Su Yiran’s livestream went pretty well today.

Apple Live’s first major promotion for newly signed streamers was deployed across both the website and app simultaneously, and the traffic boost was undeniably powerful. Just moments after he went live, tens of thousands of viewers flooded into his stream.

Some were interested in the dessert mentioned in his title, some were curious about a new streamer, and some were just random passersby who clicked in by chance.

A few left after a single glance, but others were drawn in by Su Yiran’s stream and decided to stay.

As his livestream progressed smoothly, more and more viewers stuck around. By the time he finished making the first dessert—Strawberry Milk Jelly—the stream had stabilized at around 250,000 viewers.

For a newcomer, this was an exceptional result. Typically, new streamers who landed this kind of recommendation slot would see viewer counts between 90,000 and 150,000. Reaching 200,000 was already quite rare.

Su Yiran was thrilled. He continued streaming, and while he was making the second dessert—Mango Coconut Mille-Feuille—suddenly, a massive influx of new viewers flooded into the stream. In under ten minutes, the viewership skyrocketed and nearly doubled, soaring to almost 500,000.

The bullet comments exploded. Su Yiran soon discovered that his stream had just been recommended and reposted by several popular accounts.

There were truly a lot of kind people in the world.

The newcomers were all excited as they joined the stream. In no time, a wall of overwhelming and borderline NSFW bullet comments began flooding in, covering the entire screen. His streaming backend even lagged for a moment.

Su Yiran let them go wild for about ten minutes. But with so many messages, he couldn’t make out some of the viewers’ genuine questions. So he went into the backend and set up some filter words.

Apple Live allowed streamers to set up blocked words in the backend to prevent malicious spam. There were two filtering options: one would block the bullet comments from appearing both to the streamer and the viewers; the other would only block them on the streamer’s end, while viewers could still see them.

Su Yiran chose the latter.

He filtered out meaningless interjections like “ahhh” and “uwu,” as well as other keywords that made him flush with embarrassment. Typing them in one by one made him cringe, but he did it anyway.

Once he finished, the bullet comment section on his end instantly became much clearer. There were still a ton of comments, but most were discussions, questions, and praise for his desserts. Some were curious about the new streamer, and a few slipped past the filters…

The stream continued smoothly. His popularity snowballed, growing bigger and faster. Human nature loves to follow a crowd—when people saw this unfamiliar streamer suddenly blowing up, curiosity drew them in, making the snowball roll even faster.

Over an hour in, his stream made it onto the top carousel of the Lifestyle homepage—a spot determined entirely by real-time viewership.

After streaming for over two hours, the livestream concluded successfully. At its peak, viewership had hit 1.2 million, and nearly 800,000 users had followed his channel.

Su Yiran ended the stream contentedly. It felt like a big success.

Of course, this was only his first official stream. Everything was just beginning.

Many of the viewers today had tuned in due to curiosity and the snowball effect. In the future, he wouldn’t have the same kind of platform-backed promotion. Every recommendation he received going forward would depend on his own performance.

If he couldn’t retain the popularity he’d gained, most of those 800,000 followers would become inactive, and he wouldn’t be able to convert them into regular viewers.

Su Yiran was already thinking about his next steps. He had some new ideas and was ready to go home and discuss them with Ting-ge.

He sent a WeChat message to Gu Yuanting:
“Ting-ge, are you home yet? I just finished the stream!”

Unable to contain his excitement, he sent another:
“The stream went great. I’m so happy! [spinning emoji]”

There was no reply.

He guessed Ting-ge hadn’t seen the messages yet, so he closed the shop and headed home.

When he stepped outside, he realized it had started raining at some point. A steady autumn drizzle was falling, growing heavier by the minute.

With every autumn rain came a chill—time to dress warmer.

—

When Su Yiran got home, he was surprised to find that Gu Yuanting hadn’t returned yet.

It was nearly 10 p.m. by now. Normally, any overtime should’ve ended by then.

His messages were unread, and when Su Yiran called, no one picked up. He waited a while and tried again—still no answer.

What was going on? Was he busy?

Su Yiran grew anxious. If he had known Ting-ge was still working, he would’ve gone to pick him up.

He paced the living room twice, then opened the sliding door to the balcony. Outside, the drizzle had turned into a moderate rain, falling steadily in the dark.

But Gu Yuanting’s company provided umbrellas, and he had a company car and driver. Su Yiran wasn’t worried about him getting wet.

Still, the unanswered calls made him uneasy. What if something had happened?

He waited a bit longer, then called again. Still no answer.

Finally, he grabbed his keys and decided to head to the company to find him.

He was changing his shoes at the entrance when the door suddenly beeped and opened.

Gu Yuanting was standing outside.

Su Yiran’s eyes lit up with joy:
“You’re back! I was just about to come get you. You didn’t get caught in the rain, right?”

Seeing that his hair and clothes weren’t wet, Su Yiran sighed in relief. But he pouted a little:
“Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

Gu Yuanting stared at him silently.

Su Yiran slipped his shoes back on, pulled out Gu Yuanting’s slippers, and waved him inside:
“Come in and change your shoes.”

Gu Yuanting changed into the slippers without a word and walked into the house.

Su Yiran closed the door and followed him with a hint of grievance:
“You didn’t reply to my messages either.”

But then he saw Gu Yuanting sitting on the couch—and caught a glimpse of his right hand.

His expression changed instantly:
“What happened to your hand?!”

There was blood on the web between Gu Yuanting’s thumb and index finger.

Su Yiran forgot all about the missed calls. He rushed over, cradling Gu Yuanting’s hand. His eyes widened in panic as he saw several small cuts on his palm, knuckles, and the back of his hand. Some were clotted, others still oozing fresh blood.

Su Yiran’s eyes turned red with distress. His voice trembled:
“What happened?!”
He jumped up to get the first aid kit.
“I’ll get the medicine.”

Just as he turned to go, Gu Yuanting grabbed his wrist and pulled him back forcefully. The motion made some of the small cuts reopen.

Su Yiran grew even more anxious:
“Ting-ge, I need to get the medicine—please wait a second, okay?”

But Gu Yuanting didn’t let go. In fact, he gripped even tighter, his dark eyes locked onto Su Yiran’s:
“You can’t livestream anymore.”

Su Yiran was still focused on his injuries. Seeing blood drip from Gu Yuanting’s hand made his head spin from worry. He was on the verge of tears:
“Ting-ge, I have to treat your wounds first.”

Hearing the tremble in his voice, Gu Yuanting finally released him.

Su Yiran hurried to the study, grabbed the first aid kit, took a deep breath, and returned to the couch. Sitting beside Gu Yuanting, he took out cotton swabs and iodine.

Calming himself down, he gently took Gu Yuanting’s hand and started cleaning the wounds.

Some cuts had tiny glass shards in them.
“Did you cut yourself on broken glass? What happened?”

Gu Yuanting replied quietly:
“I broke a glass by accident.”

Su Yiran focused on cleaning up the blood and picking out the shards. He didn’t say anything for now.

Thankfully, the wounds looked scarier than they were. They were small and didn’t need a hospital trip. With proper care, they’d heal quickly.

He began disinfecting them gently with iodine.
“Does it hurt?”

“No.”

Su Yiran knew it must hurt, but he kept his movements as gentle as possible.
“How did you not treat this right away? You need to take better care of yourself—”
He paused, unwilling to scold him further, and continued applying ointment.

Gu Yuanting’s gaze never left Su Yiran’s face.

He was leaning in close, his long lashes casting shadows on his pale, focused face. The concern etched into his delicate features felt incredibly soft and warm.

Gu Yuanting didn’t know exactly what he felt for Su Yiran. He admitted he was moved, but he didn’t know whether it was the lingering consciousness of the body’s original owner affecting him—or whether he truly was falling for him.

But maybe it didn’t matter anymore.

The moment he agreed not to separate, not to leave, to accept Su Yiran, to accept this “family,” and to let Su Yiran into his world—

Su Yiran became his.

Completely.

No one else could take him.
No one could covet him.

He spoke again, returning to what he said earlier:
“You can’t do livestreams anymore.”

“Huh?”
Su Yiran was caught off guard. He looked up in confusion.
“Why?”

Gu Yuanting said:
“If you become a streamer, you’ll face public scrutiny. There could be cyberbullying.”

He listed all the downsides of livestreaming.

Su Yiran raised an eyebrow.
“Didn’t you tell me all this a few years ago when you didn’t want me to livestream?”

Gu Yuanting fell silent.

Then he dropped all pretense.
“I won’t allow it anymore.”

“…But,” Su Yiran said,
“You said the other day that you’d support me. That you’d always support me.”
He emphasized the word always.

Another pause.
Then Gu Yuanting said quietly:
“I watched your stream today.”

Just thinking about those vulgar, lustful comments made his chest burn.

Su Yiran quickly realized what was bothering him.

“Those viewers were just joking. That’s how online banter is—don’t take it seriously.”

“Besides, the stream went so well. I think the future—”

“So you’re okay with them lusting after you?” Gu Yuanting snapped, cutting him off.

Su Yiran laughed in disbelief:
“Come on, they’re just playful…”

But before he could finish, Gu Yuanting suddenly pulled him into his arms.

The bandage Su Yiran had just wrapped unraveled completely.

He stared, confused:
“Hey, the bandage—”

Gu Yuanting’s reddened eyes locked on him.
“Do you even know what they want to do to you?”

“What—?”
Su Yiran couldn’t even react.

In Gu Yuanting’s mind, bullet comments flashed—

[I want to rip off hubby’s sweater. He’s definitely got a collarbone under there!!!]

Jealousy exploded in his head.

Suddenly, Gu Yuanting pressed Su Yiran down on the couch, and with one upward motion, yanked off his cream-colored sweater. Before Su Yiran could react, both the sweater and his undershirt were gone.

His fair, flawless skin was now exposed, his collarbones exquisitely shaped.

“Hey!”
Su Yiran was still worried about the wounds. The bandage had completely unraveled, and he was afraid all the ointment had been wiped off.
He tried to push Gu Yuanting away:
“Your hand—the medicine—”

But that small push was like snapping the last thread in Gu Yuanting’s mind.

His eyes blazed. His fingertips touched the soft warmth of Su Yiran’s skin, and desire mixed with rage roared through him like fire.

[Got the image in my head now. I’m going to lick hubby’s collarbone nonstop, sob sob sob]

Gu Yuanting grabbed both of Su Yiran’s wrists and pinned them above his head. His strong body pinned Su Yiran’s wriggling one beneath him.

Lowering his head, he began kissing and biting Su Yiran’s beautiful collarbones with frantic, feverish hunger—
as if he’d lost his mind.