Gu Ran's first livestream ended with her tearfully thanking the barrage of "hahahaha" comments on screen after suffering the devastating loss of fifty yuan.
She took a shower under the small hotel's perpetually fluctuating hot-and-cold water, the steam seemingly soothing some of the heartache from losing that fifty yuan.
Just past midnight, Gu Ran turned off the lights and curled up in bed, pulling the blanket over herself. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could make out the outlines of the shabby furniture in the cheap hotel. The thin walls couldn't block out the loud TV from next door—too noisy. As a single woman staying in a budget hotel, she didn't dare knock on her neighbor's door to ask them to turn it down. In the end, she just rolled over and buried her head under the covers.
Then she began replaying her disastrous first livestream in her mind.
From the first hour with zero viewers to suddenly going viral on forums for using excessive beauty filters, which brought in her first wave of audience.
Thinking back to those forum comments mocking how her filters were so thick even her own mother wouldn't recognize her, Gu Ran's nose finally stung with unshed tears in the quiet of night.
Of course her mother wouldn't recognize her.
Her mother didn't even know—or care—what she looked like.
Gu Ran's parents divorced when she was very young. Her mother didn't want custody, so for as long as she could remember, she had lived with her father.
But being raised by a single parent wasn't so bad. Gu Ran had a happy childhood. Her father never remarried—he would braid her hair into pretty styles and buy her fluffy princess dresses.
When Gu Ran was in middle school, her father got hired as a driver for the Ji family.
The Ji family held immense influence throughout City A. Even as just a driver's daughter, Gu Ran got to attend an elite school that money couldn't buy into—a school that gathered nearly all the children of City A's wealthy and powerful families.
Every parent wanted their child to go to a good school. Gu Ran knew how hard her father had worked to get her enrolled there. Every week, under her father's hopeful gaze, she would smile and say she was adjusting well.
But that wasn't true.
Her classmates all knew she was the driver's daughter. They isolated her, mocked her. No one wanted to be her friend; no one would talk to her.
Once, someone threw her backpack into a janitor's dirty mop bucket. She silently went to retrieve it and happened to pass by a group of older boys laughing together.
One of them stopped and pointed at her, saying to the boy beside him, "Ah Yu, isn't that your family driver's daughter?"
Gu Ran looked up and saw Ji Shiyu for the first time.
She had only heard about Ji Shiyu through classmates' gossip—how the girls would gush over him with starry-eyed admiration.
He gave her a brief, indifferent glance, his entire demeanor exuding an untouchable nobility that made it clear they were from different worlds, and said, "How would I know?"
His friend slung an arm over his shoulder, noticing Gu Ran's still-dripping backpack. "She's technically part of the Ji household. Aren't you going to do something about people bullying her?"
Ji Shiyu glanced at the ruined backpack again but said nothing before walking away.
Still, Gu Ran noticed a difference afterward. While no one suddenly wanted to befriend her, at least her desk no longer had bugs planted in it, her backpack wasn't thrown into fountains, and her textbooks weren't scribbled over with ink.
Eventually, she grew used to having no friends. Every afternoon, she would sneak to a secluded corner of the small garden outside the basketball court and secretly watch the games.
Ji Shiyu was an excellent player.
She watched quietly from afar, never daring to approach. Then one day, she saw Ji Shiyu accept a bottle of water from a girl after a game.
Word spread quickly through the school.
The girl was surnamed Qin—Qin Wenyi. Rumor had it she was originally an orphan, adopted by the Qin family, who treated her very well. Now that she was seen with Ji Shiyu, even the haughtiest girls started treating her with respect.
When Gu Ran saw Ji Shiyu walking with Qin Wenyi, the usual cold detachment around him seemed to soften slightly in her presence...
Gu Ran's eyes flew open in the dark, suddenly realizing she had been thinking about Ji Shiyu again—and this time, Qin Wenyi had crept into her thoughts too.
She shook her head violently to banish them both, only to be confronted once more by the painful memory of losing fifty yuan in her livestream.
Ugh...
Remembering her past life of extravagance, Gu Ran clutched the blanket and let out a long sigh.
The more she thought about it, the more she realized she had been the exact kind of character despised in novels and films—the type who "got lucky and immediately became insufferable," flaunting whatever she lacked before.
Back when she was poor and powerless, she had reveled in rubbing her newfound wealth in everyone's faces after getting involved with Ji Shiyu, especially enjoying how it infuriated her shallow former classmates.
But pride always comes before a fall.
She had thought nothing could possibly bring her down—until Qin Wenyi returned. Who could have guessed she wasn't actually dead? Fake deaths were a thing? Just when Gu Ran was at her most arrogant, Qin Wenyi had to reappear right on cue.
Qin Wenyi probably didn't even come back for some rich-family power struggle. No, she must have returned specifically to ruin Gu Ran's life.
Damn it!
Grumbling, Gu Ran flipped over and tried to console herself. It wasn't like she'd never been poor before—she'd spent far more years in poverty than in luxury. So what if she couldn't afford five-star hotels? Budget hotels had their own charm, like the daily battle of wits against cockroaches.
And the owner had even given her a discount—plus a free bottle of insecticide!
Gu Ran eventually fell asleep and woke up the next day ready to face another "energetic" day.
After last night's train wreck of a livestream that ended with her losing fifty yuan, Gu Ran seriously reconsidered her career path as a streamer.
She had been way too naive.
With a pained grimace, she opened her Cat Paw app, preparing to withdraw the remaining fifty yuan.
As she navigated to her profile page, her eyes drifted upward—and froze at a number displayed there.
What the...?
Beside her username, "Cat Paw's #1 Beauty," the follower count read: 88,339.
Gu Ran's first reaction was disbelief. She swallowed hard and tapped the number.
The follower list popped up—88,339 IDs neatly lined up under "Cat Paw's #1 Beauty."
She scrolled down several times without reaching the bottom. After pinching her thigh to confirm this wasn't a dream, her eyes widened in shock.
What happened? Did someone buy her followers? How did she gain over 80,000 followers overnight? Her livestream had been a disaster! She'd been ruthlessly mocked!
And the peak viewership last night was only around 3,000!
Baffled, Gu Ran frantically refreshed the still-climbing follower count, then remembered the forum post that had originally mocked her.
She switched to the forums—only to find today's trending hot posts were completely different.
The post had turned into: "Does everyone remember last night's so-called 'Pawcat's No.1 Beauty'? Went to check it out and the whole thing was a hilarious trainwreck LOLOLOLOL."
Gu Ran, the very "Pawcat's No.1 Beauty" in question, clicked on the thread with trembling fingers.
Then she discovered that the latter half of her livestream had been screen-recorded and uploaded.
The thread's OP had even made GIFs of the most ridiculous moments—
There she was, boldly claiming she was "quite good-looking" while wearing a level-18 beauty filter so extreme even her own mother wouldn’t recognize her.
The barrage of comments below unanimously echoed Lu Yu’s iconic line: ["Really? I don’t believe it."]
Some tried to trick her into turning off the filter for free, since it wouldn’t cost them anything.
Unexpectedly, this "No.1 Beauty" was sharp enough to notice the skepticism and demands to disable the filter. Thinking herself clever, she declared, "If you all want to see me without the filter, you’ll have to send enough gifts first."
She assumed she’d rake in the cash effortlessly, but the comments instantly shifted to: ["Then we’re not watching."]
After all, no one had spent a dime.
Then, out of nowhere, someone with the obviously questionable username "I’m Gu Ran’s Brainless Fan" actually sent her a 100-yuan virtual firework gift. Overjoyed, she stood up to prove she wasn’t a cross-dressing man—only for the leg-lengthening filter to distort her into a gangly flamingo.
It was pure slapstick comedy.
The trauma from the "Ultra-Sweet Lolita" incident (where the "cute little girl" turned out to be a bearded man) still lingered, leaving viewers wary. Having been fooled once, they weren’t about to fall for another "Pawcat’s No.1 Beauty." For the first time, instead of watching a streamer scam their audience, they witnessed the audience outsmarting the streamer—a clueless newbie trying (and failing spectacularly) to swindle lonely hearts out of their money. The whole stream was a riot, like watching cops mess with a rookie phone scammer.
The sheer satisfaction of dodging every trick was euphoric!
This was the most triumphant comeback for Pawcat’s male users since the "Ultra-Sweet Lolita" debacle!
Replies poured in:
6th floor: ["HAHAHAHA I’m wheezing"]
17th floor: ["OMG why is this so funny"]
94th floor: ["Since when are scammers this hilarious?!"
203rd floor: ["I believe you… (not really)"]
300th floor: ["Is she streaming again tonight? I need to see this trainwreck LOL"]
377th floor: ["+1, no ulterior motives—just chasing that sweet, sweet schadenfreude after getting duped by ‘Ultra-Sweet Lolita’"]
500th floor: ["ALERT! Remember ‘Ultra-Sweet Lolita’! Anyone can call themselves a beauty online—DO NOT gift her to turn off the filter! This is 100% a scam by a woman who’s definitely not pretty (let’s be real). Enjoy the show, but NO GIFTS! Sound off below if you understand!"]
The replies then devolved into a military-style roll call:
["1st here, understood!"]
["2nd here, understood!"]
["nth here, understood!"]
...
The post went viral, picked up by influencers who reposted it on Weibo, Douyin, and Kuaishou. The engagement skyrocketed, drawing hordes of new users to Pawcat just to revel in the schadenfreude of watching a scammer get scammed.
Finally, Gu Ran understood why she’d suddenly gained 80,000 followers.
"..."
Do these people have some kind of twisted fetish?!
She took a deep breath, realizing how brutal the path of a female streamer could be.
Maybe she should just quit.
But staring at her 80,000+ followers—even if they were only there for the drama—she hesitated.
Gaining 80,000 followers overnight was unimaginable for someone whose viewer count had flatlined at zero when she first started.
Maybe she should stream without filters this time?
But she’d already set her terms yesterday: gifts of certain tiers would lower the filter, and only the most expensive "Pawcat Ferris Wheel" would remove it entirely.
And that declaration had been screen-recorded. They’d threatened to drag her on the forums and rally 10,000 trolls to flame her if she backed out.
Gu Ran shuddered at the mental image of 10,000 hateful comments flooding her stream.
After a day of agonizing over her 80,000 "fans," she finally made up her mind.
Traffic and followers were hard to come by. Tonight, she’d stream again, clinging to her dream of becoming a sultry, coquettish live hostess.
Sure, everyone claimed they wouldn’t gift her… but what if there was an outlier?
At 8 PM, Gu Ran dolled herself up even more meticulously than yesterday, slipping into a 40-yuan dress from a street vendor and swiping on a 30-yuan domestic lipstick from Taobao. She propped up her phone and faced the camera again.
Once adjusted, filter settings defaulted to their previous state, so when she went live, she was once again the unrecognizable, hyper-filtered internet "beauty."
The only difference? This time, viewers trickled in immediately.
["She’s live! Someone notify the boys—No.1 Beauty is back!"]
["Here for my daily dose of schadenfreude LOL"]
["Today’s cross-dressing arc is gonna be wild!"]
Gu Ran: "..."
She ignored the comments and followed the standard beauty-streamer script.
"Hello everyone, I’m… Pawcat’s No.1 Beauty, Ranran."
"Any song requests? I’ll sing for you all."
"If you enjoy it, feel free to send small gifts~"
She queued up a bubbly love song and powered through it despite the mocking comments. Her voice was naturally sweet and delicate, perfect for sugary pop tunes.
Comments: ["NGL, she kinda sounds good…"]
["Bro, don’t fall for it! Voice changers! Sound cards!"]
["‘Ultra-Sweet Lolita’ was a dude using a voice modulator. Sound cards can do anything."]
["Damn, almost got me. Thanks for the save, bros."]
Gu Ran: "..."
Even singing got her accused of using tech tricks—and still, not a single cent earned. Her temples throbbed.
Just as she was about to call it quits, a notification popped up on her streamer dashboard:
"Streamer ‘MewMew’ has invited you to a PK battle. Accept or Decline?"
PK battles were a staple of livestreaming—a high-stakes, short-lived duel where two streamers shared the screen and rallied their fans to gift them. The one with more gifts (and thus higher "support points") won, while the loser faced a humiliating penalty.
Gu Ran had watched other streamers do PKs, but this was her first invitation.
Who was "MewMew"?
Gu Ran lowered her head and glanced at the iPad—the profile picture was quite pretty. Then she checked the follower count: 4.38 million.
At the sight of Meng Miaomiao’s follower count, Gu Ran’s mouth fell open in shock.
4.38 million followers—on Cat’s Paw, that absolutely qualified as a top-tier streamer.
A streamer that big wanted to connect with her for a PK battle?
Gu Ran bit her lip. She knew the rules of PK battles—small streamers almost never got matched with big ones, and for a major streamer to actively seek out someone with a fraction of their followers was practically unheard of.
Suddenly getting a PK invite from a streamer with over four million followers, no matter the reason, was something Gu Ran couldn’t bring herself to refuse.
She decisively tapped "Accept PK."
Then the screen split into two—Gu Ran on the left, Meng Miaomiao on the right.
Gu Ran felt a little nervous but smiled and greeted her, "Hello, Miaomiao."
Meng Miaomiao looked about the same as her profile picture. Though she also used filters, compared to the "TikTok’s #1 Beauty" beside her with maxed-out beauty settings, she appeared refreshingly natural—like a celestial maiden descended from the heavens.
Meng Miaomiao’s setup, from the background to the equipment, was clearly far more professional than Gu Ran’s. She smiled sweetly and innocently, "Hi, hi!"
Before the PK officially began, they had to decide the punishment for the loser.
Before Gu Ran could speak, Meng Miaomiao put on an apologetic expression, "Sis, I just made a bet with the brothers in my livestream—the punishment for the next PK is turning off the beauty filter. I hope you don’t mind."
Gu Ran initially felt a little irked by the way Meng Miaomiao called her "sis" in that cloyingly sweet tone, but when she heard "the loser turns off the beauty filter," her eyebrows suddenly furrowed.
Wait—this was actually a good thing?
A chance to turn off the beauty filter without having to self-promote or endure thousands of insults?
Was Meng Miaomiao heaven-sent to help her?
Gu Ran agreed without hesitation, "Sure, sounds good."
Meng Miaomiao was momentarily taken aback, clearly not expecting the so-called "Cat’s Paw #1 Beauty" to agree so readily. But she quickly recovered, flashing her signature "straight-guy slayer" smile.
The PK timer started.
With 4.38 million followers under her belt, top Cat’s Paw streamer Meng Miaomiao blew a sweet kiss to the "brothers" in her livestream, then glanced sideways at her opponent—the one who dared to call herself "Cat’s Paw #1 Beauty" while hiding behind maxed-out beauty filters.
She scoffed inwardly.
The streamer community had been buzzing all day about a newbie who’d branded herself "Cat’s Paw #1 Beauty" the night before. Though she’d been roasted twice on forums right after her debut, the backlash had sparked massive discussion—not only blowing up on Cat’s Paw but also spreading to Weibo, Douyin, Kuaishou, and Douban via memes and jokes. It was a minor breakout moment.
"Breaking out" meant going viral beyond Cat’s Paw, reaching audiences on other platforms—something every streamer dreamed of.
Meng Miaomiao had been streaming for over a year, mastering the art of coyness and cuteness, building a "pure yet seductive straight-guy slayer" persona. She was most confident in her looks, often posting photos of her five-hour "no-makeup makeup" looks as "bare-faced" selfies, with fans gushing, "Miaomiao is so gorgeous!"
Even non-fans on Cat’s Paw knew of her, their first impression being that she was the platform’s most naturally beautiful streamer—one who could withstand the scrutiny of going filter-free.
Meng Miaomiao had long held the title of "Cat’s Paw #1 Goddess."
She’d been trying to market this title to break out beyond the platform, but her efforts had yielded little interest from outsiders.
What really stung was that after all her failed attempts, this "Cat’s Paw #1 Beauty"—someone hiding behind extreme filters and encroaching on her title—had somehow managed it overnight. Even if it was just for the spectacle, she’d gained 80,000 new followers in a single night.
Eighty thousand active followers in one night—for any Cat’s Paw streamer, that was a staggering leap worth celebrating.
Meng Miaomiao couldn’t swallow this injustice. After discussing with her streaming agent, she’d decided to initiate this PK battle tonight.
The strategy was simple: since "Cat’s Paw #1 Beauty" had the spotlight, she, the "Cat’s Paw #1 Goddess," would ride the wave—then crush her underfoot.
The outcome of their PK was practically a foregone conclusion.
That’s why Meng Miaomiao had proposed the punishment: the loser turns off the beauty filter.
It didn’t take a genius to guess how unflattering "Cat’s Paw #1 Beauty" must look if she needed maxed-out filters to face the camera.
Once she lost and revealed her true face, the contrast would make Meng Miaomiao look like an absolute angel.
Marketing beauty alone wasn’t enough—you needed a foil. With their side-by-side comparison shots spread across forums, she could ride this wave straight to breakout fame.
With that in mind, Meng Miaomiao began sweetly urging her "brothers" to send gifts.
On the other side, Gu Ran watched the lively scene in Meng Miaomiao’s stream.
But the liveliness wasn’t hers.
The moment her audience realized she’d been matched with top streamer Meng Miaomiao, her chat exploded with:
[Holy shit!]
[Meng Miaomiao—THE Meng Miaomiao?!]
[#1 Beauty actually got matched with Miaomiao?!]
Once the PK began, Gu Ran’s chat became a flood of:
[MY GODDESS AHHHH SORRY I WASN’T IN YOUR STREAM TONIGHT]
[I’ve seen her no-filter pics—she’s unreal.]
[AHHHHH MIAOMIAO IS SO BEAUTIFUL PRPRPRPR]
[Truly the #1 Goddess—lives up to the hype!]
[Trust me, she’s not just pretty—her figure is insane! Pure yet seductive, absolute perfection!]
Gu Ran stared at the endless stream of Meng Miaomiao worship in her own chat: "..."
The PK screen displayed red and blue bars representing each streamer’s support levels. The moment the battle began, Meng Miaomiao’s fans showered her with gifts, while Gu Ran’s side showed no resistance—her blue bar was instantly crushed into invisibility by Meng Miaomiao’s red, leaving only a symbolic dot.
Pathetic.
As "Cat’s Paw #1 Beauty," Gu Ran received zero gifts.
First, everyone had agreed not to spend money on streamers who relied on extreme filters. Second, they were all curious to see if "Cat’s Paw #1 Beauty" would turn out to be some bearded troll once the filters were off—so they were happy to freeload and watch her lose to Meng Miaomiao.
When the three-minute PK ended, Meng Miaomiao’s support bar was maxed out. Gu Ran’s? Zero.
Because she hadn’t received a single gift during the battle.
The system declared: "Cat’s Paw #1 Beauty" lost the PK.
Meng Miaomiao, victorious in a battle with a predetermined outcome, gazed at her opponent’s face—still obscured by heavy filters—now seemingly a little dejected.
She gave an understanding smile and said, "Sister, it's really okay if you don’t want to turn off the filter. Honestly."
Then, in a soft voice, she asked her own livestream fans, "Does anyone have some 'medical fees' to spare? Could you give the opposing host a little something?"
"Medical fees" referred to the practice where, after a PK battle between two streamers, if the result was too one-sided, the winning host’s fans would send small gifts to the losing side as a consolation—hence the term "medical fees."
Fans: [Aww, our Meow Meow is so kind!]
[Meow Meow is beautiful inside and out!]
Gu Ran noticed that after Meow Meow’s request, a few fans from her livestream actually came over and sent her some small gifts—a few one-yuan "roses" and ten-yuan "flower wreaths."
So today’s livestream wasn’t a total loss after all. At least there was some income?
As Gu Ran thought this, the "PK Moment" above her head transitioned into "Punishment Time."
