Made it to the hot search

But “Orange Peel” could only watch helplessly as Gu Yi answered three full questions for that newcomer—questions that, to her, a full-time office worker, might as well have been written in ancient script.

#MyIdolIsSecretlyLevelingUpBehindMyBack
#HowDoesHeKnowSoMuch?!

In short, amid a flood of “Thank you, Teacher Gu!”, the newcomer left the livestream fully satisfied—and not before hitting the follow button on Gu Yi’s channel.

Of all the civil service exam tutors he’d seen across various platforms, this one? Clear, concise, and the best by far.

As soon as he exited the stream, he rushed to share it with his civil service prep group.

These days, job prospects were bleaker than ever. Every fresh graduate was piling into the civil service track. His exam group had hundreds of members, and they regularly shared notes on which teachers were best at logical reasoning or essay writing. Everyone had their go-to recommendations.

Unfortunately, all the good instructors were monopolized by big institutions. Prices for courses—online or in person—rose every year. What once cost a few thousand yuan now nudged into six figures.

“!!! Highly recommend a great instructor. His livestream handle is Vic-Gu Yi. His logic and reasoning skills are amazing—almost instant solutions. Personally, I think he’s better than Mr. Tu or Mr. Bi.”

“Is he selling courses or just live streaming?”
“No courses. He just answers questions during the stream. No fees either. Ask and he answers.”
“Following now.”
“Followed. +1.”

Meanwhile, Gu Yi, fresh off his stream, noticed his follower count steadily climbing—one or two with every refresh. He didn’t think much of it.

But the next day, after his usual round of square dancing, he came home to find he’d gained nearly a hundred new followers overnight. He barely had a few hundred fans to begin with, and recent weeks had seen more people leaving than joining. So this sudden bump left him puzzled. Curious, he entered his livestream again.

“Orange Peel,” his diamond fan, wasn’t online at the moment. But as soon as Gu Yi went live, a dozen new viewers piled in.

Top members of Vic rarely did livestreams—except when it was time to rally votes. For back-row members like Gu Yi, streaming often led nowhere. Without fresh content or popularity, fans dropped off fast.

[Damn, this teacher is hot!]
[Are we sure he’s actually a tutor and not just another influencer?]
[If influencers looked like this, no celebrity would survive. Wait… why does he look familiar?]

In the livestream, viewers fawned over Gu Yi’s face while flooding the chat with logic puzzles and exam questions.

Gu Yi blinked in surprise. “More test problems today?”

He had taught online classes in his past life. Compared to pure idol streaming, this was actually easier for him.

He rolled up his sleeves. “Let’s start with the first question. This is a number series problem. The pattern is simple once you spot it…”

Gu Yi had a science background, and math was his strong suit. With just a few clues, the fan who’d asked the question quickly figured it out: [Thank you, Teacher Gu!]

Next came the second question.

Gu Yi taught at a calm, steady pace. He didn’t just give answers—he broke down each concept thoroughly so viewers truly understood the principles involved.

[This guy is seriously good!]
[Better than the ¥2800 course I paid for.]
[And he’s ridiculously handsome! Honestly, better looking than my favourite idol. Never thought I’d find a new bias who teaches logic puzzles.]
[…Wait. I think I know who he is!]

One die-hard exam prep warrior immediately dropped a link in the group chat:

“Stunning Face Leads Local Square Dance!”

The video showed none other than “Teacher Gu” leading a neighbourhood dance. The livestream might have had some beauty filters, but in that candid video? He looked even better in real life.

The comments under the post were full of screeches and thirst:

[So handsome!!]
[The idol world is oversaturated with ugly men. Finally, someone easy on the eyes.]
[Too hot. Let him debut again, please!]

People who’d spent time in fandoms were usually skeptical of the term “good-looking civilian.” After all, no matter how attractive someone was, they were still no match for real celebrities.

[But seriously—he’s that good-looking!]
[His dancing was elegant too!]
[I live in that neighbourhood. Ever since he joined the dance group, this has become the go-to “celebrity complex.” Someone even set up a BBQ stall here just to catch a glimpse of him.]

[Wait… That’s actually Teacher Gu??]
[Who else would it be?]
[That video only had a few dozen comments this morning. Now it’s in the thousands. Bet it hits trending soon.]

Gu Yi, completely unaware, was still diligently walking his viewers through test logic.

Whether it was some inner teaching instinct or just his aura, his calm explanations seemed to awaken every viewer’s long-dormant desire to study. All evening long, “Orange Peel” hovered in and out of the stream, finally sending one lone comment amid the endless “Thank you, Teacher Gu!” messages:

[Actually, Gu Yi is an idol…]

But sadly, no one paid her any attention.

[We’re academic failures! We can’t even understand what he’s saying!]

—Still, at least Gu Yi seemed to be enjoying himself.

---

After another full night of teaching, Gu Yi gained several hundred more followers—nearing a thousand total.

He still didn’t understand where they were all coming from when a notification from the platform popped up:

“Congratulations! Your livestream has made the rankings.”

Reviewing the night’s performance, Gu Yi was shocked: he’d received several premium “rockets” and dozens of smaller gifts like cloud emojis. His earnings for the night? Over 500 yuan.

Only 2,500 more to hit his monthly income goal.

While Gu Yi revelled in the nostalgic joy of teaching again, “Orange Peel” was feeling a little bitter. She couldn’t help but post anonymously:

“Who can relate? My small, washed-up idol finally got a bit of heat from streaming, even made it onto the platform rankings. I clicked in all happy—
And found out he ranked #3… on the Education & Learning Newcomer Chart.”

“He really is an idol! He has a company! He’s in a boy group! Okay, maybe a super-obscure one, but still!”
“Now his brain is full of civil service exam questions, and I can’t keep up at all!”

Replies came instantly:

“Who’s your idol?”

“Orange Peel” didn’t respond again, but users quickly scoured the streaming platform and found a channel icon that clearly didn’t match the others.

“He’s from Vic.”
“Vic’s already a pretty obscure group, and this Gu Yi guy is one of the least known members. I remember he trended once for fainting?”
“+1, the name rings a bell.”
“People are talking about him in public forums too. And everyone who’s seen his streams says he explains the questions really well. What’s going on here?”
“By the way… is this also Gu Yi?”

That now-viral video had resurfaced again. Viewers stared at Gu Yi—leading a square dance—and then remembered the same Gu Yi who once trended for collapsing on stream. Thousands of netizens found themselves asking the exact same thing:

“This is the same guy? Seriously??”

The square dance clip was blowing up across platforms. There’s no shortage of face-obsessed viewers in this world—and Gu Yi, even while dancing something as kitschy as a square dance, was objectively, undeniably gorgeous. His looks were flawless from every angle.

“Can’t believe Vic had this kind of face all along.”
“FYI, Gu Yi’s currently in J-Team of Vic, literally bottom of the popularity charts.”
“Anyone seeing his old pics would never connect that person with the Gu Yi in this video.”

Gu Yi, as usual, had no idea.

He’d been livestreaming for two days straight. The questions his viewers asked weren’t particularly hard, but to avoid misleading them, he still went out and bought two official test prep booklets—one for the national exam and one for the provincial level. He blazed through both at top speed, and when someone asked if he could go over a full past paper on stream, he figured—why not?

It beat singing and dancing any day. This was easy.

After taking a short break from streaming, Gu Yi was debating what to cover next when a call came in from his manager, Shao Jing.

“Have you checked the trending topics on Weibo?”

“Log in right now and repost Zhu Yu’s Weibo. He tagged you hours ago—don’t make it awkward for him, yeah?”

Zhu Yu was Shao Jing’s cash cow. The rest of his roster combined couldn’t match Zhu Yu’s fanbase. Normally, Shao Jing would never let anyone else in Vic leech off Zhu Yu’s popularity.

Zhu Yu never interacted with Vic’s back-row members either. He only engaged with A-Team guys, and ever since joining that hit variety show on Qingning Channel, his social media interactions had been all about maintaining image and clout.

Gu Yi logged into Weibo and finally understood—his square dance video had gone viral.

The person who posted it thought he was a random guy. But as netizens dug deeper, they unearthed his true identity. Given how drastically different he looked now from when he first debuted, nobody would’ve guessed it was the same person—if some diehard fan hadn’t dug up an old Vic promo photo from his rookie days.

The sudden fame brought in a wave of new followers.

Zhu Yu had even reposted the video, tagging him with a casual:
“So handsome!”

With Zhu Yu’s boost, more Vic fans started recognizing him.

In five years with the group, this was the highest Gu Yi’s popularity had ever been.

But he didn’t repost Zhu Yu’s Weibo like Shao Jing had told him to. The old Gu Yi might’ve been scared of the man, but he wasn’t. And besides, he and Zhu Yu weren’t close. Reposting something just to look good would’ve felt fake as hell.

Naturally, Shao Jing was furious. Gu Yi couldn’t be bothered. He mumbled a few words to brush him off and hung up.

Not long after, he got a message on WeChat from a fellow Vic member, Cheng Yan—one of Shao Jing’s other clients.

“Gu Yi, did you piss off Brother Shao? I heard the company gave him a spot on Battle of the Stars, and he was gonna give it to you—but now he’s switching it to Jin Yang instead.”

“Just go apologize. If you do, the spot’s still yours.”

Gu Yi didn’t reply.

The old Gu Yi had never “offended” Shao Jing either. And yet he’d been ignored and belittled for five whole years.

He’d never dreamed of being some superstar, so he didn’t need to grovel for scraps. Especially not for Battle of the Stars—a survival-style variety show he wasn’t even qualified for yet. There was no point forcing it.

---

“He turned it down?”

Shao Jing slammed his hand on the desk. “Who the hell does he think he is?!”

It had been his idea to send Cheng Yan as a messenger. The slot was officially offered to Gu Yi by the production team, but Shao Jing didn’t want to just hand it over. He wanted Gu Yi to beg for it first.

But now Gu Yi had refused—and the show’s producers weren’t budging. They’d rather take the slot back than let it go to someone else.

Xingyao Entertainment, of course, wasn’t happy. Letting an opportunity like this slip through their fingers? Unthinkable.

“Just got a bit of heat and already thinks he’s untouchable. Mark my words, he’ll never make it big.”

Gu Yi had debuted in A-Team based on looks alone—and look how that turned out. Back to square one.