Gu Shengsheng thrashed and burrowed wildly in his embrace like a frightened baby kangaroo searching for its mother’s pouch. The mental image made Shen Wang’s whole body go numb. He grabbed the back of her neck. “Stop screaming, you—”
Gu Shengsheng clung to him desperately, legs wrapping around his waist like vines. She kept up the ground-squirrel-level shrieking.
Shen Wang’s temple vein throbbed violently. He clamped both hands over her ears. “Quiet!”
But right then the female ghost let out another eerie giggle, accompanied by ripping sounds and screams that filled the bedroom in 360-degree surround.
Gu Shengsheng exploded into another round of screams, nearly fainting from terror, her legs kicking wildly against Shen Wang.
One kick landed squarely in a very sensitive spot. Shen Wang let out a muffled grunt, face turning ashen. It took him a long moment to recover. Finally, with one arm still holding Gu Shengsheng, he reached for the remote.
Click.
The creepy sounds vanished. Only Gu Shengsheng’s screams remained in the room.
Face buried in the blanket, she lay limp and wilted, still reeling from the shock of her very first horror movie. “I thought it was going to be a story about a scholar going to the capital for the exams and secretly promising his life to a young lady!”
“I’m so scared… my heart is still pounding!”
“I’ll never be happy again.”
Shen Wang couldn’t take it anymore. He finally made the biggest concession of his life: “…If you shut up, I’ll let you watch Era X.”
Era X was full of handsome men and beautiful women, extravagant luxury, and zero scary scenes. Gu Shengsheng finally relaxed, snuggling happily against Shen Wang to watch.
As she watched, she narrated the tangled relationships to him: She’s best friends with her, but she slept with her boyfriend. Then she stole her crush. After that, her boyfriend ran off with another woman.
They fought, they made up, they fought again. He died. Then a man who looked exactly like him came back…
Gu Shengsheng’s brain short-circuited halfway through. “Eh? Wait, this guy didn’t die? Why did he dye his hair and suddenly no one recognizes him?”
Shen Wang sat stone-faced, letting her ramble on as if he’d gone deaf. Unfortunately, the only purpose of the movie’s characters seemed to be arguing. Several women with different accents screamed at each other, cried bitterly, then reconciled tearfully to a soundtrack…
After talking for ages, Gu Shengsheng suddenly remembered: “I almost forgot my snacks! You have to eat something while watching a movie.”
She brought over the bedside tray and set it on Shen Wang’s lap. These were freshly made meringue candies (reduced sugar, light milky flavor, melt-in-your-mouth) and hawthorn-filled soft rice cakes rolled in glutinous rice flour—chewy, slightly tart and sweet, perfect midnight comfort food.
The moment the snacks arrived, Gu Shengsheng noticed Shen Wang finally paying attention to her—and even eating the treats with her.
She brought over her osmanthus tea and fed him a sip. Shen Wang’s lips were moist, his low magnetic voice rising slightly: “So this time… why are they fighting again?”
…
“Wangzai Won’t Listen” went live again. The moment she entered the room today, Gu Shengsheng noticed the viewer count was unusually high—and the barrage felt… off.
Gu Shengsheng streamed three meals a day. For many viewers, popping into her room whenever they had a free moment had become a habit. Her stream was clean and simple—no fancy intros or background music. The camera always pointed at a bright, spotless stove. In quiet moments, you could hear leaves rustling in the wind and birds chirping.
Gu Shengsheng didn’t chat much with viewers. Sometimes she’d simmer congee for two or three hours straight. She’d set the pot on the fire and walk away, leaving the camera fixed on a single bubbling clay pot sending up gentle wisps of steam.
Viewers would chat among themselves in the barrage, sharing little bits of their daily lives. Or they’d leave the stream on as background noise while doing other things.
To Gu Shengsheng, these viewers felt like a group of unseen girlfriends and friendly neighbors—lively and warm.
But today’s barrage carried a sharp, hostile edge.
【Autistic Retard: What kind of trash can hit the front page now? Leaving.】
【Uncle Tao: A newbie hitting rank 1 with that many fireworks? Gotta be self-brushing, lol I’m dying】
【Jin Xiu: Heh heh, such a huge kitchen—rented, right? Trying to build a rich-flower persona for yourself?】
Gu Shengsheng was completely baffled. Then the private message alert chimed in the backend.
She simply exited the live room and checked her messages. Amid the usual viewer confessions and troll insults, there was one from Swan Live’s official account.
Gu Shengsheng opened it: “Ding-dong! You have received a private message from Swan.”
“Dear Wangzai Won’t Listen, your live room has entered the Top 50 of the Newcomer Cultivation List. Please send a clear, unedited front-facing personal photo to the Swan backend to participate in the selection.”
“Newcomer Cultivation List…” Gu Shengsheng paused. Then she remembered Swan’s event: sending enough nutrient solution could push a streamer onto the Newcomer Cultivation List.
Now she understood why her room was suddenly being trashed.
She didn’t care much about the ranking. The original owner was just an eighteenth-tier minor actress; if not for the scandal that got her shelved by the company, she’d be on set filming right now. But outsiders didn’t know that—they saw Gu Shengsheng as a sudden dark horse and wanted to strangle this budding rival before she could grow.
Gu Shengsheng almost laughed. She had inherited the original owner’s memories and knew a bit about the entertainment industry.
The number-one spot on Swan’s Newcomer Cultivation List earned a chance to appear in a TV drama—but TV roles had strict appearance requirements. After all, streamers on Swan came in every look imaginable. Production teams needed to see the streamer’s real face in advance to decide role type and screen time.
In other words: even if you reached rank one, if you were ugly, you’d only get a three-second cameo as cannon fodder.
She had no idea what these people were fighting so hard over.
Gu Shengsheng closed the backend and logged back into the live room. The haters were still spamming. She ignored them completely, washed her hands, and started cooking.
The fridge had very fresh salmon and shellfish today. It was her first time cooking these, so she stared at the orange-red salmon flesh, a little unsure where to begin.
【Autistic Retard: Not hyping yourself as a cooking genius who masters any dish on the first try? Turns out you don’t even know how to handle oysters?】
【Only Love Lan Ruo: The host cooks seafood every day—ripping off Seafood Little Boat, right? Am I the only one who thinks so?】
【Peanut Candy hst: Where did all these haters come from!】
【Gone with One Breeze: @Only Love Lan Ruo Yes, only you. You’re electricity, you’re light, you’re the only myth. I’m dying laughing. Did your master monopolize all the world’s seafood? No one else is allowed to cook it now?】
【Eat Kunpeng or Not: These haters are definitely peers. They didn’t even change their IDs】
The instigator accounts immediately launched a coordinated attack—well-trained, flooding the screen with long strings of trash talk.
【Mu Mu: The host pretends and won’t let us talk? The ranking is obviously self-brushed!】
【Nan Chen: Won’t show her face = definitely ugly】
【A Chen: Fake ugly bitch, get lost】
The small group of viewers defending Gu Shengsheng couldn’t out-shout them. More and more regular viewers got fed up with the toxic barrage and left the room one after another.
As the viewer count visibly plummeted, fireworks suddenly exploded across the screen again.
【System Notification: Anisette sent 100 fireworks】
Another 100 fireworks.
This time, the fireworks used the shout-out function. The message appeared across the entire platform’s homepage:
【Anisette: Not an alt.】
Swan Live boiled over once more!
“Anisette” was known on the platform for only throwing money, never wasting words. And now he had made an exception for this new streamer!
【Picked-up Pride: The whale already explained—he’s not her alt! Haters, come apologize!】
【kateee1966: Calling the new streamer’s supporter an alt, self-hype. I think you guys are jealous peers coming to sabotage, right?】
Almost instantly, the haters launched a massive counterattack.
【Autistic Retard: “No silver here”—if it’s not an alt, why explain for her?】
【A Chen: Fake ugly bitch is panicking】
【Jin Xiu: Which alt would ever admit they’re an alt hahahahahaha】
The haters started spewing profanity. Any barrage that dared defend Gu Shengsheng got dogpiled with insults targeting their private parts.
Bang bang bang.
【System Notification: Anisette sent 100 fireworks】
【System Notification: Don’t Startle the Birds sent 1 firework】
【System Notification: Hua Sui Shiyi sent 1 firework】
As if deliberately antagonizing them, fireworks kept exploding in the barrage. Each burst caused a one-minute pause in the spam—only for countless alt accounts to surge back immediately.
Just as the room was about to be completely overrun again, the screen suddenly went black and froze.
Everyone thought the stream had lagged and were about to refresh—when the picture flared back to life.
A soaring, dramatic melody rang out, accompanied by dazzling fireworks exploding one after another, lighting up the entire Swan Live homepage.
【System Notification: S sent 1000 fireworks to “Wangzai Won’t Listen”】
This day would forever be recorded in Swan Live history.
【Jiang Ru Yun: ONE THOUSAND FIREWORKS!!!!!! ONE THOUSAND!!!!!! Did I see wrong?!】
【Three Thousand Spring Winds: OP, you didn’t see wrong! It’s one thousand. In all my years on Swan, this is the first time anyone’s sent a thousand!】
【Lin Shen Moment: Holy shit, does this whale daddy think 1000 fireworks = 1000 yuan?】
【Picking Stars and Moon Too: No way upstairs. Could a normal person have that much money in their account?】
The thousand fireworks continued to explode, washing away every filthy word and troll comment. Eventually, the viewers simply sat back in silence to admire the display.
Swan Live’s firework effects were stunning—brilliant clouds of light, each one unique.
【Sand Sculpture Laughs Loudly: Ah, this is the beauty of money】
【Yun Xian Zhi: Who gave me the courage to witness a million-yuan firework show】
With the fireworks bursting, a massive wave of new viewers flooded into the Swan live room once again.
【Hua Sui Shiyi: Where did all those haters go? Did they mute themselves?】
【Western Fried Chicken Nuggets: That “Only Love Lan Ruo” is just an old fan from the neighboring Lan Ruo’s room, right? Didn’t even change the name before coming out to embarrass herself?】
【Kumquat Lemon No Ice: Some streamers should just behave. I’ve seen you guys stir up drama in other people’s rooms more than once or twice. Believe me when I say I’ll dig up your real ID?】
Where there are people, there are factions. Swan Live streamers had their own cliques and alliances. Fans and teams of big streamers often raided smaller rooms to cause chaos and stir drama. With their numbers and coordination, they frequently turned other people’s streams into toxic battlegrounds. Quite a few promising new streamers had been squeezed out of Swan this way.
Many viewers had long been fed up. Now, with a big whale backing the room, they finally spoke up. Some smaller streamers who’d been bullied before also took the chance to vent.
Behind a rundown computer, a disheveled middle-aged man was on the phone: “Sister Lan, should we keep cursing? All the accounts we raised got banned by Swan officials! We’re registering new alts now, but we can’t keep up the speed…”
“Curse my ass! Didn’t you see someone’s dead set on protecting her? Keep cursing and we’ll just hand her the win for free. Pull the water army out first!” The sharp voice was furious and exasperated. “By the way, get someone to look into this new streamer’s background. Find out exactly who she is.”
Back in Gu Shengsheng’s live room.
The barrage was tearing itself apart in an epic war. When the fireworks finally died down, the screen revealed an exquisitely arranged platter of sashimi.
Thick-cut, orange-red salmon sashimi, crisp red-and-white arctic surf clams, peeled translucent sweet shrimp—all artfully placed on a wooden tray.
A pair of slender, fair hands held a wooden spoon, breaking apart a large bowl of rice. She scooped out a small portion, pressed it tightly in her palm, and shaped it firmly. Her movements were a little inexperienced; beside her sat a phone, and sharp-eyed viewers could see a sushi-making tutorial open on the screen.
【Hua Sui Shiyi: Holy crap… while we were fighting, the host was learning how to make sushi?】
【Tamago Roll: Big sis has nerves of steel. What else can I say besides 666】
【Three Thousand Spring Winds: What’s that pink sushi made of? And the green one?】
【Blue Fatty Can Eat Three Big Bowls of Rice: My grilled cold noodles suddenly don’t smell good anymore…】
“The green one is avocado sushi—creamy and rich, very similar to salmon in texture. The pink one is sakura sushi; the color comes from red yeast rice powder.” Gu Shengsheng explained calmly, her hands never slowing—graceful and fluid.
After finishing several types of sushi, she diced the leftover salmon trimmings and avocado, mixed them with sauce into an avocado-salmon poke salad, and topped it with glistening orange-red fish roe.
【I’m a Lemon Spirit: Wuwuwu watching the host cook is so soothing… nothing gets wasted at all】
【Don’t Startle the Birds: I’m starving!】
【Eat More Greens: Wangzai is celebrating New Year today—so much sashimi! Big sis, does your house need a cat? The kind that shouts 666】
“No thanks. Raising cats is too much trouble.” Gu Shengsheng said seriously. Then she ignored the wave of heartbroken comments and brought out a flat pan. “The ones I just made were all raw sushi. Now I’m going to make tamagoyaki.”