As he finished the final stroke, Han Xingji set aside the test paper he had just completed and glanced at the phone beside him.
The phone was propped up on a stand, its screen lit, showing him and his current surroundings. The interface was cluttered with various colorful features unique to a livestreaming platform.
At the very top of the screen, a title scrolled by: A-Ji’s Gaokao Sprint Study Room.
Han Xingji checked the time—it was 11:50 PM. Then he looked at the number of viewers: 33,610. His eyes widened in surprise.
The moment he looked up, the previously quiet comment section exploded with messages.
Han Xingji had to manually scroll back just to catch a glimpse of the earlier comments, but they were moving so fast that most disappeared before he could read them. Eventually, he gave up and said, “The speed you guys are spamming is ridiculous. It’s so late, why aren’t you sleeping yet? Careful you don’t show up late for work tomorrow. Me? What do I have to worry about? I’m on winter break, my bros.”
His voice possessed the clear, vibrant quality typical of a youth, and his tone was brimming with smugness, which triggered another wave of comments.
Most of them were expressing dissatisfaction with his gloating.
Han Xingji pretended not to notice and chatted casually while tidying his desk.
Just as he finished speaking, he heard the sound effect of a firework. Turning his head, he saw a fan had tipped him. Brilliant, multi-colored fireworks exploded across the screen, and amidst the effects, large, rainbow-colored text nearly took up the entire display.
Han Xingji turned back and said fiercely, “I told you not to send gifts! Your daddy isn’t short on money!”
He hadn’t started this study room livestream to make money or become famous; he just wanted some interaction to relax during his study breaks.
After all, this massive house was empty and silent with only him in it; his voice even had an echo. No matter how immersed he was in his studies, he still felt lonely during his breaks.
He just hadn’t expected so many night owls to be lurking in his livestream in the middle of the night.
After scolding them, he glanced at the special text on the screen—a privilege for big spenders that dominated the entire view.
Pretty A-Ji, look at me: A-Ji, A-Ji, which university are you aiming for?
Han Xingji said with total confidence, “I’m aiming for the Top 2. Otherwise, why would I be slaving away over test papers until midnight during my winter break?”
The comment section erupted again, filled with well-wishes and amazement, though a few trolls chimed in: Top 2 isn’t something you get into with just a face. Don’t end up failing to get into even a tier-one school.
Han Xingji tilted his chin up and scoffed, “Your daddy can get into a 985 university with my eyes closed.”
The night light cast a strip of brightness across the youth’s face, the interplay of light and shadow accentuating his delicate, handsome features. His confident eyes shone brightly even in the dark.
The comment section was filled with fans swooning over his looks, while others lectured him on his arrogant tone.
Han Xingji couldn’t be bothered with them. The internet tended to amplify all sorts of emotions. His life hadn’t been long, but he had weathered enough storms to develop a mature and calm mindset.
Besides, the Gaokao was his own business. He’d happily accept well-wishes, but he wouldn’t take curses to heart.
Just as he was about to end the stream, he suddenly heard a faint cat meowing from outside.
Since it was a detached villa and his study was on the second floor, the meowing was faint, but he still managed to catch it.
He put a finger to his lips toward the screen. “Shh, I think I heard a cat.”
He didn’t look at the comments but tilted his head to listen. After hearing two more meows, he looked out the window.
Because it was winter and the middle of the night, it was incredibly quiet outside. The streetlights held back the darkness, but even after looking for a while, Han Xingji couldn’t see the cat. Hearing another couple of meows, he eventually gave up and said, “There really is a cat, but I can’t find it. It must be hiding. I’m going to go look for it. It’s probably a newcomer; it’s hard to find food in the dead of winter, so it’s likely hungry. I’ll go get dressed and grab some cat food, then I’ll take you all along to feed it.”
As he spoke, he casually changed the livestream title to: Midnight Cat-Feeding Master in the Bitter Cold.
After changing the title, he left the study to get dressed and grab the cat food. The camera faithfully captured his departing figure—tall, with broad shoulders and long legs. He had the lean frame typical of a young man, but his movements were full of youthful vitality.
The comment section was a chorus of wails: It’s just changing clothes, why did you close the door? Is there anything your daddies can’t see? Our father-son bond has weakened!
Han Xingji finished changing and came back to pick up his phone. He glanced at the comments and debated the issue of seniority with them for a bit before answering some questions seriously.
“Host, it’s not very safe to go out this late.”
Han Xingji replied, “It’s fine. The security in our neighborhood is quite good. Besides, it’s thirteen degrees below zero right now. If a criminal is actually waiting out there just for me, I’d respect him as a true warrior.”
“How does the host know it’s a new kitten?”
Han Xingji replied as he opened a cabinet for cat food, “Because I know and have fed every cat in this neighborhood, of course. Not just the strays, I know the pets too. I only have to call once, and they all come running. Your daddy is the legendary Cat King of the community, got it?”
The comment section turned into a heated debate again, with the host and fans all calling themselves each other’s “daddy.”
Han Xingji ignored it, but as he reached for the cat food, the bag sliced a small cut onto his left thumb.
Seeing the wound wasn’t deep—just a small bead of blood—he didn’t pay it much mind. He simply flicked his hand and took out two cans of cat food.
He glanced at the screen and saw someone worrying that a kitten wouldn’t survive this weather.
Han Xingji remarked casually, “If it’s small and it’s a male, I’ll bring it back first.”
“Ah, is the host going to adopt a cat? Can you let the cat join the livestreams later?”
“The host even checks the gender? Is there even gender preference for cats? One star review!”
Han Xingji refused decisively, “I’m not adopting. I’m too busy; I can barely take care of myself, where would I find the time for a cat? The reason I’m bringing a male back is to get him neutered tomorrow. I won’t allow a single male cat with balls to exist in our neighborhood!”
A string of question marks instantly flooded the screen, and Han Xingji was immediately dubbed the “Nutcracker Expert.”
Han Xingji grumbled, “What are you talking about? I’m doing it to maintain the ecological balance. At the very least, you should call me a ‘Friend of the Birds’.”
As he spoke, he opened the front door. At that exact moment, the time on his phone jumped to 00:00. The second he stepped outside, the livestream suddenly went pitch black.
The viewers, who had been waiting to see the cat, stared at the black screen in confusion. The comments were instantly filled with question marks: Where’s the host? Did opening the door send him to outer space?
At that moment, Han Xingji couldn’t see the comments at all, because the instant he stepped out, a blast of violent wind mixed with snowflakes slapped him in the face.
Submissively closing his eyes to shield them from the wind and snow, he thought to himself that it was a good thing his down jacket had a hood.
He fumbled to put the hood on, feeling a bit bewildered. When he had looked out the window earlier, it was perfectly still—no wind, no snow. How had it turned into this in the time it took to get dressed?
However, when Han Xingji finally got his hood on and squinted through the storm, he was shocked to find nothing but a vast expanse of white snow. The familiar houses and the greenery that usually turned barren in winter had all vanished.
Han Xingji instinctively wiped his face and looked around in a daze. Aside from the flat snowscape and a faint, distant glimmer of firelight, there was nothing.
He rubbed his eyes again, hoping what he saw was an illusion.
Unfortunately, the biting wind that felt like a knife against his face and the snow dust forcing its way down his collar reminded him that this was all very real.
His first reaction was to turn around and go home, but behind him, there was only more snow—no sign of his familiar front door.
Han Xingji stood there frozen, his mind a complete blank. He instinctively asked, “Where am I?”
Only then did he remember he had his phone. He quickly pulled it out, intending to call for help.
But when he checked it, he found the livestream interface had gone completely dark, showing a notification for a lost connection. Not only that, but a tiny ‘x’ had appeared over the signal bars, meaning the phone had no service at all.
Han Xingji’s heart raced. Clutching his phone tightly, he looked around in a panic.
He had just stepped out of his house—where on earth was he? Another gust of freezing wind blew by, and Han Xingji felt as though his brain was beginning to freeze.
He tried frantically to operate his phone, but by the time his hands were numb, it still hadn’t connected to a signal.
Han Xingji had no choice but to put the phone back in his pocket. The intense cold brought by the blizzard forced him to set aside his confusion and find shelter first.
In just that short time, a significant amount of snow had accumulated on him. His arms and shoulders had less due to his movement, but the top of his head was a disaster area; a slight turn of his head sent clumps of snow cascading down.
Han Xingji looked up, unsure of where to go. Eventually, he could only move toward the distant firelight.
But that light was too faint; it was impossible to tell how far away it was.
Han Xingji didn’t even know if he could make it there, but it was his only choice.
With trembling hands, he tightened the drawstring of his hood, letting the high collar of his down jacket cover half his face. He tucked his pant legs into his boots and began to trudge slowly through the blizzard toward the fire.
The snow was already past his ankles. At this rate, it would probably be up to his knees by dawn.
The more Han Xingji thought about it, the more terrified he became. He ducked his head and quickened his pace.
After walking for an unknown amount of time, just as he felt his face had gone completely numb, he finally saw a glimmer of hope—the faint outline of a building. Though it was only a single room, it was at least a shelter from the wind and snow.
Moreover, firelight meant people. If there were people, he could ask for help.
Han Xingji’s spirits lifted, and he pushed forward. When he was about a hundred meters from the wooden hut, he could faintly hear the crackling of burning wood. He clenched his fists inside his pockets, his heart thumping. Would these people be willing to take him in?
Before he could get any closer to the hut, someone barked, “Who goes there?”
Following the voice, the door of the hut creaked open. Han Xingji saw several thin, small men huddling together as they stepped out, holding torches.
The moment they saw Han Xingji trekking through the snow, they became incredibly tense, their entire bodies shaking.
Han Xingji froze when he saw them. Even in this blizzard, wearing an ankle-length down jacket, he felt freezing. Yet these men were wearing only thin tunics—and even those were ragged and covered in patches.
Beyond that, they all had their hair tied up in buns. They didn’t look like modern people at all.
Seeing their defensive posture, Han Xingji’s heart sank, and he didn’t dare move forward.
After a moment of hesitation, he decided to try and communicate, at least to figure out where he was.
Having made up his mind, he cleared his dry throat to ask a question. But the moment he made a sound, the group across from him reacted as if they’d been electrocuted. With a loud wail, they turned and bolted, screaming as they ran, “Hei Wuchang has come for our lives! Hei Wuchang has come to reap our souls!”
By the time Han Xingji processed what was happening, the space before him was empty, leaving only messy footprints in the snow.
He watched them run off in a daze. After a long while, he let out a dejected sigh, his warm breath rising in a mist that blurred his vision.
Han Xingji waited for a bit to make sure they weren’t coming back before cautiously peering into the wooden hut. It was empty now, containing only a fire pit in the center and some firewood nearby.
Having walked in the snow for so long, he felt frozen to the bone. Now that he had found a fire, he couldn’t worry about the people who had just fled. He hurried inside, closed the door, and sat on a stone near the fire to warm up.
Once inside, he lowered his hood and shook off the melted snow. It was lucky his down jacket was waterproof; otherwise, the snow melting on him would have soaked him through.
However, after shaking off the water, he put the hood back on. This hut was built of very thin, broken wooden boards with significant gaps between them. The cold wind whistling through the cracks made the back of his head ache.
Still, the hut provided some shelter, and with the firewood and fire pit, he didn’t have to worry about freezing to death. His brain finally had the chance to think about his current situation.
Fact: All he had on him was a phone with no signal, one 80-gram bag of cat food, and two cans—one ostrich meat and one rabbit meat.
The terrain he had just traversed was mostly plains; he hadn’t seen any mountains or rivers, and there was no sign of civilization. How was he supposed to survive in such a frigid place?
A whirlwind of thoughts crashed through Han Xingji’s mind as he tried to calm down and sort out his situation. But he was just a high school senior; it was difficult to truly remain calm and plan a way out in the face of such a sudden event.
His mind wandered. His first thought was: I wonder if that cat is still downstairs? Will someone feed it?
His second thought was: Can I even go back? If I can’t, what about my early admission exams? What about the Gaokao?
Realizing where his thoughts were going, Han Xingji slapped his own cheeks and muttered, “I don’t even know if I’ll see tomorrow’s sun, there’s no point thinking about that.”
Just as he finished speaking, he heard a flurry of footsteps outside. Han Xingji’s eyes lit up—someone was there!
However, before he could feel excited for more than a few seconds, he heard a voice shout from outside, “Squad Leader! It’s right here! This is where we saw Hei Wuchang just now!”
“Scram, scram, scram! Where would Hei Wuchang come from? Someone must be playing tricks. Watch me capture him!”
Several cheers followed the man’s words. Han Xingji suddenly had a very bad feeling. Just as he stood up, the door to the hut was kicked open.