Gu Ran stood excitedly on the championship podium after the competition, receiving the gold medal from the event's organizing committee.
She had never won any awards growing up—her last achievement was being named a "Three-Good Student" in elementary school. Sports had never been her forte, so winning gold at the Idol Sports Festival felt as exhilarating as clinching an Olympic world championship.
After receiving her medal, Gu Ran immediately snapped a photo and posted it on her livestream platform and Weibo. Then she noticed that her intense, game-deciding showdown with Zhou Yufei had already gone viral, trending as a hot topic.
Some dubbed the match a battle between a livestream hostess and a rising starlet. Many who didn’t know the two watched the replay repeatedly before realizing the one with the messy bun was the internet hostess, while the one whose hair extensions fell off mid-match was the rising actress.
The collective reaction was pure shock.
The world of livestream hostesses had clearly evolved—no longer the era where online celebrities crumbled under real-life scrutiny.
Gu Ran’s fans, the "Little Fishies," enthusiastically promoted her in the trending discussions, hyping her as the ultimate all-rounder: sweet yet spicy, elegant yet adorable, the undisputed queen of charm and Cat Paw Platform’s top beauty—worth every bit of admiration.
At the venue, a staff member handed Gu Ran a few photos to sign as prizes for the top three fans on yesterday’s Idol Charging Leaderboard.
Gu Ran took the pen but paused mid-signature, her thoughts drifting to the top-ranked fan—"wdlpml."
After a brief hesitation, she swiftly signed her name.
The staffer smiled and said, "One of your fans came to watch today. They’re over there."
Gu Ran followed the gesture to the VIP section, where a man sat low-key in a black mask, his presence and aura unmistakable even in the crowd.
Then she remembered the 580,000 charging points he’d contributed, and her post-victory joy instantly soured.
The staffer nudged, "That’s the No. 1 on the charging leaderboard. Want to go say hi or take a photo together?"
After all, he’d spent a fortune on her.
Gu Ran handed back the signed photos, coolly indifferent. "No need."
The staffer watched her walk away, baffled.
Since when did livestreamers treat their biggest spenders with such attitude?
——
That afternoon, Gu Ran participated in the women’s 50-meter dash but was eliminated in the preliminaries—fitting her original "just for fun" goal.
With all events concluded, Cat Paw Platform had sent hosts to the Idol Sports Festival for years, yet Gu Ran became its first to win a medal—let alone gold.
The official Cat Paw Weibo account celebrated her victory, and the vice president personally rewarded her with a 50,000 RMB bonus.
Gu Ran hadn’t expected prize money, and her annoyance at the VP’s earlier trending antics faded slightly.
Zhou Yufei, meanwhile, placed second in her strongest event, archery, due to a misstep. Passing Gu Ran, her eyes burned with resentment.
Gu Ran sighed at Zhou Yufei’s glare.
Honestly, those hair extensions had looked flawless. If not for their strained relationship, she might’ve asked for the brand. Had the bowstring not snagged them loose, she’d never have noticed.
Lesson: celebrities shouldn’t force personas that don’t suit them—it’s a recipe for disaster.
A brief but grand closing ceremony marked the end of the two-day Idol Sports Festival.
As the event wrapped, the atmosphere relaxed. Athletes dispersed, some male idols slinging arms over shoulders to discuss dinner plans.
Ding Ze texted Gu Ran—since this counted as a work trip, he’d pick her up.
After replying, Gu Ran changed in the locker room, tucked her medal away, and headed to the parking lot.
Her phone buzzed with a bank notification: the VP’s 50,000 RMB bonus had arrived.
No one dislikes prize money. Grinning, Gu Ran planned to splurge on two pretty dresses and save the rest for a future home or car.
Though she’d only secured two sponsorships so far, their payouts were hefty. At this rate, even in A City’s insane housing market, buying property wouldn’t be impossible.
Her own home, her name on the deed—no more cages. She’d have a place that was truly hers.
A profound satisfaction washed over Gu Ran, far surpassing the fleeting thrill of once spending 370 million on a painting.
Distracted by her bank balance, she bumped into someone on the way.
"Excuse me," Gu Ran apologized without looking up to see who it was, continuing to walk forward.
Ji Shiyu frowned as he watched Gu Ran staring at her phone while walking.
"Gu Ran," he called out to her.
Hearing the familiar voice, Gu Ran lifted her head and saw Ji Shiyu standing in front of her.
She had already spotted him in the audience earlier, so running into him now didn’t surprise her much.
She gave him a slight nod in acknowledgment before continuing on her way.
Ji Shiyu reached out and stopped her from leaving. His throat moved slightly before he finally said, "Congratulations."
Gu Ran had no choice but to pause. She glanced at his hand and replied indifferently, "Thanks."
Ji Shiyu: "Let me take you home."
Gu Ran immediately refused, "No need."
Noticing his grip hadn’t loosened, she pursed her lips. "Let go of me."
Ji Shiyu: "Ranran."
Gu Ran took a deep breath, sounding almost exasperated. "Ji Shiyu, haven’t I made myself clear enough?"
"I don’t like you anymore," she said, enunciating each word as if it were the most ordinary statement.
She had made that decision long ago, back when she was crying alone in a cheap motel room.
Ji Shiyu’s breathing hitched slightly. He averted his gaze, as if trying to mask the flicker of panic in his eyes, and pretended not to register her words. Instead, he repeated, "Let me take you home."
Gu Ran shook off his hand. "No."
"Someone’s picking me up."
Ji Shiyu steadied the tightness in his chest and spoke again. "Then when will you come with me to Beiyi?"
Gu Ran was reminded of Ji Heyuan, Ji Shiyu’s father, who still lived there.
She used to visit Ji Heyuan with Ji Shiyu every two weeks, but the last time she had gone was months ago.
On that final visit, she had been happily discussing wedding plans with the spirited old man, even promising to have three children in the future.
How times had changed.
Gu Ran pressed her lips together. No matter what, she felt she should still pay her respects to the elder who had always treated her kindly. "Fine," she agreed.
"You pick the time."
Ji Shiyu’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he recalled their last trip to Beiyi together.
She had gotten along so well with the old man.
Gu Ran studied Ji Shiyu’s thoughtful expression. "You’re wondering how you’ll explain my presence to Uncle, aren’t you?"
"I didn’t break my promise—I said I’d have three children someday."
She gave him a once-over before lifting her chin, entirely unbothered. "But I never said they’d be yours."
