Seeing Jiang Yaolin approach, the arrogance in Long Yan’s manager instantly deflated a bit. “Teacher Jiang, something happened over here, but we’ll handle it right away…”
Noticing the spark of interest in Jiang Yaolin’s expression, the manager quickly gave a brief rundown of the situation.
After hearing the manager out, Jiang Yaolin’s gaze shifted to Long Yan and Ji Zhi standing nearby.
Looking at the two of them locked in a standoff, Jiang Yaolin spoke up without delay. “Let’s check the security footage first. See if it caught the guy snapping photos.”
His tone lifted slightly, brimming with evident curiosity.
If Yao Shan had said it, the manager might not have taken it seriously. But since it was Jiang Yaolin, he nodded in agreement.
This approach didn’t require checking Ji Zhi’s phone gallery, so Ji Zhi had no objections either.
With consensus reached, they decided to review the surveillance footage to see if it had captured Ji Zhi’s actions or his phone screen at the time.
The base’s hallways were lined with plenty of cameras. After contacting the staff in charge, the footage was pulled up in short order.
The cameras here had no blind spots. While they couldn’t make out the text on Ji Zhi’s phone screen clearly, they could see that when Long Yan and the manager passed by, his display showed a page of news-like text—not a camera app.
This proved Ji Zhi hadn’t been taking photos.
Ji Zhi let out a quiet sigh of relief in his heart. After all, it meant he wouldn’t have to hand over his phone.
From the corner of his eye, he caught Yao Shan exhaling deeply as well, while Jiang Yaolin stared at the screen, lost in thought.
The tension eased from Long Yan’s manager’s face. “As long as there was no photo-snapping, we’re good.”
“Let’s go, Teacher Jiang. Now that it’s settled, we can head to the recording…”
But before he could finish, Jiang Yaolin’s voice cut in. “Hold on.”
“You falsely accused someone. Shouldn’t you apologize?”
The manager’s relaxed expression tightened right back up. In his mind, it had been a reasonable suspicion—and Ji Zhi was just a lowly staffer whose job was to serve their artist. Why should they apologize?
Yet the one saying it was Jiang Yaolin.
Before Long Yan joined the show, the manager had done his homework on the other mentors, including Jiang Yaolin.
Jiang Yaolin came across great on screen: warm, outgoing, never lording his seniority over others. Staff who’d worked with him spoke highly of him. But the manager had been around the industry long enough to know idols had two faces—one for the cameras. His digging had turned up rumors of Jiang Yaolin’s eccentric personality, though details were vague and people dodged specifics. Still, he’d filed it away.
Right now, whether due to Jiang Yaolin’s quirky reputation or his status as a senior, the manager knew he had to play along.
He turned to Ji Zhi and muttered a reluctant apology. “Sorry…”
Ji Zhi hadn’t expected an apology at all. He blinked in surprise for a moment before graciously accepting it.
With that, the incident came to a close.
Long Yan and his manager started to invite Jiang Yaolin to walk with them, but Jiang Yaolin was waiting for his own manager and turned them down.
Once Long Yan and the manager had left, Ji Zhi and Yao Shan hurried to thank Jiang Yaolin.
“No big deal, bro and sis—don’t sweat it.” Jiang Yaolin waved it off casually. Since they were staff, he assumed they were older than him.
When his own manager arrived, he turned and walked away.
As Jiang Yaolin’s figure vanished from view, Yao Shan couldn’t help sighing in admiration. “Everyone says Jiang Yaolin’s got a great personality. Looks like it’s true.”
Ji Zhi nodded.
Jiang Yaolin was a constant on hot searches and screens, so even without following entertainment news closely, Ji Zhi had heard of him. He knew the guy had a good reputation, polite enough to call staff “bro” and “sis.” It all checked out now.
This was Yao Shan’s first time dealing with Jiang Yaolin, and she hadn’t expected him to step in so helpfully—not just for her, but to get an apology for Ji Zhi too. Most stars wouldn’t bother with something like that, let alone demand an apology to a staffer.
With the drama settled for now, Yao Shan got Ji Zhi back to work.
Things went much smoother after that, wrapping up a few hours later.
To celebrate Ji Zhi’s first time finishing a full translation gig, Yao Shan treated him to dinner at a nearby restaurant.
Ji Zhi tried to turn it down, embarrassed, but Yao Shan laughed and said all the previous interns got the same treatment. Plus, the company would reimburse it.
Hearing that last part put Ji Zhi at ease.
Over the meal, Yao Shan used the Long Yan incident to remind him to stay cautious—not just with artists, but anywhere crowds of them gathered.
After all, personalities varied. Some were as nice as Jiang Yaolin, but others were more like Long Yan.
Ji Zhi nodded, taking it to heart. He definitely didn’t want a repeat.
Yao Shan’s car was still at the company; they’d taken the production shuttle to the base.
She’d planned to cab back to the company with him first, then drive him home for safety.
But Ji Zhi had curfew at the dorms and didn’t want to risk it, so he let her know and they split up for separate rides.
In the car, Ji Zhi realized he’d been swamped all afternoon and hadn’t checked his phone during dinner with Yao Shan. He pulled it out in a hurry.
His class group and Chen Xingwen were both quiet, so he switched to his alt WeChat account quick.
That one was buzzing. Top Fan No.1 and Top Fan No.2 from the other platforms had both messaged, and Ji Zhi replied to each, soothing them.
As he went to log off, a message popped up from Top Fan No.3.
【Top Fan No.3: Bro, I’m off work~】
Ji Zhi paused, his thumb freezing over the exit button.
Top Fan No.3 was his Top Fan on yet another platform.
The site had been pushing game streaming at the time, offering bonuses for streamers who jumped in. Ji Zhi went for it to snag the support payout.
He picked a niche single-player horror game—tough as nails, no full guides yet.
Not only did Ji Zhi beat it, he shattered the clear-time record. His chill vibe and rock-solid nerves went viral, putting the obscure title on the map.
The devs were so grateful they modeled a new character after his in-game avatar and personality: the protagonist’s buddy, named after his streaming handle “Ji Zhi,” complete with a dedicated side story and ending.
Ji Zhi said yes because the studio threw in extra pay.
He wasn’t one to turn down cash, especially for a game he loved.
What he hadn’t expected was for Top Fan No.3 to discover his stream because of it.
The guy was loaded, friending Ji Zhi on WeChat fast.
Ji Zhi soon figured out why he was such a heavy spender—
Top Fan No.3 was a diehard fan of the protagonist’s buddy Ji Zhi. He’d snapped up every official and fan-made merch, ran a super topic and account hyping the NPC, and commissioned artists and writers for regular content drops.
Learning Ji Zhi had a real-life basis, he’d zeroed in immediately.
Ji Zhi had seen the account mentioned in stream chat before, and the discussions about how it banned all “dream guys” and “dream girls.” Some who’d replied as Ji Zhi shippers got insta-blocked and booted from the fan group.
Not knowing what “dream guys” or “dream girls” meant, Ji Zhi had screenshotted and asked Chen Xingwen, who seemed clued in on that stuff.
Chen Xingwen explained patiently: “Dream guys and dream girls are fans who wanna date the character. Banning them means rejecting that kind of headcanon.”
Ji Zhi had been curious why.
Chen Xingwen replied thoughtfully: “Either they don’t want their fave dating anyone, or they don’t want their fave dating anyone else.”
“But who knows with this one. They must really love Ji Zhi.”
Back then, Ji Zhi hadn’t grasped the world of difference between those options.
When adding Top Fan No.3, Ji Zhi had worried he’d be like Top Fan No.1 or No.2—guys, but maybe not straight.
But learning he loved Ji Zhi’s game character and banned dream shippers put his mind at ease. He pegged it as the first type.
Then he learned it was the second—the guy was a full-on Ji Zhi dream guy himself, banning everyone else.
Ji Zhi: “…”
Was his avatar that gay-looking?
Could the devs slap a “straight” label on the NPC?
Fat chance. The team mentioned the original bad-end death for Ji Zhi had even been paywalled into a rewrite by this dream guy.
Ji Zhi hadn’t known Top Fan No.3 long, but he seemed young, barely legal.
Like the protagonist calling Ji Zhi in-game, he called Ji Zhi “bro.”
Having already dealt with the “Baby” nickname, Ji Zhi took it in stride.
His online hours were erratic: 7 or 8 a.m. sometimes, 3 or 4 a.m. others, or afternoons. Not student hours, nor overseas like Top Fan No.2. Ji Zhi first thought he was a NEET, then realized it was an irregular job.
Ji Zhi couldn’t imagine what job or coworkers tolerated this guy’s weird streak—always talking about people around him like it was prime-time drama.
But that was for Top Fan No.3’s colleagues to worry about. Ji Zhi’s headache was the “perks” he demanded: personal items.
Started with a signed pic, escalated to a used pen, clothes from streams…
Ji Zhi wanted to say no but feared what a rejection might trigger with that personality. To dodge doxxing risks, he always mailed from far-off stations.
Luckily, Top Fan No.3 was pretty well-behaved when not being creepy.
【Top Fan No.3: Bro, today I watched my coworker get into it with some people. Total drama show.】
【Top Fan No.3: Shame the ending was lame though. I was hoping he’d fight me. Sigh, boring~】
Ji Zhi had grown accustomed to Top Fan No.3’s gloomy personality. He could only try his best to exhort the other to be a good person: 【It’s just like how I ran into some trouble today, but a good Samaritan stepped in to help me out.】
No sooner had he sent the message than Top Fan No.3’s replies started flooding in.
【Top Fan No.3: Who? What kind of trouble? I can help you out.】
【Ji Zhi: That good Samaritan already took care of it for me. The trouble’s over, and I’m fine now.】
【Top Fan No.3: Bro, was the person who helped you a guy or a girl? How old are they? What’s your relationship? Did you know them before, or did you just meet through this?】
Top Fan No.3’s barrage of questions made Ji Zhi feel like he was filling out an interrogation survey. It was utterly terrifying.
He hadn’t expected such an over-the-top reaction just from a casual mention.
Of course, Ji Zhi had no intention of spilling the beans about Jiang Yaolin and Long Yan. A celebrity’s identity was far too sensitive, especially with drama like that involved. He struggled through some vague deflections and finally wrapped up the chat.
Ji Zhi got back to the dorm much later than usual, but he made it just in time before curfew check. He ran into his counselor right at the door, just as she was about to knock.
Since Ji Zhi had already reached the dorm room door, the counselor didn’t give him any grief. She simply repeated the school’s standard reminder that it was safer to return early in the evening before heading off.
Ji Zhi dragged his weary body into the room. He had planned to wash up right away and hit the sack.
But as he approached the bathroom, he heard the sound of running water inside.
Only then did it hit Ji Zhi that things were different now—they had Fu Huixu in the dorm.
Fu Huixu’s counselor must have done rounds earlier than his own, so Fu Huixu had probably gone to wash up after the check.
With that in mind, Ji Zhi quickly pulled his hand back from the doorknob, not wanting to come off like some creepy intruder.
With the bathroom occupied by Fu Huixu, Ji Zhi turned around and plopped down on the edge of his bed to wait his turn.
Right then, he heard a “ding.”
Realizing it was a notification, Ji Zhi hurriedly pulled out his phone—only to find no new messages on it.
Puzzled, he fiddled with his phone for a moment before it dawned on him. His gaze shifted to Fu Huixu’s bed across the room, where the other boy’s phone screen had lit up.
It looked like Fu Huixu had gotten a message.
Ji Zhi was just about to look away, figuring it had nothing to do with him, when his eyes locked onto Fu Huixu’s phone screen.
That screen…
Why did it look so familiar?
