That night after the stream ended, He Zheng didn’t have any nightmares. He slept deeply and peacefully. Even though rain lashed against the windows all night, it didn’t wake him.
He slept straight through until the next afternoon. When he woke up, the rain outside had stopped. He went downstairs to get a package, without an umbrella — and right then, the weather changed again.
Rain poured down suddenly, catching him off guard. He returned home drenched, water dripping from his hair onto the floor.
He took a towel to dry his hair, shook off the water from the package, and opened it. It was a thick, long dress sent by He Linlin.
Every dress He Zheng had worn growing up had been hand-sewn by He Linlin. Her hands were much more expressive than her words. As his foster mother, she couldn’t be openly affectionate — so all her unspoken care was stitched into the clothes she made.
He Zheng tried it on. It was still his favorite color — black — and still a size smaller than the standard measurement. Maybe it was an illusion, but he felt… thinner.
His build wasn’t exactly slender, and since he often had to play female roles, he had to control his diet very strictly. At 182 cm, even a little weight gain would look awkward on camera. To help him maintain his figure, He Linlin always made the clothes one size smaller.
But this time… the waistline seemed even narrower, leaving a small gap between the dress and his body.
He really had lost weight.
That realization made He Zheng quite happy. To celebrate, he ordered three low-fat meals in one go.
While waiting for the food delivery, he opened WeChat, checked all the group chats for casting calls, and sent his résumé to several crews.
Just as he was about to put his phone away, a message popped up — the Top Supporter had randomly sent a rolling dice emoji.
He quickly withdrew it and explained: [Wrong press.]
He Zheng was bored anyway while waiting for food, so he asked casually: [You wanna play?]
Top Supporter: [Play what?]
He Zheng: [Dice.]
Top Supporter replied instantly: [Sure.]
Too lazy to type, He Zheng — as usual — called directly. And, as usual, the Top Supporter reflexively hung up right away, only to call back the next second, embarrassed.
He Zheng drawled lazily, “Heeello~”
“Sorry,” the Top Supporter said softly. “I got nervous.”
“You get nervous just seeing my call?” He Zheng laughed. “Weren’t you acting all tough last night in the stream?”
“…”
The Top Supporter didn’t dare admit that the reason he wasn’t nervous during the live was because there were other viewers. But when it was just the two of them, his heart would always beat a little too fast.
He Zheng had no idea what was going on in the other’s mind. “So, how do you wanna play? Truth or dare?”
The Top Supporter thought seriously, hesitating between safe and risky, and finally chose the safer option.
“Truth.”
He Zheng clicked his tongue, unsurprised. He sent the dice emoji; it rolled once and landed on 6.
“I win,” he said, stretching lazily.
Even though he’d already lost, the Top Supporter stubbornly rolled his own dice — and for some reason, it spun seven or eight times before landing on a pitiful 1.
He Zheng began the truth game with a polite question. “I wanna ask — have you eaten?”
“….”
The Top Supporter had braced himself for something deeply personal and didn’t expect such a simple question.
“I have.”
He Zheng rolled again. The Top Supporter followed suit. This time, the result flipped — He Zheng lost. While the Top Supporter was thinking about what to ask, He Zheng went to the door to pick up his delivery.
Hearing the sound of food containers being opened, the Top Supporter asked naturally, “What are you eating?”
“Are we playing truth or saliva talk?” He Zheng teased. “Low-fat meal.”
The Top Supporter said nothing, quietly rolled again. His luck was awful — another 1.
He Zheng didn’t even bother rolling this time. “Alright, I’ll ask something a bit more personal.”
“Mm!”
“No, seriously—” He Zheng laughed at his tone. “Why do you sound so eager?”
The Top Supporter urged, “Just ask.”
He Zheng brushed his hair behind his ear, took a bite of food, and mumbled, “Where are you right now?”
“At home.”
He Zheng lowered his eyes. “Where’s home?”
The Top Supporter suddenly realized what he was really asking. He answered truthfully, “Mexico.”
He Zheng didn’t reply immediately. He checked the time on his phone — 4 p.m.
“What time is it there in Mexico?”
“2:20 a.m.”
“So late?” He Zheng slowed his chewing. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
After a short silence, the Top Supporter said quietly, “Didn’t want to miss your stream.”
He Zheng fell silent.
Outside, the rain started again, pattering softly against the window. A cool breeze slipped in through the gap. He Zheng set down his chopsticks and went to close it.
He glanced downstairs. The trash bin was stuffed to the brim, reeking so badly it could make one gag. In such a filthy environment, one could easily imagine how miserable the person who once crawled out of it must have been.
While his thoughts were wandering, the Top Supporter, who hadn’t received a response, assumed that his earlier words had been too direct, making He Zheng uncomfortable. So he carefully probed,
“Still playing?”
He Zheng opened his mouth to say “yes,” but just then, a rejection notification popped up on his phone — a reply from the production crew he’d sent his résumé to.
As expected, they hadn’t chosen him.
“…Appearance doesn’t fit,” He Zheng read out the rejection reason word by word, then shrugged, half-jokingly, “Maybe I really should cut my hair.”
The Top Supporter quickly caught on and tried to comfort him. “You just haven’t found the right role yet.”
“It’s not that the role isn’t right — I’m not right,” He Zheng corrected him. “Few production teams would cast a man to play a female role. They can easily hire a woman.”
He looked at his long hair that reached his waist and gave a self-deprecating smile. “Do you think if I cut it, I’d have a better chance?”
“Maybe,” the Top Supporter’s voice softened, “but if you do… maybe you won’t suit wearing dresses anymore.”
He Zheng paused for a moment before realizing it. “That’s true.”
“So don’t cut it yet. Try a few other crews first,” the Top Supporter said.
He Zheng didn’t reply. He walked from the window back to the couch, poked at a few pieces of chicken breast from his diet meal, and changed the subject. “Wanna keep playing dice?”
The Top Supporter revealed a hint of mischief. “If I win, can I ask two questions at once?”
“Sure,” He Zheng agreed easily. “But if I ask something personal, don’t get mad and block me.”
That was exactly what the Top Supporter wanted — he’d be more than happy for He Zheng to ask about everything down to the color of his underwear. But he couldn’t say that, so he hurriedly threw the dice.
The little cube spun three times, slowing down. A faint six appeared on one side, and he held his breath, staring at the screen with cautious excitement.
It landed on 6.
But two seconds later, without warning, it gave a last dying twitch —
— flipping over to reveal a cold, mocking 1.
Through gritted teeth, the Top Supporter squeezed out, “…F***.”
He Zheng cleared his throat and reminded him, “No swearing.”
“Aren’t you the one eager for me to ask personal questions?”
A “I just wanted to win” got stuck in the Top Supporter’s throat. He pressed his lips together and mumbled, “Go ahead.”
“I’m really gonna ask,” He Zheng teased, drawing out the words. “Be ready.”
“Mm.”
“How many girlfriends have you had?”
“…”
The Top Supporter went silent for a while. He Zheng wasn’t in a hurry — he closed the meal container, leaned back on the couch, and lit a post-meal cigarette.
After a moment, the Top Supporter answered softly, “None.”
He Zheng let out a low, amused hum. “We’re playing truth here.”
Rich, good-looking, generous, young — a guy like that never dated? Even a dog wouldn’t believe it.
“I know,” the Top Supporter said, voice quiet but steady. “Really. Never.”
He Zheng bit down on the cigarette and asked his next question, “Second one — do you plan to date anyone?”
“Yes.”
“Who?” He Zheng exhaled a puff of white smoke, eyes half-lidded. “Is she pretty?”
The Top Supporter was surprisingly clear-headed. “You said two questions. That’s the third.”
“Oh, right,” He Zheng said, realizing. He threw another dice. The Top Supporter followed instantly — from how fast he reacted, it was clear he really wanted to win this time.
For once, luck was on his side — no more cursed ones. He rolled a 5.
He Zheng couldn’t even hear him breathing through the phone; the guy was that nervous.
Even though He Zheng only had a one-in-six chance to win, seeing how eager the other was made him grin. Before throwing his dice, he teased, “Maybe you should beg it for luck.”
The Top Supporter gritted his teeth. “I’m begging you to roll already.”
The dice spun and stopped. When the result appeared, He Zheng genuinely felt happy for him — the Top Supporter finally won.
The man’s voice trembled slightly with excitement as he tried to steady his breathing. “Then you—” he said, “what about you?”
He Zheng blinked. “What about me?”
“Do you plan to date anyone?”
He Zheng flicked the ash from his cigarette, thought for barely a second, and answered calmly, “No.”