Gu Ran was still immersed in the overwhelming shock of "How can this earn so much money?" when she failed to hear the solemn words spoken by the TV host after interviewing the anonymous female streamer: "Entering this industry requires caution. Nowadays, more and more people are getting into live streaming. People often only see the glory of top streamers, but rarely notice the effort and hardships behind their success."
After exiting the stream of a host named Mao Tiantian, Gu Ran clicked into several other female streamers' live rooms one after another.
She had known about live streaming before, but in her understanding, to make it in this field, one needed at least some talent—whether it was gaming, dancing, eating, or selling products. That was until she saw these female streamers, who all looked nearly identical except for their clothes and hairstyles, simply sitting there chatting and laughing, occasionally singing a song or playing a game, while spending the rest of their time thanking viewers for gifts.
This seemed way too easy.
Gu Ran mimicked the high-pitched, cutesy voices of those streamers, trying out phrases like "Thank you, brother, for the rocket!" "Mwah!" and "Love you, mwah!" before finally bursting into laughter at her own performance.
What did Ji Shiyu matter? Even without him, she wouldn’t starve.
Locked in her tiny motel room—where the owner had kindly given her a 20% discount after seeing how long she’d stayed—Gu Ran spent two days studying how those female streamers sang, chatted, and most importantly, how they thanked their audience for gifts. Finally, she opened the Cat Paw Live app.
In the bottom right corner of the main screen was a small circular button with four words: "Become a Streamer."
Gu Ran followed the registration process, filling in her personal information and details, until she reached the step of creating a username.
A streamer’s username was crucial—it had to match their style, personality, and branding. Since each name had to be unique, Gu Ran had settled on the easiest persona to pull off: a soft, cute, and coquettish beauty streamer. She tried variations like "Ranran Little Sweetheart," "Adorable Little Gu Ran," and "Super Cute Sweet Ran," only to find all of them already taken.
Frustrated, she checked out who had stolen the names she’d painstakingly come up with.
Why was "Ranran Little Sweetheart" a bearded, muscular roughneck?
"Adorable Little Gu Ran" didn’t even look that adorable.
And "Super Cute Sweet Ran" wasn’t half as cute or sweet as her!
Who knew the first hurdle—picking a name—would be so difficult? It had to embody softness, cuteness, and flirtatiousness while still being available. After several more failed attempts, Gu Ran angrily punched the bed. With so many female streamers in Cat Paw’s beauty section, all the good names were already taken. At the end of the day, wasn’t the real appeal just one simple word—beauty?
She was the beauty.
None of the streamers she’d seen over the past few days were as pretty as her.
Defeated by the username ordeal, almost as if venting, Gu Ran typed out a blunt, no-frills name—Cat Paw’s #1 Beauty.
She casually clicked "Next," sipping from her water glass while waiting for the system to notify her that the name was already taken.
Instead, a pop-up appeared on her phone screen: Congratulations, "Cat Paw’s #1 Beauty," your username is available.
Gu Ran spat out her water.
Coughing, she wiped the spilled water off her chest and stared in disbelief at the app interface.
Her account had been successfully registered under the name "Cat Paw’s #1 Beauty."
Her face twisted uncontrollably.
What the hell?
In this era where names like "XX Sweetheart," "XX Little Cutie," and "Sweet XX" were all snatched up, how was something as straightforward as "Cat Paw’s #1 Beauty" still available?
Sure, the prefix limited it to the Cat Paw platform, but Gu Ran still cringed at the "Number One Beauty" part.
She knew she was good-looking—good enough that Ji Shiyu had once justified showering her with endless wealth. Seeing so many less attractive streamers making money had only boosted her confidence. But humility was a virtue, and the title "Number One Beauty" was so embarrassing it made her toes curl.
Gu Ran tried to change her username.
The system prompted: To ensure participation in the "New Diamond Streamer" event, newly registered usernames cannot be modified for two months.
The live streaming industry was booming, with platforms fiercely competing for dominance. Cat Paw Live, the industry leader, had launched the "New Diamond Streamer" event to encourage new broadcasters. Held quarterly, it automatically enrolled all new streamers who registered and went live during that period. Rankings were based on popularity, gifts, and viewership, with the top streamer earning the "New Diamond Streamer" title and the top ten receiving homepage promotions and exclusive platform contracts.
"..."
Failing to rename her account, Gu Ran grabbed her hair in frustration. To start streaming, she had to bind her ID number, which she’d already done during registration—meaning she couldn’t just create a new account.
Fine, she’d stick with this for now and change it later.
Gu Ran could only console herself with that thought.
After registering, the next step was the actual live streaming setup.
First, she had to choose a category. Cat Paw had many—gaming, food, outdoor activities, etc. Gu Ran selected the beauty section, where it seemed all you had to do was sit there looking pretty and occasionally say, "Thank you, brother!" to make money.
Once she picked her category, her phone’s front camera activated, displaying her face on the screen.
This was the no-filter mode.
Gu Ran had never feared any camera. Last year in Paris, she’d sat next to a famous Chinese actress known for her flawless beauty at a fashion show. When the foreign media released unedited, high-definition photos, Gu Ran had outshone the actress so thoroughly that the latter’s team scrambled to delete all their side-by-side images online, terrified of the comparisons spreading.
It was almost laughable—just last year, she’d been in the front row at Paris Fashion Week, overshadowing A-list celebrities, and now she was holed up in an eighty-yuan-a-day motel (after the discount), practicing how to say "Thank you, brother" for a live stream.
Even more absurd was the fact that she’d recently spent 370 million on a painting, only to now be budgeting for an eighty-yuan room while rehearsing gratitude for virtual gifts.
Gu Ran bit her lip.
So what if she was a female streamer? So what if she had to say "Thank you, brother"? She was earning money through her own efforts—no theft, no scams. Wasn’t that far nobler than being kept by Ji Shiyu?
Remembering the indistinguishable, filter-heavy faces of the streamers she’d seen earlier, Gu Ran looked back at her own reflection on the screen.
Maybe "Number One Beauty" wasn’t so far-fetched after all.
She had planned to start streaming right away, only to discover an unavoidable series of beauty filter options waiting for her.
She only now realized how incredibly advanced the beauty filters on live-streaming apps had become. Not only could they smooth skin and add soft lighting, but they could also let streamers manually adjust every facial feature—enlarging eyes, refining noses, slimming cheeks, even changing lipstick shades. It was practically like digitally sculpting your own face.
Some people relied on heavy filters to achieve beauty, while others were already flawless with their natural looks. Adding filters to their faces would only diminish their innate charm, almost like an insult.
Gu Ran belonged to the latter category.
She disliked using beauty filters, and all the photos in her phone gallery were raw, unedited live shots.
Gu Ran declined every effect—face slimming, skin brightening, eye enlarging—until she reached the final step. Just before clicking "Start Streaming," she paused, suddenly remembering something.
Streaming meant anyone could see her. And recently, along with the news that Qin Wenyi wasn’t dead, another rumor had spread—Ji Shiyu had broken up with his little canary, Gu Ran.
Or rather, the rumor was that Ji Shiyu had heartlessly kicked his pet songbird out of its gilded cage.
She had just made a splash at an auction, angering Yuan Mengxuan so much that her fake nose nearly twisted in fury. What would those people think if they found out Gu Ran had been cut off by Ji Shiyu, her credit cards revoked, and was now resorting to live-streaming?
She had mentally prepared herself for this, but she hadn’t prepared others.
Gu Ran stared at her reflection on the screen—completely natural, not a single filter applied.
No! Absolutely not! Unacceptable!
She frantically backtracked, starting from the first skin-smoothing option, and cranked every effect—face slimming, eye enlarging, nose refining, skin whitening—to the max, activating an 18-level beauty filter.
As it turned out, while the beauty filters on Cat Paw Live were impressive, overdoing them led to comically exaggerated results.
Oversized eyes paired with a sharp, influencer-style chin, combined with extreme whitening and soft lighting—the kind of editing that would make even her own mother fail to recognize her.
Gu Ran examined her heavily filtered face on the screen and couldn’t help but marvel, "This feature is actually pretty good."
Her face was so altered she barely recognized herself, let alone anyone else.
Though the excessive filters made her look unnaturally artificial, her natural beauty still shone through, making the distorted version somewhat bearable. She had seen plenty of streamers who weren’t particularly stunning, so this should be enough for her broadcast.
After adjusting the filters and setting up her phone, Gu Ran finally clicked "Start Streaming."
The top-right corner displayed the live viewer count, while the top-left showed her stream’s popularity score under her ID: "Cat Paw’s #1 Beauty."
Both numbers were currently at zero.
Nervous, Gu Ran greeted the empty chat, "Hello everyone, I’m—"
She couldn’t bring herself to say the ridiculous ID out loud. "I’m Ranran Sweetheart~"
No one responded. Zero viewers, no comments, no interaction.
It was normal—she had just started.
Confident she had mastered the typical routine of a beauty streamer, Gu Ran played some music and began singing since no one was chatting yet.
Her singing was average, but her voice had a pleasant tone, making simple, sweet songs manageable.
She chose a trending love song that many female streamers were covering. After singing a few lines, she noticed the viewer count suddenly jump to "1."
A notification appeared: User "Daily Benz Rider" entered the stream.
Gu Ran’s heart leapt. She was about to say, "Welcome, Daily Benz Rider," when the viewer count dropped back to "0."
User "Daily Benz Rider" left the stream.
"..."
Gu Ran continued singing the song.
For the next twenty minutes, she kept her eyes glued to the viewer count, singing two more songs and repeatedly asking, "Is anyone there?" Eventually, she realized reality didn’t match her expectations.
She had assumed viewers would flood in immediately, mindlessly spamming comments and gifts like she’d seen on other streams.
Instead, her viewer count fluctuated between zero and single digits. Not a single comment appeared in twenty minutes—just people clicking in from the "New Streamers" list, glancing, then leaving immediately.
At first, she felt excited when the count rose from 0 to 1 or 2. But soon, it turned into disappointment.
She knew these were accidental clicks—people who’d leave in seconds.
It wasn’t as easy as she’d naively imagined. Just sitting there, half-heartedly singing off-key songs and calling out "Thanks, big bro!" wouldn’t magically make money appear.
People weren’t that stupid.
An hour passed.
Gu Ran forced a smile through several songs and countless unanswered pleas—"Anyone watching?" "What song should I sing next?" "Come chat with me!"—before finally slumping in defeat, understanding what true loneliness felt like.
Head drooping, she stared at her heavily filtered reflection against the tacky background music.
She had been talking to herself with Ji Shiyu, and now, even streaming felt like a solo act.
Maybe she should stop dreaming.
Today’s stream seemed like a complete failure.
Sniffling, she leaned forward to end the broadcast when she noticed the viewer count: "10."
?
She blinked. The number had jumped to "23."
The sudden surge shocked her. She had no idea why over twenty people had suddenly entered her stream—and the number kept rising. Sitting up straight, she cleared her throat and launched into her rehearsed introduction: "Hello everyone, I’m Ran—"
Midway, her attention was stolen by the sudden flood of comments.
[Forum sightseeing group checking in!]
[Here to see for myself.]
[Sightseeing squad, checking in—beep!]
[No way it’s real lol]
["#1 Beauty" HAHAHAHA]
[The curtain really IS crooked!]
For the first time, her stream felt alive. But the comments confused her.
What did "forum sightseeing group" mean?
The viewer count had already surpassed a hundred.
Gu Ran hesitantly asked, "Hello, everyone! You can call me Ranran. Thank you for joining my stream. Um… can someone explain what this ‘forum sightseeing group’ is about?"
This time, she wasn’t met with silence. A reply popped up:
[You don’t know? Your shameless ID got you roasted on the forums LOL]
Gu Ran still didn’t understand, but her gut told her being "roasted on the forums" wasn’t a good thing.
Cat Claw Live has a forum similar to the old-style message boards, where users can post, reply, or simply lurk. It’s a space for discussing streamers, gaming, venting, or seeking advice—anything goes. Each streamer can also apply for their own dedicated sub-forum, akin to a super topic on Weibo, where fans can gather and interact.
Gu Ran, aside from her phone, also owns an iPad. Not wanting to interrupt her suddenly bustling livestream, she picked up the tablet and opened the Cat Claw forum through the app.
The first thing that caught her eye was a trending post highlighted in red on the homepage:
"Infuriating! New streamers these days have zero respect for honest viewers. How dare she call herself ‘Cat Claw’s No. 1 Beauty’ with filters thick enough to build a wall? Do they think us nerds are that easy to scam?"
Gu Ran: ?
