Gu Ran clicked on the trending post at the top of the homepage, and the first floor was a screenshot from a livestream.
She stared at the screenshot for a moment before realizing that the person in it was supposedly her—herself, but so distorted by the eighteen-level beauty filter that she was almost unrecognizable.
It was only now, looking at the screenshot, that she noticed how the excessive filter had warped the curtains behind her into an "S" shape.
The post had gone viral the moment it was published, staying pinned at the top of the Cat Paw Forum’s homepage. In just an hour, replies had already surpassed ten thousand. Its popularity wasn’t due to anything else—it just happened to tap into a recent hot topic.
These days, female streamers competed based on looks, figure, and their ability to act cute—and fans ate it up, happily showering their favorite streamers with gifts. Sure, they knew streamers used beauty filters, but they assumed that if someone looked stunning with the filter, they couldn’t be that bad without it.
That was, until a moderately popular streamer recently forgot to turn on her beauty filter during a PK session and was instantly exposed.
Without the filter, fans discovered that the streamer with the ID "Ultra-Sweet Little Loli," who cooed and acted adorable with a high-pitched voice every day, was actually a bearded man using a voice changer and eighteen levels of makeup to pass as a woman.
The incident sent shockwaves from Cat Paw all the way to Weibo’s trending list. The top fan on the "Ultra-Sweet Little Loli’s" leaderboard, who had gifted nearly 100,000 yuan, was so devastated that he deleted his account overnight and fled the internet.
Only then did everyone realize just how powerful beauty filters could be.
After the "Ultra-Sweet Little Loli" scandal, all the users on Cat Paw who had once happily thrown money at their favorite streamers began questioning the flawless, big-eyed, high-nosed, pointy-chinned faces they saw on screen.
With the cautionary tale of "Ultra-Sweet Little Loli" fresh in their minds—and the image of her top fan fleeing in disgrace—the otaku who spent their days gifting streamers vowed to be more discerning.
As streamers in the beauty category scrambled to lower their filters and prove they weren’t frauds, one person suddenly arrived—with her eighteen-level filter still cranked up to the max.
If it had just been an obvious scam targeting gullible people, that would’ve been one thing. But her ID name was downright audacious: "Cat Paw’s Most Beautiful Woman."
By now, everyone knew that an eighteen-level filter could turn a burly man into a delicate beauty—or make even a pig look pretty.
And here was this "Cat Paw’s Most Beautiful Woman," waltzing in with her eighteen-level filter, clearly trying to fleece them.
This wasn’t just scamming idiots—this was an outright insult to the intelligence of every otaku who watched female streamers!
So the post exploded in popularity, with people passionately replying.
Third floor: "Holy shit, are you kidding me?! This filter is so obvious! Do they really think we otaku are that easy to scam?!"
Fifth floor: "Do they think we’re still as naive as before?!"
Ninth floor: "My fists are clenched."
Twentieth floor: "Cat Paw’s Most Beautiful Woman? I’m literally speechless.jpg"
Thirty-third floor: "People say only men are average yet confident, but clearly, that’s not the case."
Thirty-fourth floor: "Bro above, how do you know this ‘Most Beautiful Woman’ isn’t actually a man?"
Thirty-fifth floor: "..."
"My bad, I wasn’t thinking big enough."
One hundred sixteenth floor: "I’ve seen my fair share of warped curtains from streamers’ filters, but this one takes the cake!"
Two hundredth floor: "Seriously, her ID is ‘Cat Paw’s Most Beautiful Woman’? I gotta check this out."
Seven hundred eighty-third floor: "Experience tells me that any streamer who needs this heavy of a filter is either a man in drag or looks like Sister Ruhua."
...
Gu Ran quickly skimmed through a few pages of the viral post roasting her, then looked back at her livestream. When she checked the viewer count in the top right corner, her jaw dropped.
The number of live viewers had already surpassed a thousand.
The popularity score in the top left, calculated based on viewers and gift donations, had also broken ten thousand.
Every single one of those thousand-plus people had come from the post to gawk at her.
Gu Ran stared at the barrage of comments at the bottom of the screen—"Just here to witness history," "I’m shook," "That curtain is doing gymnastics," and "I’ll bet five bucks this is a cross-dressing dude"—and felt at a loss.
She hadn’t turned on the eighteen-level filter because she was a man in drag.
Nor because she looked like Stephen Chow’s Sister Ruhua.
She just didn’t want to be recognized by people from her past.
Still, despite being roasted on the forum, having so many viewers in her stream was undeniably exciting.
Gu Ran tried to explain: "Um, hello everyone! I’m a newly registered streamer. It’s nice to meet you all—you can call me Ranran."
"I’m not a cross-dressing dude, and I’m not using a voice changer either."
She puffed her cheeks, a little aggrieved. "The ‘Cat Paw’s Most Beautiful Woman’ ID was something I typed in on a whim after all the other names I tried were taken. It just happened to go through, and now I can’t change it."
"And I’m not Sister Ruhua. I think I’m…" She scratched her head, choosing to be modest, "actually kind of good-looking?"
But the moment Gu Ran said, "I think I’m kind of good-looking," the comments instantly turned into a chorus of Lu Yu impersonators:
"Really? I don’t believe you."
Followed by:
"If you’re actually good-looking, why do you need an eighteen-level filter?"
"Bro, otaku money isn’t as easy to scam as you think."
"Actions speak louder than words—turn off the filter!"
"Prove it! Turn off the beauty mode!"
Gu Ran pouted at the comments, then looked at her own face on screen—so distorted by the filter that even her own mother wouldn’t recognize her.
The viewer count had already crossed two thousand.
But then she noticed something else: despite the rising numbers, not a single person had sent her a gift since she started streaming.
Most of these people had come from that forum post, just here to rubberneck.
Why would they spend money on a sideshow?
Gu Ran gritted her teeth.
She’d started streaming to make money. If no one was donating, what was the point? But now that she finally had an audience, she couldn’t waste this chance.
None of them believed she could actually be decent-looking under that filter.
After a few seconds of silent deliberation, she reasoned:
Her old "friends" from her past life were too busy shopping and one-upping each other to watch livestreams, right?
And Ji Shiyu was so busy he probably didn’t even know female streamers existed.
So there was no way they’d find out… right?
At the thought of Ji Shiyu, Gu Ran mentally cursed twice.
She took a deep breath and reached to turn off the filter—but hesitated at the last second.
Then, an idea struck.
Gu Ran first checked the price list of gifts in the virtual gifting section, then coquettishly mimicked other female streamers by batting her eyes at the camera. "Since everyone’s so eager to see me without filters, how about this? Whoever sends me a 'Firework Cannon' gets to see me stand up and prove I’m not a cross-dresser. Whoever sends 'Love’s Guardian' gets me turning off two layers of filters. A 'Romantic Fireworks' gift means I’ll disable four layers. And if anyone splurges on a 'World Carnival,' I’ll turn off all the beauty filters."
Gu Ran rattled off the conditions based on the gift price tiers—the more expensive the gift, the fewer the filters—before blinking hopefully at the screen. "I’m actually quite good-looking, really. You’ll see."
She was convinced this plan would work. Tonight, she’d surely earn her first pot of gold.
Gu Ran watched the live chat’s gift notifications with bated breath.
But after asking, "So, do you wanna see?" she noticed something odd—the previously lively chat, which had been clamoring for her to turn off the filters, suddenly… froze?
Then, as if orchestrated, the chat exploded again, this time in eerie unison, all typing the same line:
[Then we’d rather not see.]
Gu Ran: "……?"
Other messages followed:
[We’re nerds, but we’re not stupid.]
[Damn, new streamers these days really think we’re easy marks, huh? Do we look like walking ATMs?]
[Anyone who needs this many filters to show their face is obviously hiding something. And now we have to pay to see how bad it is?]
[Exactly! Bros, stand united! Don’t let her think our money grows on trees!]
[Trust me, anyone who dares call themselves ‘Pawcat’s #1 Beauty’ is either a dude in drag or a nightmare. I’ll bet my head on it—if I’m wrong, I’ll eat crap.]
[+1 on eating crap.]
[Don’t act like we’re desperate. We’ve got pride, you know.]
[Remember that dude who dropped 100k on ‘Super Sweet Lolita’ only to find out it was a hairy dude? Lesson learned!]
Gu Ran stared at the chat, dumbfounded. This was not the reaction she’d anticipated.
What was she supposed to do now?
The rapid-fire chat boosted the stream’s visibility, drawing in more curious onlookers. The viewer count soon surpassed 3,000.
For a second, Gu Ran considered just turning off the filters outright.
But then she spotted another message:
[The streamer said: ‘Firework Cannon’ = stand up to prove not a cross-dresser, ‘Love’s Guardian’ = disable two filters, ‘Romantic Fireworks’ = disable four, ‘World Carnival’ = all filters off.]
[Yep, screenshot saved! Don’t worry, guys, at this rate, we’ll see her real face in a few decades LOL.]
[If you break your promise, we’ll drag you on the forums and rally 10k trolls to flame you.]
[Not falling for it, neener neener.]
[Y’all are savages. The pandas are starving because you’ve stolen all their bamboo.]
Gu Ran wanted to cry at the sheer audacity of these trolls.
She’d dug her own grave—every word was now documented.
And that threat about "10k trolls" made her retract the hand hovering over the filter settings.
Terrifying.
But she wasn’t lying!
After some deliberation, Gu Ran hatched a plan.
If no one would gift her, why not gift herself?
The money would just cycle back into her account—zero net loss.
Easy peasy.
Eyeing the 3,000+ viewers, Gu Ran grabbed her tablet, swiftly registered a burner account, and got to work.
Step one: Prove she wasn’t a cross-dresser.
She’d promised to stand up if someone sent a "Firework Cannon" (1000 Pawcoins = 100 RMB).
Since the money would boomerang back to her, Gu Ran—though broke—topped up 100 RMB without hesitation.
Then, under the alias "GuRan’sBrainlessFan," she entered her own stream and sent the gift.
A firework animation burst across the screen:
"User ‘GuRan’sBrainlessFan’ gifted ‘Pawcat’s #1 Beauty’ a Firework Cannon."
Gu Ran feigned shock and excitement, seizing the chance to deliver her rehearsed thank-you line: "Thank you, ‘GuRan’sBrainlessFan,’ for the Firework Cannon! Mwah, love you~"
Then, true to her word, she announced, "Since someone sent a Firework Cannon, I’ll stand up to prove I’m not a cross-dresser."
Gu Ran had as much confidence in her figure as her face—curves in all the right places, a C-cup, slender waist, and porcelain skin that even Ji Shiyu, who’d seen countless starlets, couldn’t resist.
She wore an oversized T-shirt and shorts today, hiding her silhouette, but her legs—long, toned, and unmistakably feminine—were on full display.
After her spiel, Gu Ran stood, stepped back to reveal her full frame, and smiled, ready to declare victory.
Until she saw herself on screen.
???
Since when did live-stream filters also edit legs?!
Eighteen-tier beauty filters came with eighteen-tier body sculpting.
Her once-prided legs now stretched inhumanly thin and elongated on screen, her pink T-shirt making her resemble a flamingo on stilts.
The chat erupted:
[Pawcat’s #1 Beauty is fighting for her life to prove she’s female LOLOL]
[How does someone’s filter game go this wrong?!]
[Hey ‘GuRan’sBrainlessFan,’ you happy with this view? HAHAHA]
[This might not be the most delusional streamer I’ve seen, but it’s definitely the most hilarious trainwreck.]
[NGL, this level of editing? I’d still smash.]
[Drop the ‘NGL’—you absolutely would!]
[Holy shit, I kinda wanna follow just to see what else she’ll mess up!]
[Same! This is peak comedy—watching her fail to scam the scammers!]
[I’m wheezing.]
Gu Ran nearly choked on her own rage at the sea of "LMAOs." Another flop.
But at least her 100 RMB wasn’t wasted—it was her own money, after all.
Next, she’d use credit to gift herself the priciest "Pawcat Carnival," then finally kill the filters.
When she opened her account and saw the glaring message: "Withdrawable amount this month: 50 yuan," Gu Ran froze.
Where was the money? Her money?
What about the other fifty? Wasn’t a virtual "gift firework" supposed to be worth a hundred?
To Gu Ran at this moment, that missing fifty yuan was an astronomical sum—an absolute fortune. Her hands trembled as she frantically searched for the lost amount, only to finally spot a line of fine print on the app’s withdrawal page.
Fifty-fifty split.
So that was it.
With a deafening "boom," the sky seemed to collapse over Gu Ran’s head the instant she read those six words: "Revenue split fifty-fifty."
She had streamed all night, been dragged on forums, had three thousand viewers—and earned nothing. She’d even gifted herself, only to end up fifty yuan in the hole.
Staring at the barrage of laughing "hahaha" comments still rolling in her live chat, Gu Ran’s eyes welled up. She flung herself onto the bed, utterly defeated.
She was done.
