In the lively livestream of the "Most Beautiful Girl on Cat Paw," the hostess's sweet and melodious voice filled the air.
However, unlike her usual singing and chatting sessions, today’s content was a little different.
"Substitute the final value of x into equation three, and after two steps of calculation, you’ll get the value of y. 224 divided by 4 equals 56, so there are fifty-six rabbits in the cage in total."
"And that’s how you solve this problem!"
In front of the camera, Gu Ran, who had been explaining while solving the problem, let out a sigh of relief as she finished. She couldn’t help but lament sympathetically, "Elementary school problems are getting harder and harder these days. Poor kids—even a simple 'chickens and rabbits in a cage' problem has to be made so complicated."
"Now, let’s move on to the next one."
The live audience, who had been watching her solve one Olympiad math problem after another all night, was stunned: This is freaking unreal.jpg
The hashtag #MengMiaomiao had been trending for most of the day, though it ended with her own downfall. But as the "Most Beautiful Girl on Cat Paw," who had been accused by Meng Miaomiao of being nothing more than a cutesy, dancing, and outfit-changing streamer, tonight’s livestream drew extra attention.
Tens of thousands of viewers flocked in from the trending list, eager to see how she would flirt, dance, and act adorable—secretly thinking that female streamers these days really could make money just by flaunting their looks. But the moment they entered, they saw her in pink loungewear, her hair tied up in a messy bun, her bare face stunningly flawless. She cleared her throat in front of the entire audience, then pulled out three books: Elementary School Olympiad Math Collection, Middle School Olympiad Math Collection, and High School Olympiad Competition Problems.
The viewers, who had just been mentally dismissing her as nothing more than a pretty face, were left with a collective WTF moment before exclaiming in awe.
Forget not flaunting her looks tonight—she was now flaunting her knowledge! A beauty streamer was actually flexing her brains!
Fine, let’s watch! Let’s see what tricks she’s got up her sleeve!
Turns out, not only was the streamer gorgeous, but even her problem-solving livestream was wildly entertaining. Unlike other study streamers who silently scribbled away, she analyzed her thought process out loud while cracking jokes like, "If a pool has one inlet and one outlet leaking, it’s clearly broken—why not just sell it?" or "The problem writer is so stingy, making five kids share one tiny cake," or "Don’t panic, guys, let me grab a protractor and measure this angle first."
When she actually pulled out a protractor to measure an angle in a geometry problem, the chat exploded.
[LMAO pulling out a protractor for angles is too damn relatable hahahaha]
[Help! I can’t believe I just spent an hour watching a streamer solve elementary school math problems—AND I ENJOYED IT!]
[Same here!]
[Oh no, I just realized I can’t even solve these elementary school problems anymore. Am I hopeless?]
[Why are kids’ problems so hard nowadays? I’ll never call my little brother dumb again. crying.jpg]
[She’s so adorable, I can’t—]
[Why is she so pretty even when doing math??]
[This has to be a clapback at Meng Miaomiao. Who says Gu Ran only knows how to act cute and dance? She can even solve elementary school Olympiad problems! A true gem among streamers!]
[More like a chaotic force of nature LOLOL]
[Let the competition begin! All streamers, start solving Olympiad problems now!]
In the livestream, Gu Ran didn’t stop after finishing the elementary school problems. She boldly led her audience into the more advanced realms of middle and high school Olympiad math.
She had been a decent student back in school, and now, fueled by the flood of comments like "Gu Ran is so smart!" and "Gu Ran is a genius!," her confidence skyrocketed. After solving two middle school problems with ease, she grew even bolder. With a smug "I’m so smart, I’ll solve this in no time" expression, she flipped to a high school Olympiad competition problem.
Three minutes later.
Silence.
Gu Ran stared at the string of mathematical symbols she had long forgotten: "...?"
The chat erupted with cheers and encouragement, virtual gifts like lollipops and roses flying across the screen: [Genius Gu Ran, you got this!!!]
Gu Ran: "..."
Genius Gu Ran was not getting this.
She took a deep breath. "Well, uh..."
"High school Olympiad problems are just too complex and profound. Even if I solve them, I’m afraid you guys might not understand right away."
"So let’s just go back to elementary and middle school problems, okay?" She flashed a sweet, innocent smile at the camera.
She thought her excuse was flawless—her "genius" persona was secure. But less than a second later, her audience ruthlessly called her out:
[You just can’t solve it, admit it!]
[Yeah! Genius Gu Ran is lying—you totally hit a wall LOLOL]
[But making it all the way to high school problems is still impressive. I couldn’t even solve some of the middle school ones.]
[OMG she’s just too adorable hahaha]
Gu Ran covered her face in shame.
These fake fans.
That night, clips of the popular, alluring beauty streamer live-solving math problems—wholesome enough for all ages, hilarious with her running commentary, arrogantly breezing through elementary and middle school levels before crashing spectacularly at high school and getting exposed by her own fans—flooded comedy rankings everywhere.
...
Late that night, in the silent headquarters of Xinbo Group, the CEO’s office remained lit.
Ji Shiyu had just finished working overtime. Having missed the livestream, he finally had time to watch the replay—the clip of Gu Ran rendered speechless by a high school Olympiad problem.
For a moment, it felt like he had traveled back in time—walking past a classroom, seeing a girl in a school uniform biting her pen cap, her nose scrunched up in frustration as she racked her brain over a problem.
Back then, a friend had asked him, "Isn’t that your family driver’s daughter?"
Ji Shiyu exited the video with a hint of restlessness, noticing new messages on WeChat.
Qin Wenyi: [Shiyu, did something come up tonight?]
Qin Wenyi had officially returned to the country yesterday. Tonight, their old circle of friends had thrown her a welcome party, and his social media was flooded with photos from the event.
Many had attended. Ji Shiyu had not.
Qin Wenyi: [All these years, I’ve wanted nothing more than to come back. I wasn’t dead, but my parents had their own plans. You know how my uncles would do anything for the family fortune.]
[Can’t we even be… ordinary friends anymore?]
Ji Shiyu’s fingers traced the cold edges of his phone, his eyes reflecting the screen’s pale glow as he read her words.
He didn’t want to reply. Suddenly, even the chat interface felt intrusive.
Because Gu Ran was gone.
The canary had flown from its gilded cage, building a new nest with twigs she gathered herself, learning to spread her wings again—unwilling to return to the warmth of before.
In the end, Ji Shiyu still typed out a reply: [There was no need for me to go.]
Because they had already broken up—long before her accident.
Ji Shiyu abruptly stood up.
...
Gu Ran wrapped up her livestream—a mix of patriotic enthusiasm and goofy humor—where she solved primary and middle school Olympiad math problems. Later, she discovered clips of her struggling with high school competition questions had been screen-recorded and turned into memes circulating online.
The first meme showed her smug, triumphant expression while solving elementary-level problems, captioned: "Me before the exam, thinking I’ve got this in the bag."
The second meme froze her dumbfounded, wide-eyed look when faced with the high school problem: "Me after the test paper lands on my desk."
The third meme captured her stubbornly arguing in the livestream that she skipped the harder problems "so viewers wouldn’t feel lost," captioned: "Me trying to explain my forged grades to Mom."
The comment section under the meme post was flooded with tags directed at "Meng Miaomiao’s #1 Beauty," with rows of "LMAOOOO" standing out.
Fuming, Gu Ran texted Ding Ze: I’m pulling an all-nighter to study! I’ll solve that high school Olympiad problem tomorrow!
Ding Ze replied with a deadpan: [YouGotThis.jpg]
Gu Ran glared at the emoji, convinced it mocked her: You don’t believe I can do it, do you?!
I wasn’t a bad student, okay?!
She huffed audibly.
The mention of academics prompted Ding Ze to ask: Which high school did you attend?
Gu Ran: Yingde International.
Why?
At "Yingde International," Ding Ze’s reaction was visceral: Holy shit, did your family go bankrupt?!
Gu Ran: [...]
She understood his shock.
Yingde International was infamous for its exclusivity—not just for its astronomical tuition but also its ruthless scrutiny of students’ family backgrounds. The school radiated capitalist elitism, often making headlines when nouveau riche parents failed to buy their kids’ admission despite throwing millions at it.
That Gu Ran, a chauffeur’s daughter, had attended Yingde International was a testament to the Ji family’s clout in those circles.
The memory made her exhale softly into her phone.
If she could choose again, she’d never set foot in that school.
No more feeling like an outsider among her peers. No more sitting alone on field trips, nibbling cold bread while others ate overpriced school lunches. And definitely no more pining for Ji Shiyu.
She knew it had been a crush—sneaking to the garden every afternoon to watch him play basketball, then aching when he walked beside Qin Wenyi.
What she’d thought was a dream come true had withered into nothing.
After ending the chat with Ding Ze, Gu Ran scrolled mindlessly until her phone rang.
An unknown number flashed on the screen.
Who’d call this late?
As a streamer who refused expensive gifts, she’d never shared her private contacts with big-spending "fan brothers" like others did.
Hesitating, she answered.
"Hello?"
...
In an ordinary residential complex, where construction noise from a nearby site pierced the night, a car that clearly didn’t belong idled by the curb.
Ji Shiyu sat in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel, the other gripping his phone.
Gu Ran lived in one of these apartments.
Her soft "Hello" reached him through the line.
His throat tightened. "Gu Ran."
He said, "Come home with me."
It was the first time he’d used "home" to describe the lakeside villa at Nanchen Residence.
He’d come to take her back.
Faint construction sounds buzzed through the call. Gu Ran rushed to the window and spotted his car below.
Ji Shiyu gazed up at her building.
"You can still stream sometimes. From home."
She almost hung up, but his words made her pause.
"First, I don’t have a home. That’s your house, not mine."
"Second, since when do you decide what I can or can’t do? That’s my call, got it?"
"Are you for real, micromanaging me post-breakup?"
