Gu Ran noticed that the "plastic sisterhood" had suddenly become inexplicably warm toward her lately, not only asking after her well-being but also inviting her to their afternoon tea gatherings.
She found it odd until they sent her a screenshot of a WeChat Moments post.
Assistant Xu had passionately ranted about "a dead ex" in his post, and Ji Shiyu had even liked it.
"No wonder she dodged our questions every time—they broke up ages ago, yet she still acts like some unattainable white moonlight."
"The fact that Assistant Xu posted this obviously means it’s Ji Shiyu’s intention. Just how terrible was that proposal to make even Xu Hui lose his cool and publicly roast it? Hilarious."
The girls in the group were all quick to analyze—someone in Xu Hui’s position, as Ji Shiyu’s chief assistant, was no fool. If he dared to post such scathing remarks publicly, it clearly meant Ji Shiyu had zero lingering feelings for Qin Wenyi. In fact, he was thoroughly fed up with certain people and situations. This post was just Assistant Xu delivering the final warning, giving one last chance.
Everyone pieced together the sequence—from Ji Shiyu chasing after Gu Ran at the last birthday party, to acquiring Cat’s Paw, and now Xu Hui’s fiery WeChat Moments post. The message was crystal clear. Shocked, some began gravitating toward Gu Ran.
Listening to one of these sisters switch allegiances faster than flipping a page, Gu Ran couldn’t help but think, "You all really have too much free time."
Equally idle seemed to be Assistant Xu, who somehow got hold of another WeChat account. Only after Gu Ran added him did he reveal his identity.
Xu Hui sent her photos of clothes, shoes, bags, and jewelry—all new items brands had sent over during her absence. There were even two sets of jewelry personally selected by "President Ji," which he wanted delivered to her current address.
Gu Ran was tempted to block him outright, but before doing so, she sent him a screenshot of his own WeChat Moments post. She had circled the words "dead ex" in red as a pointed reminder.
Xu Hui froze when he saw the image.
He had been basking in the glory of his "heroic" WeChat post, but now, if he reconsidered, the phrase "dead ex" could, in a way… also apply to his own boss, Ji Shiyu.
Xu Hui: "…"
Suddenly, it felt like the boomerang had come back to hit him. Terrified that Ji Shiyu might realize the implications, he quietly retreated into the background.
"Did she accept it?" Ji Shiyu asked in the office.
Xu Hui, now keeping a low profile, answered truthfully: "No."
As if expecting this answer, Ji Shiyu glanced at the documents before him and said nothing more.
That night, Gu Ran noticed the Rolls-Royce Cullinan parked outside her apartment again, its interior lights on.
Her phone rang—another new, unfamiliar number.
She answered, staring at the car below, and heard the voice on the line say, "Nannan, come home."
Gu Ran stiffened at the nickname "Nannan." She and her father were from the south, where such endearments were common, but in the north, few used it. After moving to City A with her father, only the two of them knew this childhood name. Before, only her father had ever called her that.
She didn’t know how Ji Shiyu had found out.
This was the first time someone had called her by that name since her father passed away.
Suppressing the question of "How did you know?" Gu Ran replied, "No."
She hung up, looked at the car outside, and drew the curtains.
…
After Xinbo acquired Cat’s Paw, they upgraded the servers, significantly improving the brief lag that used to occur before every livestream. The acquisition initially seemed irrelevant to viewers, but soon, everyone noticed smoother performance, fewer crashes, and an overall better experience. Cat’s Paw forums were flooded with posts like "Thank you, Daddy Xinbo!"
Even Gu Ran’s livestream chat saw an influx of comments:
[Ranran, did you meet Daddy Xinbo that day? Thank them for us!]
[I’ve never used Cat’s Paw this smoothly before. Thanks to Daddy Xinbo for letting me admire Ranran’s heavenly beauty without interruptions.]
[Ugh, every time I see Ranran’s face, I just want to spend money on her. The more I see how adorable she is, the more I want to shower her with gifts.]
[Queen of Fishing, please let the fish in your pond spend a little, okay?]
Gu Ran: "…"
Her fanbase kept growing, and after weeks of streaming, many had already hit her initial gift threshold of 100 yuan just by sending small roses and lollipops worth a couple of yuan.
Lately, fans had been urging her to raise or even remove the gift limit—mostly because they wanted to compete for the top spot on her leaderboard.
Cat’s Paw had even run a poll recently: "What’s the hardest thing to achieve on Cat’s Paw?" The top answer? "Becoming the top gifter for Cat’s Paw’s most beautiful streamer."
Watching the flood of requests to open up high-value gifts, Gu Ran puffed her cheeks. "I don’t rely on gifts for income."
"My current earnings are enough to support myself. I don’t need the money!"
She clasped her hands above her head. "Thank you, everyone! A couple of yuan is more than enough! If you want to spend more, use that money to buy gifts for your parents, grandparents, or siblings! Family is what matters most. Thank you!"
After saying this, she lowered her hands and smiled at the camera.
She had been tempted at first but later reaffirmed her stance. Beyond avoiding tabloid scandals, what if someone sent tens of thousands just to add her on WeChat? Or even hundreds of thousands to meet offline? How would she handle that?
Though she knew most of her fans were genuine, with many female viewers tuning in daily, the sheer numbers meant there could always be bad apples.
The chat erupted in laughter:
[Got it, Ranran! Off to buy my mom a gift now.]
Her gesture of clasping her hands was quickly turned into a meme with the caption "Thanks, big bros and sis," spreading cheerfully across Cat’s Paw. Compared to the platform’s former top streamer, "Meng Miaomiao," Gu Ran—now dubbed "Cat’s Paw’s Most Beautiful Streamer"—enjoyed a far better reputation. Meng Miaomiao had been called out on forums for ignoring messages unless they came with red envelopes, though the backlash had been suppressed at the time.
Gu Ran’s refusal of high-value gifts even made it to a few buzzfeed accounts, where comments praised her integrity.
By now, Cat’s Paw’s top female streamer was undisputed—beautiful, principled, and entertaining, with no scandals except for being terrible at gaming.
Gu Ran watched her follower count rise daily, not just on Cat’s Paw but also on Weibo, where she’d surpassed a million. To celebrate, she even held a giveaway as a thank-you.
The absence of any scandals continued until one late night when a post suddenly appeared on the Cat Paw Forum: "Some streamers look down on their fans' meager donations, yet their deluded fans praise them for having 'good values'—meanwhile, those streamers are playing a far shrewder game than anyone in this room."
The post had a sensational title, and clicking into it revealed a classic exposé format:
"Former Cat Paw employee here. I couldn’t stand certain people’s marketing tactics, so I’m speaking out. On the day Cat Paw signed the acquisition deal with Xinbo, one of the streamer representatives shamelessly threw herself at Xinbo’s CEO in front of everyone. It was so awkward and disgusting to watch. And yet, she turns around and markets herself as someone who 'refuses donations' and has 'strong morals.'"
"Once she latched onto the CEO, do you really think she still cares about the scraps her fans throw at her? Some deluded fans are just too naive."
The post was practically name-dropping, stopping just short of writing "That person is Cat Paw’s #1 Beauty" in the title.
On that day, the only streamer representatives were "Cat Paw’s #1 Beauty" and "Big King Prawn." And when it comes to throwing oneself at someone, it’s safe to assume it wasn’t Big King Prawn flinging himself at Xinbo’s CEO.
The post quickly sparked heated debate. Recently, there had been plenty of bizarre rumor-mongering threads, so most commenters initially dismissed the post as baseless nonsense and reported it for deletion. But just when people thought the original poster had chickened out after being flamed for pages, they suddenly reappeared—this time with a photo.
"Some people just won’t admit the truth until they see the evidence. Look at this—already getting into his car, and you still think I’m making this up?"
The photo was taken from an overhead angle, clearly shot from inside an office building. Beneath a sign reading "Cat Paw Headquarters," a young woman was opening the door of a luxury car.
The moment this photo surfaced, the commenters who had been calling the original poster a liar fell silent. The timestamp matched the day of the Cat Paw-Xinbo signing, and the person in the photo was unmistakably "Cat Paw’s #1 Beauty," stepping into a high-end vehicle.
It wasn’t that streamers couldn’t afford luxury cars—many Cat Paw streamers were wealthy, some even coming from affluent families. But for a newcomer who had started her streaming career in a shabby motel, had only been streaming for a few months, and had landed just one sponsorship deal, this seemed highly unlikely.
......
Gu Ran had been asleep when Ding Ze’s phone call jolted her awake.
"Wake up. Stop sleeping."
"How did you get home after the streamer representative event that day?" Ding Ze demanded as soon as she answered.
Still groggy, Gu Ran mumbled, "I took a taxi."
Ding Ze exhaled sharply. "The truth."
"Someone got a photo of you."
He knew Gu Ran had nearly fallen that day and been caught by Xinbo’s CEO—a moment the post had twisted into "throwing herself at him." But the follow-up photo had genuinely surprised him.
Their previous joking about "drama-worthy scenarios" had been just that—jokes. Objectively, Ding Ze understood the allure of Xinbo’s CEO for young women. But he also knew the reality: a young, unmarried tycoon like that had no shortage of elite socialites and A-list actresses vying for his attention. No matter how stunning or popular Gu Ran was, she was still just a platform streamer. Reading too much into minor interactions and making reckless moves would only lead to disappointment.
Moreover, rumors like this were akin to an idol dating—disastrous for a streamer reliant on fan support.
Gu Ran, now fully awake from Ding Ze’s grave tone, briefly wondered if he’d somehow found out the truth. She sat up in bed, rubbing her bleary eyes, and opened the photo Ding Ze had sent—a shot of the female streamer entering a luxury car.
She stared at the image for a long moment.
Ding Ze pressed, "What really happened?"
Gu Ran clicked her tongue, piecing it together. She was annoyed at being woken up over something so trivial.
"I finally earned some money. Can’t I at least splurge on a premium taxi?"
