No matter how sulky the system was, Lu Zhao was quite pleased. The moment the electronic voice finished announcing, she immediately said, “Use it.”
The system’s electronic voice reported listlessly, [Host level is about to upgrade. Live stream functions are updating. After the update is complete, the live stream must be closed and restarted to use the new functions.]
The live stream screen crackled with static, and many viewers asked what was happening, afraid it would go black like last time.
Lu Zhao explained via scrolling subtitle, [The host drew an upgrade card. After the host level upgrades, the live stream needs to be closed and restarted to accommodate more people. Let’s close the live stream for now.]
Viewers immediately asked, [When will the host stream again?]
Lu Zhao replied, [Not sure, depends on my mood. After the upgrade, the host can start and end the live stream at will.]
This news struck like a bolt from the blue, and the live stream instantly exploded.
[Driver No Brakes: What? The host never closed the live stream before because the level wasn’t high enough to do so? Then why upgrade?]
[Pacifier Crusader: Exactly! Lately, I’ve been relying on the host’s streams during meals. The host won’t start closing the stream often, will they?]
[February Red: Boohoo, two thousand people was fine too. Fighting for slots was exciting. Can the host downgrade?]
[Trash Talk King: Boohoo, we should’ve made the host sleep with a man before drawing cards.]
Over half the live stream protested, though some defended Lu Zhao.
[Jianmengtianxia: Enough, everyone. Have you counted? The host has been streaming continuously for a month. Even robots get tired. Can’t we give the host some private time?]
[Weilai Shouxi Zhudao: That’s right, host, close it. Everyone needs proper relaxation. Even we need rest after several consecutive surgeries.]
[Durian Is So Tasty: Close it, host. I’m tired of getting squeezed offline every day. After the upgrade, we shouldn’t have to fight to get in after work.]
Lu Zhao proactively said, [Don’t worry, everyone. At key moments or when side plots appear, the host will actively start the live stream.]
Only then did the viewers relax and quickly hit the follow button.
The next second, the live stream closed for the system upgrade.
Lu Zhao opened the live stream backend and pulled up the attribute panel to check.
[Host Name: Shen Qi/Lu Zhao]
[Age: 16]
[Gender: Disguised as Male]
[Origin: Seventh Prince of Da Yong / Hunter from Xishan Village, Liangzhou, Da Yong]
[Original Skills: Hunting. After Fusion: Combat, Assassination, Tracking, Poison Use, Medicine Making, Others]
[Combat Power: 23]
[Acquired Skills: Speed Card (Consumed)]
[Mental Power: 3]
[Host Followers: 4000]
[Current Host Popularity Value: 10,327 points]
[Current Host Level: LV2. Maximum Live Stream Capacity: 5000 viewers. Can manually start/end live stream. Can freely adjust stream angles: close-up, long shot, panoramic view. Live stream range expanded by 20 meters. Can view high-definition map within 100-meter radius centered on streaming location, with all living beings marked on the map.]
So miraculous?
Lu Zhao asked, “System, what’s the highest host level?”
The system replied weakly, [The current highest level of this Live Stream System is LV5. Each level requires different Popularity Value to upgrade, accommodates different numbers of viewers, and has more powerful functions. For example, the viewable high-definition map – at LV5, you can survey the situation within a hundred-mile radius.]
In this era of primitive weapon warfare, being able to survey a hundred-mile radius would be an invaluable military asset.
Lu Zhao suddenly felt somewhat interested in leveling up her streamer rank, though she didn’t show it. She repeatedly reviewed the functions available after upgrading.
There was still no method to upgrade mental power.
Last time her mental power upgraded was when the system tampered with backend data – she was electrocuted unconscious and woke up with the enhancement. So, was mental power related to data tampering, or to system punishment?
Data tampering was unlikely now, and system punishment only occurred when Side Quests failed…
[System, when will there be Side Quests?]
The system listlessly replied, [Side Quests are randomly issued based on events the host encounters. They’re minor events that can promote the progress of main quests. The system can’t determine when they’ll be issued either.]
Lu Zhao frowned, and the system immediately added: “LV3 streamers can independently initiate Side Quests to receive audience donations, and viewers can also post bounties for Side Quests.”
Lu Zhao: “How much Popularity Value is needed for LV3 streamer?”
System: “50,000 Popularity Value.”
Lu Zhao: Never mind.
She’d better wait for the system to issue the next quest. Next time a Side Quest appears, she could intentionally fail it to receive system punishment and see if that could enhance her mental power.
Just as she finished this thought, footsteps sounded at the door. She immediately exited the backend interface and sat upright at the table, continuing to practice calligraphy.
The door opened and Qiao Chi entered, carrying a tray with a thick cloak. He placed the tray before Lu Zhao and said awkwardly, “This is newly made winter clothing. Father said winter is coming and it might snow in a few days. He wants Your Highness to dress warmly so you don’t fall ill again.”
Lu Zhao reached for the winter clothes, but as she raised her hand, she couldn’t suppress a coughing fit, her thin shoulders trembling with each cough.
Qiao Chi grew anxious, reaching out as if to pat her back but unsure where to start. His tone was somewhat agitated: “Why are you coughing again? Didn’t you take many tonics? Why is your health still so weak?”
Lu Zhao noticed: whenever she showed signs of physical weakness, the Qiao father and son would fear she might follow Consort Mei’s fate and die young.
Especially Qiao Chi – every time he saw her frail figure, he couldn’t help shaking his head, then awkwardly caring for her while pretending to be annoyed.
Lu Zhao stopped coughing and said weakly, “Probably my weak constitution can’t handle strong tonics.” I should use milder prescriptions to build a foundation first before taking the medicine from Xie Zhoumu. Later I’ll write a prescription – could you go to the pharmacy to get the herbs for me? Don’t decoct them – I need to make them into pills.”
Qiao Chi nodded. After Lu Zhao wrote the prescription, he took it and left.
Just a few steps outside the door, he bumped into Qiao Bing, who glared at him with tiger-like eyes and scolded, “Where are you rushing off to in such a hurry?”
Qiao Chi explained about the prescription and said urgently, “It’s getting dark – if I don’t go to the pharmacy now, it will close.”
Qiao Bing glanced at the prescription in his hand, noticed the words ‘alum,’ and his eyes flickered slightly. He asked, “You haven’t eaten yet, right? Give me the prescription – I’ll go to the pharmacy. You go eat first.”
Qiao Chi hesitated, and Qiao Bing slapped the back of his head: “What are you spacing out for, kid?”
Qiao Chi: “Father, are you… are you concerned about me?”
Qiao Bing gave a soft hum of acknowledgment. Qiao Chi’s eyes instantly brightened as he handed over the prescription in his hand, saying, “Then please return early, Father.”
Qiao Bing nodded, took the prescription, and left. When he reached the pharmacy, he pulled out the prescription and handed it to the shopkeeper, asking, “Shopkeeper, can alum also be used as medicine?”
The shopkeeper chuckled while examining the prescription, “Sir, you must be uninformed. Everything under the sun can be used as medicine. This ‘alum’ has astringent and blood-nourishing properties. Combined with the other herbs in this prescription, it can strengthen the foundation, replenish vitality, and boost energy.” He studied the prescription again and praised, “This prescription is truly masterful. Which physician wrote it?”
Qiao Bing made up a random excuse, collected the medicine, and left. He handed the medicine to Qiao Chi, who, after finishing his evening meal, delivered it to Lu Zhao.
That night, the two still shared a room at the inn.
Lu Zhao slept on the bed, while Qiao Chi slept on the floor.
By midnight, a faint fragrance had spread throughout the room. Qiao Chi’s hands, which had been resting on his abdomen, slipped limply to his sides as he fell into an unusually deep slumber.
Lu Zhao draped a thick coat over her shoulders, rose from the bed, and sat at the table. She spread out brush, ink, paper, and inkstone and began her work. Nearing the hour of the ox (1-3 a.m.), she finally completed the letter.
From the envelope to the thickness of the wax seal, the letter was indistinguishable from Consort Mei’s original.
Now came the task of swapping the letters.
She tucked the letter into her robes and quietly returned to bed.
As the first light of dawn tinged the horizon, the convoy set off once more.
A thick layer of frost coated the rooftops outside. Lu Zhao wore the cloak that had been delivered the previous night, enveloping herself from head to toe. Her slender neck was completely covered, and the lower half of her face was hidden by the white fur trim of the collar, making her appear less gaunt.
When Qiao Bing saw her emerge, he bowed to her.
Lu Zhao asked him, “How much longer until we reach Zhongdu?”
Qiao Bing calculated before replying, “We’ve only just entered Jingzhou territory. After passing through Jingzhou, we must cross Yongzhou and ford the Huai River before reaching Zhongdu. If all goes smoothly, it should take about two and a half months. If not… we might arrive around the new year.”
After the new year? Wouldn’t that be four months?
Ancient transportation was such a pain.
But the long duration meant she had ample time to switch the letters during the journey.
She lifted the hem of her cloak and climbed into the carriage, stumbling slightly and nearly hitting her face on the carriage handle. Qiao Bing hurried forward to steady her. After thanking him, she successfully boarded the carriage.
As the carriage began to move, Lu Zhao brushed the dust from her clothes and pondered: I took the chance to check earlier—the letter isn’t on Qiao Bing’s chest or in his sleeves…
He must have grown wary after I saw the letter last time.
She lifted the carriage curtain and glanced back, a cold glint flashing in her eyes: Where would he hide the letter this time? Among the convoy’s goods? With a trusted subordinate? Or had it already been sent ahead to Zhongdu?