Although Tan Ze grew his hair long and had been recognized throughout the county since childhood as “good-looking”—someone who, according to Lei Miaomiao, could even get a discount buying eggs on the street—he genuinely wasn’t gay.
At least not right now.
When he first started growing his hair out, it was purely because he thought it looked good and had personality.
Later, after formally entering the livestreaming industry, his streamer friend Xu Xiu, who brought him into the fold, gave him an idea: a handsome guy like him could totally grow his hair long.
This creates a memorable hook and makes it easier to attract fans. When people ask about sexual orientation, you should act mysterious and not answer—to put it accurately, pretend to be a mysterious gay man. A lot of people bought into that routine nowadays.
Even though Tan Ze didn’t understand what was so mysterious about being gay.
But the reality was indeed that among current male entertainment streamers, handsome guys were a dime a dozen, whereas Tan Ze’s features were very soft, leaning slightly toward a feminine aesthetic. Walking this track made it easier to capture traffic. Once the traffic stabilized, it would be much easier to consider transitioning later on.
For the sake of livestreaming, he grew his hair out completely, and over time it had grown all the way down his back.
He cherished this head of hair and had developed an emotional attachment to it. Tan Ze felt that even if he stopped livestreaming in the future, he wouldn’t cut off this long hair.
Even though this long hair had already brought him a lot of “gay rumors,” with many people refusing to believe he was straight.
The truth was that he really was straight and knew nothing about the gay community. The only gay person he knew was Liang Xubai.
Hating the priest, he hated the bell; because of this, he even harbored a slight dislike for gay people.
“To be honest, I think you and Liang Xubai really have some bad karma between you.” Lei Miaomiao had drunk two bottles of beer and was already starting to slur his words.
“Look at it: when you were a fresh freshman, you entered a competition project, pulled all-nighters for half a month, and then your project spot got snatched away by a privileged connection like Liang Xubai.”
“In your sophomore year, you entered a competition where internal recommendations had already locked you in, but Liang Xubai parachute-landed and squeezed you out. Barely two days after squeezing you out, he gave it back to you, but you weren’t prepared, played around like crazy for two days, and ended up walking away empty-handed.”
“You do student council work and you’re always running into Liang Xubai, and the guy has a million quirks. Now the two of you are living together… Wouldn’t you call that bad karma?”
Listening to Lei Miaomiao review the history of grievances between him and Liang Xubai over the past two years, Tan Ze felt a rising ball of fire in his chest.
His relationship with Liang Xubai was genuinely not good.
Back when Tan Ze was at his most hot-blooded and arrogant, he didn’t understand that university was a miniature society, nor did he understand the rule of not easily provoking anyone. He only knew that when he felt wronged, he had to vent it out.
At that time, after a school event ended, he was chatting with friends backstage and brought up Liang Xubai. Tan Ze said that Liang Xubai just knew how to be born well, winning at the starting line, and wasn’t anything special.
Then the back of Tan Ze’s neck grew slightly warm—Liang Xubai had materialized behind him without a sound, looking at Tan Ze with a tease in his voice: “Then why didn’t you manage to be born into a good family?”
Ever since then, the two of them had been at odds. Tan Ze would badmouth Liang Xubai outside every three days, and Liang Xubai would trip him up or make things unpleasant for him over the tiniest little things.
And yet, despite all that, the two of them ended up living under the same roof, forced to look at each other day in and day out.
Hand on heart, while Tan Ze envied and was jealous of people who were born with abundant social resources and wealth, he also understood how to leverage momentum.
Having more contact and deep friendships with such people wasn’t a bad thing, and he did have a few friends from well-off family backgrounds.
But as for a guy like Liang Xubai, Tan Ze only wanted to keep him at a respectful distance.
Tan Ze finished off the remaining sips at the bottom of his beer bottle, shrugged, and said, “Liang Xubai is graduating in a year. After he graduates, he definitely won’t stay in Jiang City; he’ll probably head back to the capital. This bad karma won’t last much longer.”
“With degrees devaluing so badly these days, isn’t he going to take the postgrad exams?”
Tan Ze was amused by how foolish this question was. “His family runs a large company! Do you think he’s me?”
“Besides, his grades probably qualify him for a recommendation for grad school. I don’t know if he applied or not.”
Lei Miaomiao: “Seriously, Tan Ze, if you had a better relationship with him, who knows—your future job hunt might even take care of itself.”
“You really are a visionary.” Tan Ze raised a hand and flicked Lei Miaomiao on the forehead. “Miaomiao, let me tell you. I might suck up to anyone. I could even stream cross-dressing online, but I will never suck up to Liang Xubai.”
“Not even if I die.”
Tan Ze’s voice was very soft as he said those last five words.
Lei Miaomiao was slightly taken aback by his inexplicable emotional shift and quickly changed the subject: “Why do you keep calling me Miaomiao! I’ve told you how many times you need to call me Lei-ge!”
Tan Ze laughed again, giving a couple of casual hums of agreement.
By the time they finished dinner and went back home, it was already nine o’clock in the evening.
The living room lights were off; Liang Xubai wasn’t home.
Tan Ze let out a sudden breath of relief, slipping off his shoes and collapsing onto the sofa like he had no bones in his body. The imported sofa cradled his body completely. He shifted slightly, brushing aside some hair that had gotten pinned underneath him.
He opened his phone and was startled by the massive number of notification alerts on his streaming account.
Tan Ze quickly tapped in, only to discover that the livestream clip of Liang Xubai catching him wearing a dress last night had gone mini-viral.
In the video, his exposed skin and cheeks had instantly turned bright red the moment the male voice rang out, all set to some chaotic, mismatched background music.
Tan Ze dazedly clicked into the comment section of the clip, then exited it with a heart as dead as ash.
In his wildest dreams, Tan Ze never thought he’d live to see people saying he had a secret crush on Liang Xubai.
Some people were actually saying he had a crush on Liang Xubai!
What kind of inexplicable trope was this—some little boy hiding in his room wearing a dress, only to be caught red-handed by the crush of his dreams…
A heavy, stuffy pressure weighed on Tan Ze’s chest. He felt like a mouthful of old blood was stuck in his throat, refusing to go up or down.
These people must all be blind!
……
“Xubai, how are you and your new roommate getting along?”
“Not great.”
Liang Xubai tapped a fingertip against the smooth bar counter, watching the performance in the dead center without much interest. Two contemporary dancers were standing on the wide circular stage, performing a silent dance drama.
The dancers were currently portraying two people parting ways in bitter sorrow. The surrounding atmosphere wasn’t completely quiet, but apart from Liang Xubai, almost no one else was bothering to cast a glance at the boring performance.
Zhai Xu raised a hand with a flick of his wrist, and a waiter standing nearby handed over a newly opened bottle of liquor. He poured a glass for Liang Xubai himself.
“No way, the junior looked pretty well-behaved. I was chatting with him when I came over to your place last time.”
Zhai Xu still had a pretty good impression of Tan Ze. Tan Ze was easy to talk to, very extroverted, possessed high emotional intelligence, and was also quite pretty.
Liang Xubai pushed the glass away and asked with an amused, rhetorical smile: “Pretty well-behaved? Looks like you got fooled by him.”
“In his eyes, we’re probably all spoiled rich kids.”
Zhai Xu didn’t care much about the label and let out a careless laugh. “I am a spoiled rich kid, to be fair. My dad is an old spoiled kid, my grandfather is a super old spoiled kid, and my great-grandfather… my great-grandfather is a mega old spoiled kid.”
“Don’t start reciting your family tree here.” Liang Xubai glanced at him sideways. “You’re taking this remarkably well.”
Zhai Xu: “Because I actually live off my family’s wealth, unlike you—letting your dad’s fortune sit there untouched while you play independent. It’s weird, though. If he thought of me as a rich kid, I’d accept it. Why did he think you were one too?”
“Class resentment, probably.” Liang Xubai thought of all the snide things Tan Ze had said behind his back, and let out a scoff. “Not only class resentment, but he’s also deeply homophobic. Just last night, he called me a f*cking gay guy.”
“He’s a straight guy?!” Zhai Xu choked, spitting out a mouthful of alcohol. The spilled liquid dribbled down and soaked the front of his pants. With absolute disbelief in his voice, he said, “And here I thought he was totally your type… Judging by your tone, you really hate him.”
Liang Xubai pulled his stool back in distaste. “Hate’s a strong word, but I definitely don’t like him.”
Liang Xubai had known of Tan Ze for a long time. He’d known about him ever since Tan Ze first entered school, having met him during a team project competition.
Just as Zhai Xu had said, Tan Ze’s looks were very much his type. At the time, Tan Ze had been wearing a button-down dress shirt and trousers, with his hair styled in an awkward, growing-out bob cut.
He had been sitting in the cafeteria eating with a few upperclassmen, his cheeks stuffed full of food.
He was actually pretty cute.
Back then, Liang Xubai had a fairly decent impression of Tan Ze. But later on, Tan Ze was always making petty, snide remarks behind his back, and his personality turned out to be lightyears away from the “obedient” image Liang Xubai had imagined. It was the first time he’d ever run into someone who could be so utterly unreasonable yet act so righteous about it.
“So you’re just planning to keep living with him like this?”
Zhai Xu knew his childhood friend inside and out; he understood how his mind worked. Liang Xubai was never one to tolerate a raw deal, absolutely refused to let himself be wronged, and had a fiercely vengeful streak.
Was there any chance he’d let Tan Ze keep squatting right under his nose?
Liang Xubai gave a faint, unreadable smile. “Let him stay for now. I want to see how long he can hold out.”
Zhai Xu looked at Liang Xubai with a complicated expression, a strong sense that Liang Xubai’s smile was harboring malicious intentions. “You don’t like him, yet you’re letting him stay at your place. Why are you putting yourself through this for no reason?”
“I caught him wearing a dress last night.” Interest flicked in Liang Xubai’s eyes as he arched a single brow at Zhai Xu. “I suddenly find this guy pretty interesting.”
“……”
Watching Liang Xubai’s expression, Zhai Xu silently lit a virtual funeral candle for Tan Ze in his heart.
Liang Xubai didn’t stay for more than two drinks before heading back to Bay View. By the time he arrived, Tan Ze was already shut away in his own room.
Bay View was an apartment Liang Xubai’s parents had bought years ago. The building was a bit older, and the soundproofing wasn’t top-tier; standing right outside the bedroom door, you could still catch faint, muffled noises from inside.
As Liang Xubai walked past Tan Ze’s door, he heard the faint sound of music leaking through.
When the power went out last night, Tan Ze had been playing music too.
Who knew if he was wearing a dress again today?
Liang Xubai spent some time working in the study as usual, then took a moment to call his older brother. By the time he finished up, showered, and came back out, Zhai Xu had flooded him with over a dozen messages.
Liang Xubai wiped the remaining water from his hair and tapped open the chat box.
Zhai Xu: [Video.mp4]
Zhai Xu: [Isn’t this Tan Ze and you?]
Zhai Xu: [This is definitely you!]
Zhai Xu: [Holy crap, is Tan Ze actually doing cross-dressing streams online? Is this something a straight guy would do?]
Zhai Xu: [Is he really straight? He blushed so hard just seeing you walk in… Could he be a deeply closeted gay man?] …
Zhai Xu: [Say something!]
Liang Xubai: [Send me his channel handle.]
…….
Because of the sudden blackout yesterday, and to prevent people from seizing on it to claim he was deliberately dodging his punishment, Tan Ze put on his dress costume again.
He had a bit of scheming in him, after all. Since his livestream clip had just picked up some online traction during the day, wearing the same outfit would make it much easier to pull in organic traffic.
Tan Ze went through his usual routine: turning on the broadcast, cueing the music, and adjusting the lighting. Barely a moment after the stream went live, a surge of viewers flooded into the room. Though his numbers couldn’t compare to his friend Xu Xiu, compared to his usual self, it was explosive growth.
Tan Ze finally understood what Xu Xiu meant when he said “this path is easy to walk.”
The names flashing by in the chat were entirely unfamiliar, though an occasional familiar name would zip past.
Tan Ze felt dizzy watching the rapidly scrolling comments. After reading intently for a while, he realized the chat was overwhelmingly dominated by questions about last night. He didn’t answer directly; instead, he started his broadcast with a beaming smile.
“We’re doing PK battles today. As soon as Xu Xiu comes online, pull me in,” Tan Ze said, smoothing down his hair. “Traffic is pretty good today; I’m hoping I don’t lose too miserably when we do the PKs later.”
[Lmao, this streamer has been doing PKs for half a month and lost for half a month straight. Never won once.]
[Always losing to Xu Xiu, always battling Xu Xiu.]
Tan Ze put on a troubled, reluctant expression. “I’ve been trying my absolute hardest to rally votes, you guys. Let’s just try not to lose too ugly today, yeah?”
[Make Xu Xiu punish you into wearing a dress every day.]
Tan Ze smiled and chatted with the chatroom for a bit until, shortly after, he received a stream connection request from Xu Xiu.
Xu Xiu’s viewership numbers were quite decent. Every day when he first went live, he would connect with Tan Ze and two other small-time streamers to help boost their popularity and traffic. The other two were entertainment streamers named Xiao Cai and Tie Cha, both signed to the same talent agency as Xu Xiu.
Tan Ze was an independent creator; his spot was purely because he and Xu Xiu were good friends.
Once connected, Tan Ze greeted the three of them.
Xu Xiu specialized in the visual-appeal category. Strictly speaking, his route overlapped a bit with Tan Ze’s, but since Xu Xiu was actively funneling traffic his way, Tan Ze felt genuinely grateful to him.
“Flossy Yanbei looks so pretty today,” Xu Xiu said, his eyes curving into smiles. “I picked the punishment, don’t you think I’ve got great foresight?”
Xiao Cai chimed in: “In that case, if Flossy Yanbei loses today, we should punish him by making him wear it again.”
After what went down last night, Tan Ze actually felt a lingering dread. Wearing a dress inside Liang Xubai’s house—and with a guy who was completely unreasonable to boot, what if the guy randomly decided to barge into his room again without warning or reason? The “cross-dresser” label would genuinely become permanent.
Tan Ze hurriedly waved his hands. “If that’s the case, I’m definitely going to lose! With a punishment like that, nobody’s going to score points for me. Can we change the punishment?”
Tie Cha threw him a lifeline: “Let’s stick to the classic three, then. Just posting a video will do. What’s the format today? Capture three out of four or group battles?”
Xu Xiu smiled. “Let’s do an overall leaderboard round first, then split into groups afterward.”
As the host, Xu Xiu always held the most authority. Besides, among them, Tan Ze had the lowest traffic. Xiao Cai and Tie Cha could rack up substantial points in a PK round, and since overall leaderboard rankings heavily relied on luck anyway, no one had any objections.
Before the match started, they muted their mics to chat privately. Tan Ze casually exchanged a few words with his stream room. The vast majority of the chat was still badgering him about last night, but he wasn’t in the mood to touch that subject right now.
“Want to know about my personal life? Send a Carnival first, babies,” Tan Ze deflected with a casual evasion.
The scrolling speed of the chat slowed down for a second before a fresh wave of angry comments erupted, calling him a gold-digger, a liar, and throwing a petty attitude. A few of Tan Ze’s die-hard fans popped up to start bickering with them.
Before long, the chat was in complete chaos.
“Mods, please ban that account,” Tan Ze was already used to it. “Leave the fan club members alone, though.”
Tan Ze only had one moderator, and their banning speed couldn’t keep up with the speed at which the trolls were arguing. By the time Xu Xiu finished his private chat and started a PK round, Tan Ze was still faithfully plugging away alongside his mod, banning accounts.
Tan Ze chanted under his breath: “Everyone who has little hearts, send some hearts. Those with sports cars can send sports cars, send whatever you’ve got… uh, if you want to send rotten eggs, you can send those too. If you don’t have any, just tap the like button, let’s keep the sportsmanship up.”
“If you make the top ten on the leaderboard, I’ll do a sign-held photo in women’s clothes.”
As soon as Tan Ze said that, Mingming—a regular who often gifted him—flung a sports car and dropped a message in the public chat to help stabilize the room. Tan Ze smiled. “Thanks for the sports car, Mingming-ge. Mingming-ge, you’ve been watching me for so long, how about I make you a mod?”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a dazzling flurry of gift effects suddenly exploded across the livestream room. Neon-colored gift animations slowly rose from the bottom, spinning in a circle to spell out three bold characters: “Carnival.”
[Black Dog gifted a Carnival in “Flossy Yanbei’s” livestream room!]
Tan Ze froze mid-ban, his score shooting up by thirty thousand points right behind his username.
[Holy crap!!]
[No way, the gold-digger actually hooked a whale.]
[Streamer’s out here shedding tears of joy over a fifteen-hundred cut.]
[How is there actually someone willing to drop a gift like that?!]
It was Tan Ze’s first time receiving a Carnival. Seeing the animation was completely surreal, and he even wondered if he was hallucinating. After all, he figured nobody in their right mind would drop three thousand bucks to ask a personal question like that—weren’t they just asking to throw money away?
While stunned, Tan Ze’s brain immediately locked onto his fifteen-hundred-yuan commission.
Fifteen hundred!
[Black Dog: Are you straight?]
Black Dog sent a message to the chat.
[Black Dog: Give me a satisfactory answer and I’ll drop another one.]