It turns out that not dancing anymore to avoid being recorded and shared online is useless—as long as you appear on a livestream, there will always be people ready to clip and edit your moments.
The contrast in the short video is extreme. It’s the same person, yet in one second she’s sweetly and innocently coquettish, and in the next, she transforms into a bewitching siren, leaving anyone who looks at her breathless and spellbound.
Gu Ran picked up her phone from where it had fallen to the floor and saw the caption from the blogger who posted the clip: "Remember the ‘Cat’s Paw No.1 Beauty’ who did that cute gesture dance the other day? I used to think she was just a sweetheart, but now I know—this is what it means to be the ultimate ‘fishing goddess’!"
At the bottom left of the video, the view count read: 10.03 million.
Gu Ran counted the digits—yes, there was indeed a "million" after the number, and with the boost from trending, that figure was still climbing.
Never in her life had Gu Ran felt so close to tears.
She tapped on the comments. The blogger had pinned three passionate explanations at the top for everyone:
"Stop asking, everyone! The ‘fishing goddess’ is a new streamer on Cat’s Paw, ID: ‘Cat’s Paw No.1 Beauty,’ real name Ranran! She streams every night from 7:30 to 10:30!"
"She’s seriously the cutest! The way she effortlessly ‘fishes’ for hearts is deadly. Just chatting with her for a bit during her livestreams makes my whole night."
"What does ‘fishing goddess’ mean? If this video made you lose control, if it made you want to get close to her—congrats, you’ve been ‘fished.’ That’s the power of the ‘fishing goddess.’"
The replies below were unanimous: "Who the hell wouldn’t want to?"
Gu Ran wished she could reach through the screen, grab the blogger by the shoulders, and shake him while screaming, "Stop explaining!"
Under the post, tens of thousands of comments poured in, all expressing gratitude:
"I’ve lived a virtuous life—thank you, blogger, for blessing me with this video."
"How can a girl be this good? Sweet yet seductive? Perfection."
"The gesture dance didn’t get me, but that red dress tonight? I’m calling her ‘wife.’"
"Panting panting panting—the fishing goddess is killing me."
"Stop teasing, sis, I’ll give you my life."
"Wuwuwu I’ve bent into a spiral."
"Spiral gang +1."
...
When Gu Ran first checked the trending list, her tag was at No. 6. By the time she returned with a heart full of dread, "Cat’s Paw No.1 Beauty’s Charm" had already claimed the top spot.
Right below it, another new tag was rising: #UltimateFishingGoddess#
Her phone buzzed. Ding Ze was enthusiastically spamming her with WeChat messages, thrilled about the trending topic.
But Gu Ran couldn’t bring herself to look. None of the excitement around her could lift her spirits. She was drowning in despair, her mind looping the same thought:
How did this happen?
How did this happen?!
She even found a dedicated thread discussing her hair:
"That long wavy hair gives off such a ‘playgirl’ vibe, damn."
"Who cares if she’s a playgirl? A beauty like her exists to play others, not get played!"
"If she wants to play me, I’ll gladly line up and take a number for heartbreak."
"If anyone dares steal the ‘playgirl’s’ green hat from me, I’ll fight them!"
"Wuwuwu if you’ve seen her streams, you know she’s actually super sweet—her voice, her expressions, even her little mannerisms are adorable. You’d never peg her as a playgirl. Is this the legendary ‘top-tier playgirl’? Everyone’s her ‘good gege,’ and she reels them in without even trying?"
Gu Ran clutched her hair. "..."
If only she hadn’t curled her hair or worn that dress!
With a miserable sigh, she calculated her meager savings and messaged Ding Ze:
"How much does it cost to remove a trending tag?"
"Wait, no—two tags."
"Can I get a discount if I remove two at once? Wuwuwu..."
Ding Ze: "???"
"People would kill to trend, and you want to remove yours?"
Gu Ran: "Exactly. Is it possible? pleading eyes"
"That video is seriously nothing special. Just another generic transformation clip—what’s so interesting about it? There are tons of girls with wavy hair and red dresses out there. And I didn’t even do anything ‘fishing’! I’m just a regular streamer scraping by on a basic salary!"
Ding Ze: "..."
He couldn’t tell if this was genuine self-deprecation or peak humblebragging.
"Cat’s Paw is a streaming platform, not a PR firm. We can’t remove trending tags. Just ride it out."
Gu Ran’s lips drooped in defeat.
This trending storm felt like being roasted over an open flame.
Had Ji Shiyu seen it? Had Qin Wenyi? What about her fake socialite "friends"?
The thought of her past life as a spoiled, caged canary being exposed—now reduced to a streamer—filled her with soul-crushing embarrassment. She messaged Ding Ze in despair:
"I don’t want to stream anymore..."
Seconds later, Ding Ze sent her a screenshot of her contract, with a red circle around the key clause:
Party A shall conduct livestreams during the xxx period, shall not migrate to other platforms, and shall not suspend broadcasts without valid reason. Breach will result in a penalty of xx ten thousand yuan.
Gu Ran stared at the astronomical penalty amount: F.
Ding Ze: "I made you a Weibo account. Username: ‘Cat’s Paw No.1 Beauty,’ password: xxxxx and xxxxx. Start building your presence there too."
Gu Ran checked the newly created account—it had already gained 20,000 followers in this short time.
She looked up at the sky, speechless.
Ding Ze, sensing her unusual resistance to fame, probed further:
"Most streamers would kill for this kind of exposure. You’re the only one who seems... against it. Is it because you don’t want someone recognizing you?"
Gu Ran pressed her lips together. "Yeah."
Ding Ze: "Your parents?"
Gu Ran’s gaze darkened. "No. Other people."
Ding Ze sighed. "If it’s not your mom or dad, why care what they think?"
"From the sound of it, you’re not even close with them."
"This is your job. You’re gaining fans just by being yourself—that’s impressive as hell."
"Look at how many followers you’ve gained since you started. People love you."
"Why let their opinions matter? If you quit over this, have you seen the penalty? You’re supporting yourself now. Are you expecting them to pay your way?"
"Giving up because of what others think? Honestly, it’s not worth it."
Gu Ran read Ding Ze’s long message, especially the last lines:
Why do you care so much about their opinions? You’re supporting yourself now—are you waiting for them to take care of you?
It hit her like a bucket of cold water.
He was right.
Why should she care what they thought?
They weren’t the ones supporting her—what right did they have to judge?
She wasn’t doing anything shady—no softcore content, no sketchy gifts. Just chatting and singing with her audience, making people happy. And they loved her for it.
How was that not impressive?
Don’t those fake socialite sisters crave attention too? Flaunting their elite certifications on Weibo and Instagram, posting selfies and flaunting wealth, yet barely attracting any sycophantic followers. Shouldn’t they be the ones seething with envy now, seeing how popular she’s become after leaving Ji Shiyu?
What could Ji Shiyu even do if he saw? His relationship with Qin Wenyi had nothing to do with her. They were completely disconnected now—she had walked away, far away, standing on her own two feet. It was something to be proud of, something joyous. Why should she give it up just because she feared her ex might see?
She had tasted the bitterness of having all her cards frozen, left stranded with nowhere to turn. Only then did she realize that a gilded cage, no matter how luxurious, was still a cage.
It was like sweet poison, lulling her into complacency until she forgot how to fly. And all the while, it caressed her beautiful feathers, whispering in her ear, "Stay here, be good. Don’t bother learning to fly. You don’t need to. Look how much your master adores you—he’ll spoil you like this forever."
The canary loved the master who gave her everything, willingly becoming his pet, content in her cage.
But no matter how splendid the facade, it was still drinking poison to quench thirst.
The day it all ended came without warning. In an instant, everything was gone. When the canary left the cage, she realized she had forgotten how to fly. The pain of crashing to the ground was her first taste of true cruelty.
Gu Ran gripped her phone, her eyes reddening.
She didn’t care what others thought. To her, no suffering in the world compared to the agony of realizing, after her cards were frozen, that she had achieved nothing—that she had nothing at all.
Her father was gone. To everyone else, she was just a bird to be gawked at and teased. No one cared how a bird felt, whether it was sad, whether it cried.
Another message from Ding Ze came through: "Made up your mind yet?"
Gu Ran took a deep breath, forcing a smile despite her reddened eyes: "Yes! Thank you!"
"I’ll go post on Weibo now."
She logged into the newly registered Weibo account Ding Ze had given her, its follower count already at 50,000.
She changed the profile picture to the same half-face selfie she used on Cat Paw, updated the bio to "Cat Paw Live Streamer," then posted a link to her livestream room under two trending hashtags.
"Come hang out with me later, everyone~"
Fans quickly liked, commented, and reposted.
Gu Ran smiled at the lively response in the comments.
......
Airport Expressway.
A black Bentley moved discreetly through traffic.
The man had just returned from a nearly ten-hour flight, leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed, resting.
Ji Shiyu had been abroad on business, buried in work, his days and nights flipped.
After a moment, he opened his eyes and pulled out his phone, scrolling to a text from days ago:
"[Hai W Boutique] Dear customer, your order for the 'Spicy Girl Bodycon French Strappy Red Dress' has shipped! Estimated delivery in 2-3 days. Please check your package~"
Ji Shiyu pulled up the dress on the shopping app.
A rich, vibrant red—he could already picture how perfectly it would complement Gu Ran’s skin.
He remembered that night, how she had worn a red dress like a sprite in the darkness. He had gripped her waist, stared into her tear-filled eyes, and learned for the first time what it meant to be utterly consumed.
She was still buying clothes—clothes he would like.
But she refused to see him.
The air grew heavy. Ji Shiyu idly scrolled through the app before asking the man in the front seat, "Is she back yet?"
Xu Hui, who hadn’t accompanied Ji Shiyu on this trip, felt sweat prickle his palms. He had known this day would come.
Holding his breath, he answered stiffly, "No."
Ji Shiyu’s brow furrowed.
She still hadn’t returned.
He didn’t understand what she was still hesitating over.
"Did you find her? Where is she now?"
Xu Hui’s scalp prickled. "She’s... she’s..."
The hesitation in Xu Hui’s voice tipped Ji Shiyu off. "Hm?"
Xu Hui suddenly regretted not relaying Gu Ran’s words to Ji Shiyu earlier.
She had said she wasn’t coming back. Never again.
Behind him, Ji Shiyu’s presence turned glacial. "Speak."
......
Night fell, the time when most people unwound after a long day’s work.
Ji Shiyu held his phone.
On the screen played a transformation video by the "Goddess of Seduction."
A sweet girl in a JK uniform blinked cutely at the camera before a gunshot sound effect signaled her shift—into a raven-haired, red-dressed siren with bedroom eyes.
The screen flooded with comments: ["Aaaaaah!!"] ["KILL ME, BEAUTY"] ["She’s too good at this!!"].
Some called the video "The Goddess’s Hunt Leaves No Survivors," claiming no one could resist taking the bait after watching.
But there was always an exception.
The man watched without a flicker of emotion, his pupils reflecting the screen’s glow, his aura freezing over.
He downloaded the Cat Paw Live app from the store.
It opened straight to the homepage, where "Cat Paw’s #1 Beauty" was featured in the recommended section.
Ji Shiyu clicked in.
And there, for the first time since she had fled his office, he saw her—the woman whose every detail he knew intimately.
Today, she wore a metallic cat-ear headband. Nearing the end of her stream, she waved goodbye:
"That’s all for today, everyone~"
But the comments erupted: ["WAIT! You promised to call us 'gege'! No cheating!"]
["Yeah! No cheating!!"]
The man’s expression darkened like still water.
On screen, she puffed her cheeks at the comments before tilting her head coyly and saying:
"Thank you, gege, for the rocket~"
"Goodnight, gege, sleep early~"
"Tomorrow night, I’ll still be your little darling~"
True to her word, she delivered all three lines, her face flushing shyly before she stood amid a storm of ["RIP ME"] ["Tonight is perfect"] and cut the stream: "Goodnight, everyone! Bye-bye~"
The screen went black.
Ji Shiyu stared at the darkened phone.
