Siyin opened her eyes again to find herself in a cramped room. It was hard to miss the mountain of delivery boxes piled on the floor.
Bang! The door was shoved open from the outside.
Song Zhizhi, hearing no movement and assuming Siyin wasn’t home, barged in. Seeing Siyin lying motionless on the bed gave her a fright. She instinctively blurted out:
“Holy crap!”
Siyin frowned. “Why didn’t you knock before coming in?”
“With our relationship, who needs to knock?” Song Zhizhi replied with feigned familiarity.
Siyin remained silent, sensing immediately that she was lying.
“Who sent all these?” Song Zhizhi pried, her eyes darting around. “Here, let me help you unpack them,” she added, already reaching for a box.
“No need. I’m tired and want to rest. Please leave,” Siyin said bluntly, her gaze fixed on Song Zhizhi.
Forced to leave, Song Zhizhi stared longingly at the pile of packages. As she closed the door, she shot Siyin a venomous glare, quickly shutting it the moment Siyin looked her way.
Once alone, a white fluff-ball appeared out of thin air—the Heavenly Dao of this world.
“I’m transmitting the plot of this world to you now.”
“Let’s draw the world’s ‘bug’ first,” Siyin prayed, closing her eyes tight. “God bless, please don’t let it be as disastrous as the last world!”
Ding! The sound echoed in her ears. The Heavenly Dao’s voice followed: “In this world, you must maintain the character persona required by the plot.”
“Phew!” Siyin sighed in relief and began reviewing the story as the white fluff-ball slowly faded away.
This world revolves around the entertainment industry. The original Siyin was a fresh university graduate facing a tough job market. Hearing that livestreaming was lucrative, she decided to try it, choosing “group streaming” over solo streaming. She had a “tear-incontinence” constitution—meaning she cried involuntarily—which led people to label her a “Green Tea Bitch” (manipulative and fake). However, after starting group streaming, she unexpectedly went viral. Many netizens felt sorry for her, showering her with tips and gifts.
The “heroine” of this world, however, is Song Zhizhi. She joined the company at the same time as the original Siyin but chose solo streaming, hoping to strike it rich on her own. When her career failed to gain traction, she targeted Siyin, using their shared entry into the company to manipulate Siyin into confiding in her.
Thinking she simply chose the wrong format, Song Zhizhi asked Siyin for help to join a group. Siyin helped her get into the same streaming group. Even then, Song Zhizhi failed to get famous. Instead of self-reflecting, she blamed Siyin. Knowing about Siyin’s tear-incontinence, she deliberately antagonized her to frame herself as a “poor victim bullied by a fake girl.”
Siyin’s anti-fans grew, but since the livestream traffic was soaring, the company refused to clarify the situation, preferring to let others “climb over” Siyin for fame. Fortunately, Siyin’s true fans stayed loyal.
The top donor (the “Big Boss”) of the livestream room is the male lead, Li Jue. Not only is his family business massive, but he also owns the top entertainment company. His initial username was “Only Love Yinyin,” but because Siyin was shy, he changed it to “WY.”
Seeing that Siyin was still making money despite the hate, Song Zhizhi used the gifts she had stolen while “helping” unpack to post suggestive videos from burner accounts, implying Siyin was re-gifting or selling her fans’ presents. The livestream room exploded with drama; Siyin’s true fans turned into haters, and her income plummeted. Siyin wasn’t stupid; seeing the evidence, she knew Song Zhizhi had framed her. She quit livestreaming entirely, wanting nothing more to do with the industry.
Song Zhizhi gained a following of “guilt-tripped” fans (mostly Siyin’s ex-fans) by stepping over Siyin. But her real goal was the male lead. Now wealthy, she hired someone to hack Siyin’s phone to get the top donor’s contact info. She tried to smear Siyin to get him to support her instead, but failed. She then tricked him into a meeting by saying Siyin wanted to see him. When he realized he was duped, he refused to help her.
Desperate, Song Zhizhi tried to drug him to force a scandal. Siyin, who had followed Song Zhizhi to confront her, encountered the drugged male lead. She saved him, but things escalated, and “what should happen, happened.” Though Siyin cried the whole time (due to her condition), she was open-minded, thinking she’d “lucked out” sleeping with such a handsome, rich man. However, her tear-incontinence meant that every time she spoke, she sounded like she was sobbing in misery.
Li Jue, believing he had defiled their “pure” online love and that Siyin hated him for forcing her, was devastated. He had wanted to transition their love from online to offline, but now he felt it was ruined. After ruining the female lead, he committed suicide, causing the world to collapse.
The original Siyin’s wish is to fall in love with the male lead.
Siyin was curious why. Closing her eyes, she tried to step into the original’s shoes. She realized the original cried constantly, but her heart was often a calm sea; her emotions didn’t match her tears. If not for the uncontrollable crying, she might have been a stoic “poker face.”
Siyin tried to trigger it. She thought of every sad thing she could imagine, but her eyes remained dry.
Where is the tear-incontinence?
Siyin flopped back onto the bed. She realized the “bug”: The “must maintain persona” rule applied, but the physical “tear-incontinence” hadn’t transferred to her automatically. This was supposed to be easy mode, but it was going to be tough!
She stretched and went to take a shower. In the mirror, her skin was so pale it almost glowed, her figure slender. Looking closely at her face, she looked like the ultimate “good girl”—round eyes that were currently rimmed with red from her earlier effort to cry, making them look perpetually misty.
She pinched her cheek; it turned red instantly. Combined with those eyes, no one could tell if she was actually crying or not.
Hehehe!
Having figured out her “performance,” she remembered the plot. Song Zhizhi had already stolen many gifts, and her earlier offer to help was because the original Siyin had mentioned that Li Jue had a “surprise” for her.
Siyin took out her phone, opened the pinned chat, filmed the boxes on the floor for a moment, and typed: “So tired, don’t want to unpack~”
As she sent it, she accidentally hit the volume key. Her phone began buzzing incessantly with notifications. She opened the streaming app. Under the group account, she was being tagged relentlessly. Anti-fans were commenting: “Siyin is such a green tea bitch, Zhizhi barely touched her and she started crying. Cry, cry, cry, that’s all she knows…”
Her true fans were fighting back: “Protect Yinyin! Yinyin didn’t do anything, we aren’t taking the blame for this…” Siyin randomly replied to a few private messages, thanking them for the support. To those who had left her supportive comments, she added: “Can you send me your address privately?”
This was a “secret code” between the original Siyin and her fans. Since she started making money, she had been giving back—starting with handmade gifts and progressing to designer skincare and phones. This was why her true fans remained so loyal despite the smear campaigns. Many of those boxes on the floor were actually return gifts from fans.
Siyin got sucked into scrolling through the app. She saw a specific video and paused. Then, she stood before the mirror, lifted her camisole slightly to reveal the ruffled skirt beneath, emphasizing her tiny waist and long legs. She pinched her waist until the skin turned red.
Lying back on the bed, she looked at the photo of her “pitiful” self. She opened the top chat window. She sent a screenshot of the hate comments first, then the photo of herself looking mistreated. She didn’t type this time. Swallowing hard, she sent a voice note:
“I really don’t want to cry, but I can’t help it~”
After sending it, she listened to it herself. Her voice was delicate, soft, and incredibly evocative.
When Li Jue saw Siyin’s message about being tired, his first instinct was to help. He typed and deleted several times: “Should I come help?” (Deleted). “I’ll deliver them personally next time.” (Deleted). He thought it was too soon to meet; he had to take it slow.
He finally sent: “You’ve worked hard. Let your friend help, and I’ll treat you all to dinner.”
[Transfer: 50,000 RMB]
The transfer and Siyin’s photo arrived almost simultaneously. Li Jue’s heart fluttered with sweetness—until he opened the photo. Siyin’s aggrieved expression made his blood boil. The atmosphere in the boardroom turned icy.
Then, the voice note arrived. Siyin had never sent him a voice note before. He clicked it.
“I really don’t want to cry, but I can’t help it~”
His heart skipped a beat. The next second, the meeting room fell into a dead silence.
“Ahem. You all continue.”
Li Jue’s exit was a bit frantic, his ears noticeably red.
The meeting room erupted in whispers: “That’s definitely the Boss’s lady.” “The Boss has been single so long, not even a female mosquito gets near him.” “His face was so red… I bet he’s still a virgin.”
Back in his office, Li Jue stared at the photo, his eyes filled with nothing but pure, protective tenderness.