After taking a shower, it was exactly seven o’clock. He Zheng came out with a towel on his head. His phone kept vibrating—the people from the livestream platform had sent him several long voice messages asking when he would resume streaming. He hadn’t met the required streaming hours that month, and if he didn’t, he’d have to pay the penalty fee.
It was a hefty amount—once upon a time, that would have been a huge sum for him. But now, when he did the math, it was only about one-third of what his “Top Supporter” usually spent sending him gifts.
Still, even with a rich benefactor behind him, He Zheng had to stream properly. His phone battery was low, so he left it charging and opened his computer in the bedroom, adjusted the camera angle, and started the livestream.
A few days ago, before he stopped streaming, the Livestream had been filled with curses and slurs. Now that he’d gone quiet for a while, the chaos had died down. The gossip-hungry idiots had wandered off elsewhere, and the Livestream was calm again. A few of Huang Chen’s die-hard fans still came in persistently to spit insults, but after seeing He Zheng ignoring them, they cursed a few more times and left.
As soon as he started streaming, the “Top Supporter” username lit up, and a message immediately popped up on screen.
He Zheng read the message and froze. He leaned closer to the screen, rereading each word carefully.
Top Supporter: Have you eaten, baby? 😘💋
He Zheng’s expression twisted in confusion—who the hell was this greasy flirt?
Looking extremely disgusted, He Zheng watched as “Top Supporter” replied with a “?” followed by, Wifey, what’s wrong with you?
He Zheng stared at the screen, his expression darkening. His voice dropped low. “Having fun, Yang Cheng?”
Top Supporter: Yo.
An instant wave of irritation surged through him. It was still the same familiar nickname, the same red font reserved for “Top Supporter,” but now that he knew it was someone else behind the account, it just felt wrong.
“This is the second time. Give him back his account.” He Zheng rubbed his temples in frustration.
Top Supporter: He’s in a meeting. Told me to log in and send you some gifts.
He Zheng didn’t trust a word out of Yang Cheng’s smooth-talking mouth. “No need, thanks. You can rest.”
Top Supporter: Play a PK round. I’ll send you some gifts and leave.
Top Supporter: Don’t be stubborn. Hurry up.
Helpless, wanting to get it over with, He Zheng reluctantly started a PK match.
The screen split in two—He Zheng on the left, another male streamer on the right. But that other guy’s appearance… was truly something else.
He Zheng had been in the entertainment industry for eight years; he’d seen all types—ugly, beautiful, eccentric—but when he got a clear look at this one, goosebumps prickled down his arms.
The guy looked barely twenty, yet gave off a lifeless vibe. He wore a black tank top and loose black shorts, an earphone hanging around his neck. One leg was lazily propped on the desk, exposing a slim, toned waist.
What He Zheng couldn’t understand was why the guy had tattoos not only on his neck, but also under his eyes—random messy symbols etched into his skin.
“Hello,” He Zheng said, trying to stay polite. “How do we play this PK?”
Usually, streamers got confused about his gender, but this one barely glanced at him, clearly uninterested.
The man grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds, cracked two, spat the shells on the floor, and muttered, “Whatever.”
“If you lose, do some push-ups,” He Zheng suggested.
The guy gave a lazy “oh,” neither agreeing nor refusing, then turned his head and yelled toward the door, “Stop fucking knocking, I’m live!”
He didn’t mute his mic, so throughout the PK, his angry shouting and the pounding on the door could be heard. The audience watched as his temper flared higher and higher. He Zheng, who’d only ever dealt with calm, well-mannered people, didn’t know how to handle this wild temper. He wanted to diffuse the tension but was afraid of getting caught in the crossfire.
What surprised him, though, was that this guy actually had a lot of fans.
Even with Yang Cheng continuously sending gifts, they were still way behind. The other guy’s viewers seemed to love the chaos—the more the guy cursed, the more hyped they got. The barrage of comments soon unified into three words: Fight! Fight! Fight!
He Zheng quietly turned off his own mic and asked, “Can someone tell me who this guy is?”
Comment section: The son of the CEO of Huazhou Corporation.
The knocking outside the door stopped abruptly. The male streamer turned back around with a triumphant smirk and the leisure of a victor, popping sunflower seeds into his mouth again. Only now did he finally lift his eyes and give He Zheng a lazy, sidelong glance.
“Had plastic surgery?”
He Zheng, already used to this question, said calmly, “No.”
“Bullshit.”
“If you think I did, then I did.”
He Zheng couldn’t be bothered to argue with such an overenergetic kid, so he just let it slide.
The young streamer soon found him dull and uninteresting, so he opened up a ranked game on his own. Midway through, the PK ended. Whether it was Yang Cheng’s doing or not, He Zheng happened to lose to the other side by five votes.
“Alright, tell me the punishment,” He Zheng asked. “Push-ups?”
“When did I ever say you had to do push-ups?” the young streamer drawled lazily. “Pick someone and send them a message.”
“Your most recent WeChat contact,” he added casually.
He Zheng had a bad feeling. “Send what?”
The young streamer tore his eyes from the game, looked up at He Zheng, and grinned crookedly. “Tell them your bed’s cold — ask if they can come over and warm it up for you.”
He Zheng: “?”
He was so shocked he froze, but his phone immediately started buzzing nonstop. Yang Cheng, ever the chaos-lover, had bombarded him with messages, single-handedly pushing their chat to the top of the list.
“Take out your phone,” the young streamer said, scooping another handful of sunflower seeds and propping one leg up on the chair. “Show your audience who’s in your recent contacts.”
He Zheng didn’t move.
The young streamer sneered. “What, can’t handle it?”
Yang Cheng wasn’t helping — spamming the chat endlessly, shouting for He Zheng to hurry up and send it to him.
Feeling conflicted, He Zheng finally pulled out his phone, double-checked it himself, and then reluctantly turned the WeChat screen toward the camera.
The chat list appeared clearly on screen — the latest message was indeed from Yang Cheng. But above his chat box sat another pinned contact, remark name: Top Supporter.
That was the one He Zheng had just pinned yesterday.
Yang Cheng’s typing stopped dead. Then, after a few seconds, he slowly sent a single question mark.
The young streamer didn’t care about any of that nonsense and said lazily, “Send it.”
Both live rooms started spamming the chat — especially He Zheng’s. The moment the viewers saw the words “Top Supporter,” the room exploded with wild speculation.
He Zheng typed with visible hesitation, and when he was too slow, the young streamer frowned impatiently, raising his voice: “If you can’t type, send a voice message!”
Grinding his teeth, He Zheng hit send — just as a sudden BANG! echoed from the young streamer’s side. His door had been kicked open.
The young streamer yanked off his headset and slammed it down on the table, furious at being interrupted mid-snack.
The person who kicked the door didn’t appear fully in frame — only the lower half was visible: black dress pants, a leather belt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. The exposed forearm was taut with muscle, veins visible — powerful but not exaggerated.
“End the stream.”
The man’s voice was cold and sharp, carrying a natural authority — like a machine issuing orders.
The young streamer turned his head, jaw tight, and spat two sunflower seed shells toward the man’s face.
The next second, that strong arm grabbed him by the ear and yanked him up, dragging him out of the room in one swift motion.
Evil meets its match.
He Zheng wasn’t in the mood to enjoy the show, because just then, Wei Zhenye had replied — with a single period.
He had texted: My bed’s cold. Can you come over and warm it up for me?
Wei Zhenye replied: .
Too late to retract. He Zheng groaned, dragging a hand through his hair, and quickly added a follow-up: I lost a PK match, don’t overthink it.
No reply came. His heart was in chaos.
He and Wei Zhenye only ever joked around during truth-or-dare games. Now, flirting publicly in front of a live audience — that was definitely crossing a line.
He wanted to call right away, but he couldn’t risk exposing Wei Zhenye’s voice on stream. All he could do was pray for the broadcast to end soon.
Meanwhile, the live chat was going wild, spamming questions about whether he was together with his “Top Supporter.”
He Zheng’s head throbbed. He muted the chat, closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and tried to figure out how he could explain everything later without sounding completely awkward.
Ten minutes later, just as he’d finally calmed down — the doorbell rang.