered in his eyes.

It was the same Jiang Yaolin who’d greeted him before.

And in the corner of the shot, the wall was plastered with homemade merch and anime-style artwork of him and his game character, Ji Zhi.

Ji Zhi: “…”

That merch was the ultimate proof of authenticity.

His silence only made Jiang Yaolin more anxious on the other end of the line. “Bro?”

“The L account’s deleted—I don’t know how to recover it. I can apologize on my new personal Twitter… or the official Jiang Yaolin one…”

“Wait a second!” Ji Zhi snapped back to attention and cut him off.

What a joke. If Jiang Yaolin posted an apology on his celebrity account, it’d rocket straight to the trending charts.

Ji Zhi had no desire for that kind of attention, especially since he wasn’t even mad. “It’s fine. That’s all in the past.”

Just then, he heard the front door lock turning. Fu Huixu must be back.

Ji Zhi’s heart skipped. He hadn’t put his glasses on yet.

On instinct, he locked his bedroom door, tossed his phone aside, and scrambled for his black-rimmed glasses.

Fu Huixu, realizing he couldn’t get in, started knocking.

He didn’t remember Ji Zhi’s name, so he got straight to the point. “Open the door.”

Ji Zhi snatched up the glasses and slipped them on. He hurried to the door, feigning confusion. “Huh? Is the door locked?”

He swung it open and found Fu Huixu standing there.

Before Fu Huixu could say anything, Ji Zhi jumped in with an explanation. “Sorry, I must’ve locked it by accident…”

He wondered why Fu Huixu was back so early, but he knew asking wouldn’t get him an answer, so he let it go.

Fu Huixu loomed over him, taller as always. He looked down, his long lashes casting a shadow over the mole at the corner of his eye as he scrutinized Ji Zhi.

But Fu Huixu soon looked away and brushed past him, clearly uninterested in dwelling on something so trivial.

Right at that moment, Jiang Yaolin’s puzzled voice crackled from the phone. “Bro? Is someone there with you?”

Oh no!

How had he forgotten he was still on the call?

Terrified Jiang Yaolin might say something incriminating, Ji Zhi lunged for the phone and hung up, abruptly silencing a string of desperate “Bro?”s.

He snuck a glance at Fu Huixu. Maybe those plaintive cries had caught even his attention—Fu Huixu had turned to look at him, brow furrowed in confusion.

Ji Zhi: “…My little brother’s super clingy.”

Fu Huixu looked away again.

With Fu Huixu handled for the moment, Ji Zhi turned his thoughts back to Jiang Yaolin.

A quick check of his phone revealed a flood of new messages—mostly apologies and questions about who’d spoken. Clearly, Jiang Yaolin assumed the sudden hang-up meant Ji Zhi was furious.

The barrage was so long it kept growing even as Ji Zhi skimmed it. He fired off a few quick replies: 【I’m not mad.】

【Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell a soul. I just need time to process your identity.】

【Once I’ve wrapped my head around it, I’ll reach out. You did lie to me, after all.】

This time, Ji Zhi wasn’t fibbing at all.

He really did need a minute to digest the fact that Jiang Yaolin was Top Fan No. 3.

In his mind, Jiang Yaolin had always been a good Samaritan who’d helped him out. He never imagined the guy’s real personality was… like this.

Ji Zhi’s feelings were all jumbled up.

He switched back to the chat and noticed a message from Fu Huixu, sent half an hour earlier. He’d been too busy streaming to see it then.

【Top Fan No.1: Baby, it’s been ages since we talked on the phone. Seeing your stream today made me miss you even more.】

【Top Fan No.1: I’m back at the dorm early. The other guy’s out right now. Video call? Even a few minutes would be great.】

Ji Zhi: “……”

No wonder Fu Huixu had returned so early.

Under normal circumstances, Ji Zhi would’ve agreed without issue. But they were in the same space right now.

He typed back in a hurry: 【Just finished streaming. I’m out running errands—won’t be back for an hour or two. Your roommate should be home by then, right?】

A pointed reminder of his own presence. Not that it mattered—he was standing right there.

Top Fan No.1 replied almost instantly: 【He’s back already.】

【No worries, Baby. I’ll wait for you. I can make him leave.】

Ji Zhi: ?

How exactly did Fu Huixu plan to make him leave?

He was still puzzling over it when Fu Huixu’s voice rang out—an unusual initiative on his part. “Ten thousand yuan to leave the dorm for two and a half hours.”

Two and a half hours would take them right up to lights-out check.

Ji Zhi: “……”

Seriously? That’s your method?

Wasn’t that the exact scheme he’d brainstormed with Chen Xingwen earlier? How had Fu Huixu ended up using it?!