The comments were already urging the streamer to return to the livestream. Luo Yu took a deep breath, blinking deliberately to hide his astonishment.

“I’m back, I’m back! I understand everything now; so everyone’s here in the stream to reminisce about the past.”

“Welcome, brothers, sisters, uncles, and aunts! Feel free to visit often. Next time, no need to send snacks; I’ll have sunflower seeds and peanuts ready for you.”

“Can you suggest topics for the next stream? Of course, you can!”

Luo Yu, fresh out of ideas, eagerly scanned the sea of comments, picking a few to read aloud:

“Someone wants to see me sleeping on a train bunk. That sounds a bit challenging—I’d probably have to rent a train and fix it up first. I’ll add it to the list and perform it once I get a train.”

“Someone else wants a school dorm night chat before bed? To all the brothers and sisters who miss dorm life, this scene might need a few extra actors. I’ll try to find others who’d want to join in.”

“You want to join? Then send me a message with your contact info.”

Although he said that, Luo Yu didn’t actually plan on inviting people to co-host. Too risky.

“Sleeping under an overpass… What’s with that idea?”

He laughed aloud.

“Alright, alright! Feel free to share what you’d like to see. I’ll do my best to make each one happen. There’s plenty of time, and I’m very fan-friendly—just ask, and I’ll deliver.”

He then started reading through the gift thank-yous.

Midway through, Luo Yu ran into some unfamiliar foreign names. The viewers informed him that these were names from Regions B, C, and other international areas.

He’d only slept for a night, and he was already famous overseas?!

It took nearly ten minutes to finish reading all the gift senders’ names. By the end, he was almost delirious and parched, but as he remembered each name represented money, his voice turned sweet again.

Once the stream ended, the first thing he did was open the earnings dashboard—

He’d received gifts worth one million in just one night!

After the fifty-fifty split, he’d pocket fifty thousand.

Among the top ten contributors, “S” had disappeared, replaced by several older uncles and aunts who had each thrown thousands at him.

Luo Yu lay on his bed, closing his eyes.

It was over.

He was on the brink of becoming wealthy.

Who would’ve thought that Luo Yu would have such a surreal, dreamlike day?

Using all his strength to suppress his grin, he barely managed not to laugh too loudly, afraid he’d wake himself up from this dream.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed.

Luo Yu sat up and saw it was Wen Li, his senior and landlord.

“Xiao Luo,” Wen Li’s usually composed voice carried a strong hint of confusion. “Where are you right now?”

“At home!” Luo Yu responded immediately.

Wen Li was silent for a moment. “But it looks like it’s snowing in your stream.”

Luo Yu: …

Luo Yu quickly messaged his personal space manager, rushing to put away the snowy night sleep setup.

In an instant, the bedroom returned to its original state: the candlesticks, fireplace, and gray fuzzy blanket on the bed vanished, replaced by his black lace bed set once again!

“Xiao Luo?”

“Brother, it’s just a live stream effect,” Luo Yu quickly explained while putting things away. “You might not know, but the platform has a snow effect. The fireplace and candlesticks are just virtual decorations; they’re all stream embellishments.”

The Xingyao platform does have decor features, but they’re not nearly that realistic.

He touched his nose nervously and added, “If you don’t believe me, you can come see. Everything at home is just as it was. Don’t worry; I won’t mess around in your place. It’ll look exactly the same when I move out as it did when I moved in.”

Luo Yu’s voice took on a tone of aggrieved innocence, making Wen Li pause, his tone softening again.

“No need, as long as you’re home. I just wanted to check if you’ll be coming to the lab on time today. Professor Tao has something to discuss with you.”

Luo Yu’s eyelid twitched. “What does the professor want to discuss?”

“You’re not aware that your stream has sparked intense discussion worldwide?” Wen Li’s voice was laced with intrigue. “Many influencers and journalists want to interview you. The research lab’s phone number, which you left on the platform, has been ringing non-stop. But the professor wants to hear your thoughts first.”

Luo Yu, who had never experienced this sort of thing, felt a thrill. “They want to interview me?”

“Yes, Xiao Luo, you’re on the verge of worldwide fame.” Wen Li’s gentle voice seemed almost persuasive. “Seize this chance to change your life.”

With rapid breaths, Luo Yu agreed, then hung up and leapt out of bed to change, preparing to head to school early.

“Knock, knock—”

There was a sudden knock at the door.

Luo Yu paused, slipped on his slippers, and looked through the peephole.

It was his neighbor, Wen Shu, from across the hall. She had her hair up in a high ponytail and was wearing a gray dress.

Luo Yu opened the door and smiled. “Sister, is there something you need?”

Wen Shu gave him a quick glance, lowering her voice. “Let me in. I have something to say, and I’ll keep it to a minute.”

Something to tell him?

Luo Yu tensed slightly, looking at the woman in front of him, and pursed his lips.

His biggest fear was that someone would find out he was sleeping naturally without using the anti-sleep medication and report him to the authorities.

But as long as no one caught him in the act, he could always deny it.

With that in mind, he stepped back and let Wen Shu in.

The door locked with a metallic “click,” and Wen Shu looked up at him.

“Long story short, you’re in danger.”

“Danger?” Luo Yu, startled, bumped his leg against the entryway shoe cabinet. As he bent down to rub his leg, he looked up in confusion. “What danger?”

“I just watched your stream. The footage of you sleeping is skyrocketing in popularity across various regions.”

“For now, people are only reminiscing about sleep. But if it takes a turn and they start protesting the existence of anti-sleep meds and actually stop taking them, you’ll be in big trouble.”

Wen Shu’s words were swift, her gaze sharp. “If it gets to that point, having your stream shut down will be the least of your worries. I’m afraid IUHP will come after you personally, questioning your motives, and your life might not even be safe.”

When she didn’t mention anything specific about real sleep, Luo Yu relaxed. But as he listened further, his heart started racing.

By the end, he was covered in a cold sweat.

“The situation isn’t that bad yet; there’s still time to change things,” Wen Shu sighed. “In future streams, don’t make sleep sound so mystical. Aligning yourself against the authorities will do you no good.”

She paused and added, “And… don’t sleep quite so soundly.”

She placed a special emphasis on “sleep,” which made Luo Yu’s eyelid twitch.

Seeing his reaction, Wen Shu took a card from her pocket and pressed it into his hand.

“If you ever find yourself in serious trouble, you can reach out to us at any time.”

“We can provide you with a safe, undisrupted environment for sleep.”

The card’s corner pressed into Luo Yu’s palm, and he nearly dropped it.

Could Wen Shu already know he was truly sleeping?

“Who are you?”

Wen Shu gave him a meaningful look and said quietly, “When the time comes, you’ll understand.”

With that, she turned and left.

Luo Yu stared at the card in his hand for a long moment before looking down.

The center of the card held a phone number, and in the top right corner was a lightning-like logo with the letters “SSZ.”

Luo Yu tucked the card into a concealed pocket in his backpack, zipped it up, and quickly left the house.

If something really happened, shouldn’t the people protecting him be Professor Tao and his research team, not some mysterious organization?

He reassured himself that he was just an ordinary history student participating in a summer research project—he’d done nothing wrong.

Unless the IUHP had lost their minds!

Soon, he reached the university gates.

To enter, A University required a student ID swipe. From a distance, he saw a crowd gathered, arguing with the security guards, all holding up their phones.

Recalling Wen Li’s words, Luo Yu quickly took a mask from his bag, put it on, lifted his backpack over his head, and ran through the crowd to swipe his ID at the gate.

As expected, the people outside were asking the guards, “Is Luo Yu here at school?” and “Can you let us into the history department to take a picture?”

Luo Yu didn’t look back and only stopped running when he reached the academic building. After catching his breath and taking off his mask, he barely climbed two flights of stairs before he felt eyes on him again.

He turned around to see a few students bashfully covering their faces as they hurried away, leaving behind a single girl with a bright red face, holding a softcover notebook as she approached him.

“Could you give me an autograph, please?”

Luo Yu: …

It seemed he was really famous now.

When he finally entered the research lab, he saw Professor Tao already seated at the long table with a pot of green tea brewing in front of him, filling the room with a fragrant aroma.

From the professor’s phone, the familiar sound of a crackling fireplace played softly.

Luo Yu leaned in for a closer look.

It was his sleep stream from last night!

Seeing himself peacefully sleeping on someone else’s phone felt bizarre, and Luo Yu blushed instantly.

“There you are. I heard there were a lot of people looking for you outside. I was worried you might get blocked from getting in,” Professor Tao said with a smile, lifting the teapot to pour Luo Yu a bowl of tea. He gestured at the screen and continued, “I saw that your stream clip has reached millions of views, and your followers have already surpassed a million. Reporters are flooding the lab’s phone. How does it feel to become famous overnight?”

Luo Yu sat down at the table, thanked the professor, and took a cautious sip of tea before lowering his voice.

“Professor, I don’t think I want to do any interviews. I’m starting to feel like this is dangerous.”

When he looked up again, his eyes were filled with fear.

“With my sudden popularity, do you think IUHP might target me?”

Professor Tao paused, his frown easing as he replied, “Since you’re already aware of the potential risks, I won’t go into too much detail. While there’s indeed some risk, it’s still within controllable limits for now.”

“We in academia are just studying and disseminating history. We’re not stirring up the public or distorting facts. Even the highest authorities in our own A District haven’t voiced any objections, so the international union can’t interfere.”

Then he added, “Actually, if you suddenly stopped streaming now, it might look suspicious and could lead to unwanted speculation.”

“For the next few days, go on with your streams as usual but tone it down a bit. You could even mention some of the downsides of sleep.”

“Once this buzz dies down, you can return to how things were before.”

“And,” Professor Tao sighed in mild exasperation, “dial back on the performance. Don’t sleep so peacefully all the time—it’s making people genuinely want to sleep.”

Luo Yu: …

Was he really sleeping that well?