Gu Ran looked at the account "I'm Gu Ran's Brain-Damaged Fan" that she had just thrown into the blacklist and finally relaxed with a sigh.
The viewers in the live stream, hearing the cute sound effect "whoosh" that the host had added, finally processed what had just happened.
【???】
【Brothers, did I hear that right?】
【She said she only accepts lollipop roses under ten bucks, and no account can accumulate more than a hundred in tips, or they’ll be blacklisted?】
【That’s what I heard too.】
Just as everyone was baffled, unable to believe their ears, they saw the "Cat Paw Platform’s #1 Beauty" Gu Ran cheerfully read out an ID.
"Thank you 'Pepsi is Eternal' for the lollipop~"
A lollipop cost ten Cat Coins—equivalent to one yuan in real money.
The audience: "..."
This is the complete opposite of how it should be!
In an era where female streamers coo and beg for gifts daily, demanding Porsches and Dream Castles, where top 100 spenders get into exclusive fan groups and top 10 get private WeChat access, where "big brothers" break their banks just to make a host smile, and where hosts throw tantrums if they lose a PK or don’t get enough gifts—here was someone who outright banned tips over a hundred yuan? Violators get blacklisted?
Just moments ago, a "brain-damaged fan" had sent a 200-yuan shaved ice machine and was immediately tossed into the blacklist.
Unbelievable.
The atmosphere on Cat Paw had been strange lately. The relationship between streamers and fans should always be equal—no one forces fans to watch or send gifts. Small streamers relying on tips is understandable, but big streamers, already raking in cash from platform contracts and sponsorships, still obsessively eye their fans' wallets, mastering the art of fandom PUA. Every stream feels like you’re not welcome unless you pay up, losing a PK means you’re all useless, and small gifts are mocked as "too embarrassing to even show."
People had long been fed up with this culture of "how dare you send pocket change," "if you haven’t spent thousands, you don’t deserve to like me," and "get laughed at for not giving enough."
No one’s money grows on trees. Gifting should be voluntary, based on what each person can afford—those with money can tip, those without can just boost engagement. I can give willingly, but you can’t just reach into my wallet, punch me if I don’t comply, and call me "poor" on your way out.
Now, look at Gu Ran, the genuine "Cat Paw’s #1 Beauty," broadcasting from a shabby motel and pausing mid-stream to swat a cockroach.
Gu Ran spoke up again: "Honestly, no one hates money. Making this decision was... well..." She hesitated for two seconds, then admitted with a pained expression, "It hurts! A lot!"
Her face twisted in exaggerated agony: "So I hope more people will come to my streams. With enough viewers, I can make up for it in volume."
The audience took one look at her "cutting off her own flesh" expression and collectively blurted: Damn.
That mix of heartache and determination after banning expensive gifts was just too honest.
How could she be this adorable?!
Chat exploded:
【Damn! First time I’ve ever wanted to send a Porsche but the host won’t let me!】
【+1+1+1 I’m about to explode from restraint!】
【"Make up for it in volume" LOLOLOL】
【How’s the face of those who said Gu Ran was just after money? Stinging yet?】
【Too cute too cute let me bite youuu】
【Lollipop ×1 ×2 ×3…… ×n】
【Wuuu can’t we raise the limit? How about under 500?】
【Yeah! 1,000 max!】
Having moved past her grief, Gu Ran now radiated zen-like calm. Despite being broke, she acted like a millionaire with no desires: "The limit’s the limit. No changes."
"Thanks for the love. Next up, another song."
The viewer count in the top-right corner surged as newcomers flooded in.
...
Gu Ran streamed for nearly two more hours, then slept soundly, relieved she’d never appear in those "So-and-so spent their life savings tipping a streamer" news stories.
The next morning, she woke to a skyrocketing follower count and found her stream had been posted on forums again. Most found it amusing, but some accused her of "clout-chasing," "acting all high and mighty when you’re just a streamer," and "obviously fishing for bigger tips."
Gu Ran ignored the haters and checked her notifications. A red dot on the main screen signaled a system message.
She tapped it: Cat Paw Platform invites you to become an officially contracted streamer.
Before she could read the details, an unknown number called.
Unsure who it was, Gu Ran answered cautiously: "Hello?"
A warm male voice replied: "Is this the 'Cat Paw’s #1 Beauty'?"
It took her a second to remember that cringeworthy ID was her own. "Uh... who is this?"
"I’m Ding Ze, manager of Cat Paw’s streamer talent department. We’ve noticed your outstanding streaming performance and data and would like to invite you to join as an official Cat Paw streamer."
Gu Ran frowned. "How’d you get my number?"
Ding Ze: "It’s the one tied to your account. We can see registered numbers in the backend."
Gu Ran relaxed. "Oh."
"You’re offering me a contract?" she asked.
She’d only been streaming for a few days and knew little about the industry, aside from some streamers having "Contracted Streamer" banners on their profiles.
Gu Ran: "What’s in it for me?"
Ding Ze explained thoroughly: "After evaluating your recent streams and metrics, we see great potential. As a contracted streamer, you’d receive platform promotions, homepage exposure, higher gift revenue shares, and professional management. Oh, and based on your current follower count, we can also offer a guaranteed monthly salary."
Most of it went over her head—until "guaranteed monthly salary" snapped her to attention.
"A salary? How much?"
Ding Ze paused. Usually, people prioritized platform perks. Salary was an afterthought.
"Well, based on your follower count and engagement tier, we’d offer... 30,000 yuan per month."
Gu Ran’s jaw dropped at the figure. She was speechless.
Ding Ze could only ask again into the suddenly silent phone, "You're currently in City A, right? If you're interested in signing a contract, we can discuss it in person."
Gu Ran suddenly began searching for clothes: "Wait a second—where? I'll come right away!"
Ding Ze: "..."
...
The headquarters of Cat Paw Platform was located in City A's famous financial district.
When Gu Ran arrived by subway, she saw the towering XINBO Building, still dazzlingly prominent among the surrounding skyscrapers.
Ji Shiyu's domain. He was probably working there right now. Not long ago, she had fled from that very place in tears, humiliated.
Gu Ran pressed her lips into a slight frown and followed the address to Cat Paw's headquarters.
As soon as she stepped out of the elevator, she spotted the Cat Paw logo on the wall. The man named Ding Ze had arranged to meet her in the platform's dedicated guest café.
She saw someone with an employee badge hanging around his neck placing two cups of coffee on a table. Taking a deep breath, she approached. "Hello, are you Ding Ze? I'm... Cat Paw's Most Beautiful Girl."
When would she finally be able to change that embarrassing username? Ugh.
"Yes, that's me." The man set down the coffee and turned with a smile, only to freeze momentarily when he saw the girl standing beside him.
Gu Ran noticed his stunned reaction and tilted her head. "Hmm?"
...
Ten minutes later, Ding Ze stirred his coffee, feeling uncharacteristically nervous—a first for him during a new streamer signing.
As talent agents, they had seen all kinds of streamers—easily thousands, if not tens of thousands—with female streamers being no exception.
They were long accustomed to the way glamorous, camera-ready female streamers often looked completely ordinary once the filters came off. Even Cat Paw's reigning "Top Goddess," Meng Miaomiao, had been a letdown in person during the annual meetup—not exactly disappointing, but far from the ethereal beauty she appeared to be on screen.
These days, truly flawless girls flocked to the entertainment industry, while those who relied on filters turned to streaming. And once they gained some fame, most female streamers scrambled to break into showbiz anyway.
Ding Ze had seen Gu Ran’s unfiltered, bare-faced streams before and had been stunned then too. But afterward, he rationalized that she must just be one of those people who looked better on camera—some were average in person but photogenic.
Now, seeing her in the flesh, he realized she looked exactly like she did on stream—no, even better. With her figure and presence, she was a whole level above her livestream persona.
Clearing his throat, Ding Ze finally voiced the question burning in his mind: "Miss Gu... why do you want to be a streamer?"
Gu Ran hadn’t expected him to stir his coffee for so long just to ask that. Her expression turned complicated. "I... can’t?"
"No, no!" Ding Ze quickly backtracked.
Gu Ran: "I think it’s fun." She recalled the lively, hilarious comments from her daily streams.
Ding Ze looked up at her faintly smiling face—a face that was undeniably persuasive.
Cat Paw had plenty of big-name streamers, but only a handful had broken into mainstream popularity, all of them being goofy male gaming streamers. Female streamers barely made a ripple outside the platform. Cat Paw had tried promoting stars like Meng Miaomiao before, but the results were negligible—outside Cat Paw, they remained unknown.
For top streamers, platform gifts and donations were just pocket change. The real money came from brand deals, ads, and revenue-sharing from platform traffic.
Ding Ze took a deep breath as he studied Gu Ran’s face.
"Alright, Miss Gu, regarding your contract... there’s something I’d like to discuss about the base salary."
Gu Ran tensed. She’d come today specifically for the base salary and assumed he was about to haggle. "What is it?"
Ding Ze’s expression turned serious. "I’ll talk to management about increasing it for you."
Gu Ran: "...?"
The signing process took a few days. After reviewing the contract and finding no issues, Gu Ran signed her name.
Once the deal was sealed, Ding Ze added her on WeChat and, knowing she was a newcomer, sent her a trove of "streamer guides."
For the beauty-focused category, looks were naturally the priority. Beyond that, it was about engaging fans, keeping content fresh, and so on.
Gu Ran scratched her head over the guides and messaged Ding Ze: What exactly does "freshness" mean?
Ding Ze: It means... not letting fans feel like you’re repeating the same thing every day.
For example, staying trendy—singers should learn new songs, dancers should pick up new choreo. But the most basic thing? You should change your outfits.
He sent her screenshots from her streams—either that pink flamingo T-shirt or that bargain-bin skirt, the same two outfits on rotation.
Gu Ran pouted: Oh.
Now that she was earning money, she’d already been looking at rental apartments. Buying a few new clothes wasn’t unreasonable.
After browsing the fashion choices of other beauty streamers, she realized everyday outfits were in the minority. The rest were dominated by cosplay—game characters, Lolita dresses, hanfu, maid outfits, JK uniforms, and all sorts of elaborate getups.
Having once been surrounded by high-end fashion and designer gowns, Gu Ran now felt like she’d stumbled into a whole new world.
Why was that bunny-ear headband so adorable? Why did that Lolita dress look so cute? And this JK uniform was straight out of an anime!
She wanted to try them all. Biting her lip, she waffled between the bunny-ear cosplay set and the JK uniform before settling on the latter—a safer step away from everyday wear that wouldn’t require extra makeup.
After browsing Taobao, she excitedly placed an order for her favorite pink-and-purple JK set.
...
Nanchen Residence.
For the first time, Ji Shiyu came here without Gu Ran.
He couldn’t quite explain why. After showering, he noticed Gu Ran’s array of skincare bottles still lined up on the vanity.
The man frowned.
The golden canary’s cage felt unnervingly quiet without her.
Stepping out of the bathroom, he caught the familiar scent of the incense the housekeeper had lit. For a fleeting moment, in the play of light and shadow, he saw it again—the scene from that night when he’d walked in.
Gu Ran, tipsy, twirling barefoot on the plush white rug, champagne flute in hand, dancing with uncontainable joy.
Ji Shiyu stared, momentarily lost, before the vision dissolved.
No Gu Ran. Just empty space.
His eyes darkened.
Sitting on the bed, he checked his phone and saw a notification.
"Haixxx Official Store: Dear customer~ Your order for the Pink-Purple Lolita Super Cute Crop Top Pure Temptation Schoolgirl Short Skirt JK Uniform has shipped! Estimated delivery in 2-3 days. Please check back for updates!"
Ji Shiyu stared at the message, then remembered—Gu Ran had once whined about linking their Taobao accounts for "couple perks," insisting on flaunting their so-called intimacy even in online shopping.
So sometimes when Gu Ran bought things online, the shop would incidentally send the order details to him.
Ji Shiyu’s gaze fell on the name of the item Gu Ran had purchased. A man accustomed to financial reports found himself momentarily puzzled by the description.
He copied the string of words and pasted them into a shopping app to search.
When the image loaded, Ji Shiyu was slightly taken aback.
It was a Japanese-style schoolgirl uniform—a white blouse paired with a pleated miniskirt, the hem patterned in pink and purple checks, the collar adorned with a matching ribbon. In the model photos, the waist of the skirt looked impossibly tiny, barely the span of a hand, while the blouse was short and snug, accentuating curves far more than a typical school uniform would.
Gu Ran had actually bought something like this.
Staring at the product images, Ji Shiyu suddenly chuckled under his breath.
His mind began to wander—imagining Gu Ran in that outfit, her skin fair and delicate, her eyes glistening as she shyly showed herself to him.
