“I didn’t mean to pick a fight.” Li Yuening’s expression stiffened. “I was just surprised. Before this, Xie Lan never mentioned he was at this level.”

Dou Sheng let out a laugh that bordered on a sneer. “What ‘level’ does one need to stand at a podium and announce? I thought everyone was clear on the preliminary scores. Guo Ruize and the others tell everyone every day that Xie Lan is an expert among experts, and that his performance was probably because he was drugged or something. It’s a joke, sure, but after hearing it every day, you never thought to ask him yourself? What, are you so unwilling to let go of the tiny illusion the world gave you?”

Across the room, midway through a drinking game, Geng Rui pounded the table. “Yuening, you joining? I can’t take this whole lot on by myself!”

“Not playing.” Li Yuening stared intently at Dou Sheng, his fist clenched against the table as he stood up. “I’m going to the restroom.”

Che Ziming, oblivious to the sparks flying, looked back with a grin. “Restroom’s over there!”

The private room had its own bathroom, large enough for two. Xie Lan watched him go in, hesitated for a moment, then stood up. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Dou Sheng gave a soft scoff. “If he wants to be stuck in his head, what’s there to talk about?”

Xie Lan gave Dou Sheng’s shoulder a firm squeeze. Dou Sheng paused, then pursed his lips. “Fine. Call me if something happens.”

Inside the restroom, both stalls were empty. Li Yuening was standing in front of the mirror, dazed. As soon as Xie Lan entered, Li Yuening immediately looked down and turned on the tap.

Xie Lan walked to his side and sighed. “If you were me, would you have proactively told everyone?”

“I wouldn’t have volunteered it, but you had chances to let us know the truth.” Li Yuening rinsed the soap from his hands, then suddenly looked up. “Are you afraid people will say the teacher is giving you special treatment?”

Xie Lan’s heart tightened. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry.” Li Yuening gave a mocking smile. “I’m not the type of person to do something as classless as filing a complaint. That kind of care is normal. I just think we should all be a bit more honest.”

He dried his hands and turned to leave. Xie Lan followed. “Yuening.”

Li Yuening looked back. “Anything else?”

Xie Lan looked at him for a moment, explaining patiently, “My situation is a first for any of the students here. My teacher’s training method seems absurd to most people—it literally made me drop to the bottom. My scores were a far cry from the preliminaries. Geng Rui asked, and Wu Qing from your class asked, but they just didn’t take it seriously.”

Li Yuening smiled faintly. “So you’re saying I was just being wishful?”

Xie Lan sighed. “Only you know the answer to that. We all have goals; we all care about how others are doing. I understand you, but there really is no right or wrong here.”

Li Yuening stared at him for a long time before letting out a heavy sigh and rubbing his face hard.

“Whatever.” He paused, hand on the doorknob. “My skills aren’t up to par; there’s nothing to say. I was out of line just now. Forget what I said.”

Once he was gone, Xie Lan turned on the tap and splashed cold water on his flushed cheeks.

Old Ma helping him wasn’t wrong, Dai You protecting Old Ma wasn’t wrong, and he certainly hadn’t intended any malice. When a few people had asked privately, he’d explained vaguely that he was adjusting his rhythm and that his scores weren’t usually like this.

The lights in front of the mirror were too bright, making Xie Lan feel a bit dizzy as the gin from those two Gin and Tonics began to kick in. He leaned against the sink to steady himself when the door pushed open again. Dou Sheng walked in. “Didn’t work?”

“I don’t know if it worked or not.” Xie Lan pressed his fingers to his temples. “This alcohol is strong.”

Dou Sheng scoffed. “I told you not to drink so fast. Your tolerance is low, yet you’re always trying high-proof stuff.” He walked over and squeezed Xie Lan’s shoulder, his voice dropping. “Your face is so red.”

Xie Lan looked up. In the mirror, the boy’s cheeks were flushed crimson, his dark eyes slightly unfocused. Droplets of water clung to his hair. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind.

Dou Sheng’s fingers rested on his shoulder, lightly tapping against his collarbone. “I just listened to the Jian Qi song with my headphones.” His lips curled into a smile. “Was it written for Jian Qi, or for me?”

Xie Lan glanced at him. “Is this fun? Competing with an anime protagonist?”

Dou Sheng had also had a bit much to drink. His dark eyes were lowered, and he leaned into Xie Lan’s shoulder in his usual lazy way. “Of course it is.” The boy’s voice, tinged with a slight buzz, sounded more magnetic. “You, writing a song for me… just thinking about it, I can’t handle it.”

“Hmm?” Xie Lan was slightly taken aback, his gaze lingering on Dou Sheng’s profile. “Which ‘can’t handle’ are we talking about?”

Dou Sheng buried his head and laughed for a long time. “What are you thinking?”

Xie Lan glanced at him. “You tell me.”

“The senior is getting worse by the day, not only failing to be a good influence but constantly trying to lead others astray.” Dou Sheng let out a dramatic sigh, then straightened up and adjusted his formal shirt collar in the mirror. “My thoughts are pure and beautiful. You have no idea what it means to my youthful soul to have Silent Waves write a song for me.”

“?”

As Dou Sheng rinsed his wrists with cold water, he began to whistle the melody of Sword Qi as Promised. The whistling was soft, but the simple notes felt like a kitten’s claws scratching at Xie Lan’s heart.

Xie Lan tugged at the sleeve of Dou Sheng’s elbow. “I want to ask, too. Silent Waves writing a song for you, or me writing a song for you—which is more important?”

Dou Sheng stopped whistling. “Huh?”

Xie Lan’s expression was stubborn. “Give me an answer. Which do you value more?”

The restroom fell into a brief silence, save for the dripping of the faucet. Dou Sheng looked at him for a while, then suddenly couldn’t help but laugh. “What are you thinking? I told you this a long time ago. Forgot? On the roof of the administration building—those were such heartfelt words. If you’ve forgotten, your boyfriend is going to be heartbroken.”

Xie Lan paused. He remembered, of course. Back when he still foolishly thought Dou Sheng had a crush on some violin-playing celebrity, he had played Butterfly on the roof, hiding his own bitterness. That day, Dou Sheng had sat behind the railing, legs swinging as he said to the evening breeze, “No one plays better than you do right now.”

Xie Lan’s thoughts drifted for a moment. When he came to, Dou Sheng’s eyes were right in front of his. They shared the same faint scent of alcohol. Dou Sheng cradled the back of his head and kissed him.

Between kisses, Dou Sheng rested his forehead against Xie Lan’s, whispering, “It’s just you. The one I once longed for and the lover right in front of me—it’s just you. How much more important do you want me to see you as?”

Tsk. Xie Lan heard a soft sigh in his heart—one of deep satisfaction. He pulled at Dou Sheng’s shirt, and Dou Sheng pressed in, pushing him back until he was sitting on the sink, back against the smooth mirror. The overhead light bathed Dou Sheng’s features in a brilliant glow.

Dou Sheng tilted Xie Lan’s chin to the side, letting him catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror—cheeks flushed, dark eyes swimming with a raw, youthful pulse that was hard to hide.

“Don’t close your eyes.” Dou Sheng murmured against his lips. “You’ve watched ‘cat videos’; are you afraid of looking in a mirror?”

Xie Lan’s breathing was shallow and quick. His hands wandered around Dou Sheng’s waist. Dou Sheng paused the kiss, looking at him with uncertainty.

“Teach me?” Xie Lan instinctively glanced at the locked door. His throat moved. He gripped Dou Sheng’s clothes and whispered, “I’ve never… worked part-time before.”

…

Outside, dozens of rounds of drinking games had passed. Geng Rui had suffered a crushing defeat and was now completely passed out. Li Yuening had returned to his seat only to say he was heading back to study; the room was a mess, and no one paid attention to when he left. Che Ziming and Yu Fei were slumped over the table, half-dead. Dai You and Wang Gou were eating ice cream to sober up. The room was quiet for a moment.

Suddenly, Yu Fei sat up and frowned at the restroom. “Damn, did Dou-zi and Xie Lan get collective constipation? I’m about to burst. I’m going to check.”

He stood up and bumped into Che Ziming’s chair. This jolted Che Ziming awake. As his brain processed what Yu Fei had said, he felt a buzz in his head. He glanced at the closed restroom door, his buzz mostly gone.

“Fei-yu!” Che Ziming screamed.

Yu Fei tripped and turned back to curse. “What are you yelling for, you jumpy bastard?”

Wang Gou and Dai You looked over. There was a flicker of hope in their eyes, as if they’d caught a lifeline, but Che Ziming didn’t have time to savor it. His heart pounded like a drum as he mechanically shouted, “Fei-yu… the table…”

His alcohol-numbed brain spun rapidly but couldn’t come up with a single good idea. In his desperation, his eyes landed on Geng Rui.

“Quick, look at Geng Rui!” He pinched his thigh so hard he teared up. “Look at Geng Rui! Is he dead?”

“Huh?” Yu Fei shuddered and looked at Geng Rui. Geng Rui was face-down on the table, motionless.

The room fell silent. Four people stared at the back of one head; no one dared to move. Dai You looked at Wang Gou, who looked back in despair.

“Hic.” Geng Rui let out a troubled burp in his sleep, didn’t wake up, and kept sleeping.

“…”

Yu Fei’s face crumpled like a rag. He pushed Che Ziming away and muttered, “You lose your damn mind every time you drink. Get lost.”

Che Ziming was out of options. Alcohol really did lower one’s IQ; his head was a mess. The three of them watched nervously as Yu Fei approached the restroom.

Closer… closer…

With only a few steps left, Che Ziming was ready to flee. Wang Gou saw his chance while Yu Fei and Che Ziming’s backs were turned and yanked Dai You’s arm under the table.

“Cooperate,” Wang Gou hissed. He took a deep breath, grabbed the large slotted spoon for the fruit salad, scooped up a massive chunk of ice cream, and shoved it into his mouth.

The room was silent for a second. Wang Gou’s neck strained as he forced a swallow, and then, true to form, he spat it out.

“Cough! Cough cough cough! Cough—yue—cough!” He doubled over in his chair, pounding the table with his right hand while rubbing his chest with his left, gagging until he teared up.

Dai You felt a wave of relief but kept a tense expression. “Gou-zi, you okay? How did you choke so bad!”

“Holy crap!” Che Ziming was nearly weeping with joy. He grabbed Yu Fei and dragged him toward Wang Gou. “What happened? How do you choke on ice cream?”

Wang Gou’s face was a mask of agony. “Cough cough! Ugh—! Cough!!” He pointed at the slotted spoon, which still held a single, un-eaten blueberry.

Dai You froze for two seconds, then realized. “A blueberry got stuck?”

Wang Gou’s face had turned a deep shade of crimson as he nodded frantically.

“It’s over, it’s over.” Che Ziming was stone-cold sober now. His joy vanished as he pulled out his phone with trembling hands. “I’ll… I’ll call 120! Hang in there, Gou!” His hands shook so much the phone fell on the table, and when he picked it up to unlock it, he dropped it on the floor.

Dai You was genuinely panicked now. “Che Ziming, call 120. I’ll call a cab, let’s see which is faster!”

“Water…” Wang Gou coughed so hard he was almost on his knees, reaching for the table.

Dai You quickly said, “Don’t drink water, hold it, hold…”

Before he could finish, Wang Gou started coughing violently again.

“You’re all useless.” Yu Fei, irritable as ever, shoved Che Ziming and Dai You aside. “Get out of the way. Gou-zi, stand up!”

Wang Gou felt like he was dying. Tears and snot were everywhere as he trembled and used the table to stand up. Yu Fei stepped behind him and ordered, “Stop coughing and lift your arms a bit.”

Wang Gou had no idea what he was doing but instinctively followed the command. As soon as he lifted his arms, he felt Yu Fei press against his back. Two arms slid under his armpits. Looking down, he saw Yu Fei’s hands clasped in a “fist and palm” grip around his stomach.

Then, Yu Fei calmly raised a knee against Wang Gou’s backside, tightened his grip, and gave a sudden, sharp pull.

“Ugh—!” The shock dazed Wang Gou.

Another pull! “Ugh—!”

Yu Fei was lean but incredibly strong. He pulled back again and again like a wound-up spring, arms squeezing the stomach, knee bracing the back. Wang Gou felt like a broken kite about to snap. Finally, after several tries, a wave of nausea hit him. He opened his mouth, and a blueberry flew out.

The restroom door opened just then. Dou Sheng and Xie Lan emerged one after the other. The ill-fated blueberry rolled to a stop at Dou Sheng’s feet.

“Hmm?” Dou Sheng looked calm. He stared at the bizarre scene in the room and blinked. “What kind of stupid game are you guys playing?”

Dai You: “…”

Che Ziming: “…”

The beet-red color on Wang Gou’s face finally began to fade. He slumped into his chair and coughed for a while longer before gradually calming down and taking a sip of water.

“It’s called the Heimlich maneuver. You’re all seventeen or eighteen—trying to use water to stop someone from choking? Use some common sense.” Yu Fei let go of his stomach, shook his wrists, and said crossly, “God, I’m annoyed. I need to use the bathroom! Everyone’s so much trouble.”

Dou Sheng gave an “oh” and stepped aside to let him through. Behind Dou Sheng, Xie Lan had pulled his collar up a bit higher to hide the mark his boyfriend had accidentally left in the height of their excitement. He didn’t dare walk straight toward the group, so he watched Wang Gou from a distance to make sure he was still alive.

“Eat your ice cream slowly, Gou-zi,” Xie Lan couldn’t help but sigh. “No matter how good it is, eat it slowly. Save your life so you can eat it again next time.”

Wang Gou paused and turned to look at him. For some reason, Xie Lan felt like there was a long story behind that gaze. Sadness, sorrow, and a certain moving persistence.

“Hard work,” Xie Lan said, almost instinctively and somewhat confusingly.

Wang Gou let out a sudden sob. “Kind people have good luck! I am a kind person!”

“You are a kind Gou-zi,” Dai You sighed, his gaze flickering over the red mark peeking from Xie Lan’s collar. He looked at Che Ziming with some concern.

Fortunately, Che Ziming wasn’t looking at Xie Lan at all.

Sword Qi as Promised became a hit so fast it caught Xie Lan off guard. Initially, he just wanted to practice his skills, but it suddenly blew up on Bilibili. Once the audio was released, other creators began using the melody as background music, and countless fan creations started popping up, driving both the song and the niche anime up the charts.

The heat was unbearable, and the provincial training had entered the final sprint before the closing exam. Xie Lan shifted into a 7 AM to 12 AM mode. Old Ma had gathered question banks from all the top middle schools in the province for him. He sat in the classroom every day, diving into problem sets, with no time for Weibo or Bilibili.

Several times, Dou Sheng had looked at him with his phone, seemingly wanting to say something, but held back. Xie Lan heard that Li Yuening was even more driven than he was, staying up in bed to look at problems on his phone. One morning, Li Yuening even tripped and fell while getting out of bed.

Amidst this competition—one unintentional, the other deliberate—the end of July arrived, and the closing exam was finally over. The next day would be a rest day, followed by the scores, the review, and the end of the camp.

On the day the exam ended, Geng Rui and the others basically emptied out the barbecue shop outside the English High west gate. There wasn’t enough room inside, so about eighty students borrowed tables and set them up along half the street for an outdoor barbecue.

Having shed the pressure of the exam, Xie Lan went along and had a few bites. Geng Rui led the drinking games, and the group was rowdy, but Xie Lan didn’t drink. He was thinking about the post-exam live stream he had promised his fans.

Dou Sheng gathered a plate of non-spicy skewers for his boyfriend and handed them over with a smile. “How did the exam go?”

Nearby, Li Yuening glanced over. Xie Lan noticed but answered honestly, “Pretty good. I checked it twice, too.”

“So impressive,” Dou Sheng said with a sigh. “I didn’t even have time to check mine.”

Xie Lan turned to Li Yuening. “How did yours go, Yuening?”

Li Yuening froze. “Huh?”

“I asked how your exam went,” Xie Lan repeated. “You’ve been working really hard lately.”

Li Yuening’s expression remained stiff for a while before he finally spoke. “It was okay.”

Xie Lan nodded. “That’s good. We’ll head back first.”

The rowdy voices of the boys faded behind them, dissolving into the humid summer evening. Xie Lan and Dou Sheng walked side-by-side. Xie Lan had accidentally put on Dou Sheng’s clothes today, and Dou Sheng happened to be wearing the same thing; from behind, they looked almost as if they were merging.

Dou Sheng huffed. “Caring about his feelings, are we? Even gave him a greeting.”

Xie Lan gave a soft “ah,” then said slowly, “I felt a bit bad about that whole situation, so I just asked.”

“What’s there to feel bad about? The strong get first pick; it’s the same everywhere.” Dou Sheng huffed again, his tone clearly unhappy. “I’m getting jealous.”

“Jealous?” Xie Lan struggled for a moment to pull the word from his Chinese vocabulary. He was shocked. “Because of Li Yuening?”

Dou Sheng shot him a glance and said nothing.

“Seriously?” Xie Lan shook his head. “Look at this lawless boyfriend behavior.”

“Your language skills are improving,” Dou Sheng sighed sadly. “Polite to everyone else, but snappy with your boyfriend.”

As soon as he finished, Xie Lan nudged him with his elbow. “Stop being so dramatic.”

Dou Sheng couldn’t help but break into a smile. Just as he was about to turn and coax Xie Lan, he saw Xie Lan quickly look back toward the west gate. They had walked quite a distance; the west gate was barely visible. The campus was empty except for the two of them. The setting sun cast long shadows on the path ahead.

Xie Lan lean in and planted a quick kiss on the corner of Dou Sheng’s lips. “Stop it. We’re going home tomorrow.”

The sunset cast a warm glow on his cheeks. Dou Sheng’s voice dropped. “What are we doing at home?”

Xie Lan turned his head, his gaze falling on Dou Sheng’s back. The boy’s posture was always straight—from his neck to his spine to his waist, it was a smooth line with a natural curve, so free and effortless. To the casual observer, it was just the simple frame of a young man, but from a boyfriend’s perspective, it was raw and attractive.

There wasn’t much to do at home; most days were boring. But with a boyfriend around, even boring days felt a little bit happier.

Back at the dorm, Xie Lan wanted to count down the days until the first round of the League, but as he was counting, he suddenly remembered something. He looked up at Dou Sheng. “Is today the season finale of the Shao Shi Jian Xin Ming Yue anime?”

“You still remember? I thought you’d forgotten.” Dou Sheng said casually. “By the way, maybe you should check Weibo.”

“Weibo? Why?” Xie Lan had almost forgotten about the app. He quickly went on Bilibili to post an update, announcing he’d be live-streaming for the Shao Shi finale tonight, then opened Weibo.

As soon as he opened it, it crashed. He tried again, and it crashed again. Xie Lan gave up and borrowed Dou Sheng’s computer. He struggled to remember his password and finally logged in. He began clearing the explosion of messages with the practiced ease of someone used to it.

“Hmm?” Xie Lan frowned. “Who is Prime Minister Lu? The name sounds familiar.”

About two weeks ago, a massive wave of people had sent private messages saying Prime Minister Lu had followed him. A few days after that, another wave said Ju Jiu had followed him.

Ju Jiu.

Seeing those characters made Xie Lan’s heart skip a beat. He remembered them from classical literature—he’d memorized them once—but after a month of being brainwashed by math, he’d mostly forgotten them. How do you pronounce it again…

Just as he was falling back into that old struggle, Dou Sheng explained, “Prime Minister Lu is the head director of Shao Shi. The small team announced a couple of days ago that they’ve been acquired by Tian Ya Shen Wang. Ju Jiu is the lead producer at Tian Ya.”

“Ju Jiu!” Xie Lan felt a wave of relief. “Right, it’s pronounced Ju Jiu. I remember now. ‘The ospreys (Ju Jiu) cry… for the fair lady, the gentleman longs.'”

“You skipped two lines. ‘The ospreys cry, on the islet in the river… for the fair lady, the gentleman longs.'” Dou Sheng waved it off. “It doesn’t matter. Just follow them back; it’s already been several days.”

Xie Lan gave an “mm” and checked both of their profiles. Prime Minister Lu had been active in promoting Shao Shi during its run, sharing Xie Lan’s fan song and other creations many times, tagging him every time. But Xie Lan had missed them all while he was buried in his studies. Fans were joking in the comments, betting on when Xie Lan would finally reply.

Ju Jiu was more aloof. His most recent post was from three months ago—a picture of a baby meal he’d made for his daughter. Before that, you had to go back to last year, where he’d half-heartedly shared a promotional post for one of Tian Ya’s animations. There wasn’t much content, but his bio was impressive; almost all of Tian Ya’s hits over the years were made by his team.

After following them back, Xie Lan took a shower, dried his hair, and sat at the computer to start the stream. The viewer count shot up as soon as he went live. He greeted the chat while adjusting the title and bio.

Today’s title was: [I’m done with exams! Let’s watch the Shao Shi finale together. I’m a bit sad to see it end.]

• Lan-zai, haven’t seen you in half a month, I missed you so much!
• Ugh, zai, you’ve grown taller!

Xie Lan scanned the chat. “I’m sitting down… you can tell I’ve grown taller from this?”

• Restart! Zai, even the grass on my grave has grown taller!
• “…”

Xie Lan looked to the side and said softly, “Don’t post scary things like that. Dou-zi is right here; he’ll be scared to death.”

As soon as he spoke, Dou Sheng’s hand landed on the back of his neck. Out of view of the camera, his fingers slipped into the collar and lightly brushed against his skin. “Say that again?”

• Lan-zai is blushing!
• MUA! Dou, what is your hand doing behind Xie Lan’s neck!
• Dou is so thirsty!
• Dou-dou, put your ‘pod’ away!
• The police are coming!

“Hand? My hand isn’t doing anything.” Dou Sheng calmly raised his hand and expertly ruffled Xie Lan’s hair. “Just a little interaction with my boyfriend.”

Xie Lan immediately said, “It’s still that ‘pretend I have a boyfriend’ event.”

Dou Sheng didn’t respond, pulling over a chair to join the stream. He looked at the chat. “Jealous, aren’t you? All you people without boyfriends, trying to latch onto me every day. Get lost.”

• If you die, it’ll be from being too extra.
• Seriously, this ‘pretend boyfriend’ thing has been going on for a month. Is it not over yet?
• LOL, the submission deadline is almost here.
• LOL, it never ends.

“Stop talking nonsense.” Xie Lan ignored the redness in his ears and clicked on the anime section. “Looks like most people are here. Let’s watch the final episode quietly. This anime was with me through the whole training camp; I’ve grown attached to it… Eh?”

His mouse hovered over the charts. He was stunned.

In the anime section, Domestic Animation chart, Top Spot: Shao Shi Jian Xin Ming Yue. Followers: 4.08 million.

• Surprised, aren’t you!
• In the half-month you were gone, the little show made a comeback!
• LOL, it’s the most poorly-produced show in the top ranks.

“It’s number one.” Xie Lan felt a wave of emotion.

They must have made some money because the cover had been changed—it looked much better than before. On the cover, Jian Qi was riding a sword through the wind, his long sleeves billowing, his eyes full of youthful spirit. That brightness under the intense sky felt even more like the person sitting behind him.

Xie Lan’s eyes softened. “I’ll take a screenshot to remember this.”

Just as he spoke, gift effects suddenly flooded the screen.

Thank you “Ju Jiu” for the TV Spaceship!

Thank you “Ju Jiu” for the TV Spaceship!

Thank you “Ju Jiu” for the TV Spaceship!

…

The system notifications jumped rapidly. Xie Lan was stunned. He scrolled up through the logs and realized it wasn’t a bug. Someone seemed to have Parkinson’s—their fingers were trembling as they sent dozens of the most expensive gifts. He scrolled to the bottom, and the flood was still going.

• ????
• Holy crap, is that Ju Jiu?
• Boss is so powerful!
• The financial backer saw Lan-zai!
• Ahhh! The producer daddy is here to see Lan-zai!

“Tsk, what are they doing?” Dou Sheng pulled his phone from his pocket. “Are they trying to challenge my spot at the top of the chart?”

Xie Lan grabbed his thigh. “Don’t be impulsive.”

The other party had already hit over eighty gifts in a row—a hundred thousand RMB. Dou Sheng’s top spot was gone.

“Don’t be impulsive,” Xie Lan said calmly. “The platform takes a cut.”

Dou Sheng: “…”

• Pffthahaha!
• Dou has a boyfriend to manage the wallet now!
• You’re no longer the little Golden Dou-zi who can throw money around!
• Ugh, you two are so happy.
• This scene actually makes me feel sorry for the boss Ju Jiu.
• Stop it, Ju Jiu has a family.

When the streak reached 99, the other party took a breath. Ju Jiu sent a bullet comment with a prestigious effect: Finally online. On behalf of Prime Minister Lu, I’m here to settle the fee for the ‘wild’ spokesperson of Shao Shi.

• 23333333
• LOL, the backer is just giving money directly!
• Good wine still needs a good seller. With 4 million followers, this little bit of money isn’t enough!
• Do another 999 streak!

Ju Jiu: Student Xie Lan, check your private messages. I want to collaborate.

Ju Jiu: Good pay, respect for creativity, the boss doesn’t talk trash, and there’s very little nonsense.

Xie Lan was a bit dazed. His first thought was that Ju Jiu must have heard some rumors in the industry and knew the truth about his falling out with Ling Xi. But to call them out so directly in a live stream was a bit petty; he didn’t seem like a very serious person.

Fortunately, the audience probably didn’t pick up on the industry-specific shade. Before Xie Lan could even breathe a sigh of relief, he heard a soft chuckle.

Dou Sheng, sitting behind him, leaned forward and slung an arm around his shoulder. He said to the chat, “You might as well just read out a certain director’s ID number while you’re at it.”

Xie Lan: “…”