The video recording didn’t go as smoothly as she had hoped. She died more than ten times in the game before finally completing the recording. After uploading the video to Bilibili, she turned her attention to studying an acting book—An Actor Prepares.

The intense week of memorizing materials not only secured her the lead role in Fenghua but also instilled in her a new habit: reading.

Once a habit is formed, sticking to it becomes much easier. Cheng Youran found herself completely immersed in the pages of her book.

As she read, she marked key points with a highlighter and took notes in the margins. Her pen paused when she came across a sentence: “An excellent actor is not only skilled in performance but also possesses a sincere and profound understanding of life.”

She murmured the line to herself, her voice soft but thoughtful.

Time ticked by. She glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall—it was already 11 p.m. Yawning, she stretched her arms and placed a bookmark on the page she had just finished, the rest could wait for tomorrow.

Her phone was set to silent mode.

Standing up, she picked up her phone and noticed a flood of system notifications from Bilibili. The video she had uploaded had garnered over 10,000 likes and more than a thousand comments.

As a first-time content creator, Cheng Youran was stunned. Only five hours had passed—was Bilibili’s traffic really this massive? At this rate, her dreams of earning millions a month seemed just around the corner.

It didn’t take long for her to realize she was wrong.

Among the flood of comments and likes, countless gift notifications were interspersed—so many that it was almost overwhelming. At a glance, there were at least hundreds of gifts.

“Donghai Yan Junze sent a Small TV.”
“Donghai Yan Junze sent a Small TV.”
…
“Donghai Yan Junze sent a Small TV.”

Cheng Youran stared at the screen, utterly dumbfounded.

The Small TV was Bilibili’s most expensive virtual gift, priced at 1,298 yuan each. And it wasn’t just pricey for the sake of being pricey—it came with perks. A Small TV gift was broadcast across all live streams on Bilibili, giving the recipient not only major bragging rights but also massive exposure.

Yan Junze had sent over 600 Small TVs. When converted, that was over a million yuan—breaking the record for the highest single donation on Bilibili. His generosity had practically taken over the platform, and with this level of attention, if her video didn’t go viral, it would truly defy logic.

Cheng Youran scrolled down to check the comments under the video.

[You Can’t Eat Bunnies]: Over a million in tips? I’m so jealous! There are tons of Super Mario Cat streamers out there. Hey, big spender, notice me! Give me a million, and I’ll do a live-action version of Cat Mario. No clothes, either!

[Ink-Soaked Cold Noodles]: I suspect the commenter above is being suggestive, but I have no evidence.

[Polar-kun]: The streamer’s voice is so soothing. Just followed!

…

Cheng Youran poured herself a glass of water and sat back in her chair. As she read through the comments, her fingers unconsciously drummed on the table, and she fell into deep thought.

She wasn’t the first person to stream Super Mario Cat. Her speedrun wasn’t the fastest either. So why had Donghai Yan Junze specifically chosen to reward her with over a million yuan in gifts?

After mulling it over for more than ten minutes, she finally reached a conclusion:

—She must simply be irresistibly charming. Her personality was so magnetic that even through a screen, she managed to stand out among countless streamers and capture the attention—and heart—of a wealthy benefactor!

Satisfied with her reasoning, she didn’t dwell on it further. She linked her bank account and cashed out the earnings. After Bilibili took its cut, she received just over 500,000 yuan, which made her wince a little.

Click—

The door to the room opened, and Lu Zixiao entered holding his suit jacket with one arm. His gaze immediately landed on Cheng Youran, seated at the desk.

Cheng Youran turned her head and saw Lu Zixiao’s slightly tired face. Now that they were alone in the bedroom, she finally had a chance to ask what had happened.

“Today…”

But when she met his gloomy eyes, she suddenly lost her courage. The words were on the tip of her tongue but took a sharp turn instead. “Did you have dinner today?”

Lu Zixiao paused for a moment as he loosened his tie with one hand. He then walked toward her, step by step.

Stopping behind her chair, he unexpectedly placed a hand on her forehead. His deep voice carried a trace of confusion. “You’re not running a fever.”

His cool hand touched her skin, and a shiver like an electric current spread from her forehead. Cheng Youran instinctively turned her head, her eyes meeting Lu Zixiao’s dark, inscrutable gaze. Her reply came a beat too late. “I… I don’t have a fever.”

“Then why would you ask such a stupid question?” Lu Zixiao folded his arms, raising an eyebrow. “Do you think I wouldn’t know if I had eaten?”

—But you’re broke.

Considering Lu Zixiao’s obsession with saving face and maintaining appearances, Cheng Youran held back her retort. If she pointed it out directly, he might very well die of embarrassment. Swallowing her words, she chose to stay silent.

Lu Zixiao didn’t say a word as he observed her reaction. Suddenly, Cheng Youran stood up, walked briskly to the coat rack, and picked up her bag with a look of resignation. She carefully pulled out a bank card, hesitated for a moment, then approached him with heavy steps as if she were walking to her doom.

She handed him the card, her face turned away. “This… this is everything I have. You… you’d better spend it wisely, okay?”

Lu Zixiao took the card and glanced at the number on it. It was the same card he’d used to transfer money to her. She’d actually taken his joke seriously?

He was tempted to make a sarcastic remark, but seeing the earnest look on her face, he unexpectedly said nothing. Instead, he tightened his grip on the card.

When no response came from Lu Zixiao, Cheng Youran thought to herself: As expected, asking him to lower his standard of living is truly a challenge.

She let out a heavy sigh, her small face scrunching up into a frown. “Forget it. Even if you spend it all, it’s fine. I can earn money now—I can take care of you.”

Take care of him?

No woman had ever dared to say such a thing to him with such confidence. Did she even realize what she was saying?

Lu Zixiao stared at Cheng Youran’s profile, and an unfamiliar emotion surged in his chest. It was so overwhelming, it made it hard to breathe, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. All he knew was that he suddenly wanted to hold Cheng Youran tightly, to pull her into his arms and keep her close—so close it felt like she was a part of him.

“Why would you want to take care of me?”

His voice was uncharacteristically hesitant, almost awkward.

“Because you’re a good person,” Cheng Youran answered without a moment’s hesitation. “You’ve treated me well, so I should treat you well too.”

In the original story, Lu Zixiao had risen from the ashes after leaving the Lu Corporation. But the cost was steep—his hands were stained with blood, and his sins were unforgivable. He even killed his own father, and both his legs were permanently disabled, leaving him unable to stand ever again.

She didn’t want Lu Zixiao to become that kind of person.

—No one loved him. Everyone feared him.

Suddenly, Lu Zixiao pulled her into his arms. Caught off guard, she crashed into his warm, firm embrace.

He held her tightly as the faint scent of tobacco drifting from him. Resting his chin on the top of her head, his voice was low and thick with suppressed emotion, like something struggling to break free. “A good person? I’m not a good person at all.”

When he saw the investigation report, he realized that a monster lived within him—a violent, ruthless demon.

When he was a child, Lu Zhengrong had never once hugged him. He thought it was because he wasn’t good enough but if he worked hard and became exceptional, perhaps Lu Zhengrong would finally notice him.

The first time he scored a perfect grade, he asked the driver to take him to the company. Excitedly clutching his test paper, he burst into the general manager’s office, only to find Lu Zhengrong kissing another woman.

Lu Zhengrong calmly pushed the woman away and walked over to him. For the first time, he hugged him, patting his head with a tone laced with subtle menace. “Don’t tell your mother. You don’t want your parents to divorce, do you?”

He remembered his answer back then: No, I don’t want that.

From that day on, he stopped hoping for any kind of fatherly love.

But Lu Zhengrong gave all his fatherly affection to another child—a child the same age as him. And for that child, he went so far as to tamper with Jiang Rong’s car.

Jiang Rong died, and her assets fully became part of the Lu Corporation.

Recalling the details from the investigation, Lu Zixiao suddenly let out a cold laugh. He genuinely wanted to kill Lu Zhengrong, to slice his flesh off piece by piece and savor the look of despair on his face before he died.

Cheng Youran, standing in his embrace, instinctively sensed the rising violence in him.

Though she didn’t know the reason, she hesitated for a moment before summoning her courage. She wrapped her arms around him tightly and, in a soothing voice as though comforting a child, said. “Lu Zixiao, you are a good person.”

Those words were like a beam of light.

A light that appeared in the darkness of Lu Zixiao’s life.

Someone had finally told him that he could choose to be a good person.

Lu Zixiao leaned down and placed a light, cool kiss on Cheng Youran’s forehead. In a hushed, breathy voice, he murmured by her ear. “Goodnight, Cheng Youran.”

…

The next morning, Cheng Youran woke up early, only to find that Lu Zixiao had already left. She blinked in surprise and instinctively touched her forehead as if the coolness of his kiss still lingered there.

She didn’t have time to dwell on it as a knock came at the bedroom door. Peeking her fluffy head out from under the covers, she rubbed her sleepy eyes and called out. “Come in.”

The door opened, and Fang Liuyun entered, leading a grand entourage. She gave Cheng Youran a slight bow, her expression professional but friendly, and began introducing the group.

“This is Ye Zhinan, a renowned stylist in China. She’s the one behind the iconic peacock gown worn by diva Zhou Huiwen during her legendary performance…”

“This is Ono Taro, a Japanese hair artist who recently won the International Best Hairstyle Award…”

“And this is Mandy, a rising star in the French fashion world. She was recently hired as Chanel’s chief consultant…”

…

If anyone from the fashion world were present, they would have gasped “Oh my god!” The lineup was simply too extravagant. Just Ye Zhinan alone—countless celebrities had begged her to style them, all to no avail.

Cheng Youran was completely unaware of the significance of the people before her. She only marveled at how each name was followed by an impressively long list of accolades. Hmm… these are going to be hard to remember.

Still in her pajamas, she got out of bed and shook hands with each of them in turn. Then, with a puzzled expression, she looked at Fang Liuyun. She didn’t recall having anything scheduled for the day.

Before she could voice her confusion, Fang Liuyun, noticing her expression, spoke up. “Here’s the thing…”

=^_^=