YABE - 15

The heat of September in the south hadn’t yet faded, and the sky was a pure, cloudless blue.

Wen Siyu, wearing pajamas and a bunny-eared headband, sat cross-legged in her dorm room, sucking on a lollipop as she streamed live while basking in the cool air conditioning.

As always, the camera was pointed at her desk, and the familiar Summoner’s Rift glowed on her computer screen. The girl’s tone had returned to its usual carefree, unrestrained, and chaotic banter-filled state.

After disappearing for a month, fans flooded into her livestream in droves, their barrage of comments so dense it was almost overwhelming. While waiting for her queue to pop, Wen Siyu casually picked out a few to respond to.

“If I wasn’t around this past month? I went to do an internship, and I even posted on Weibo occasionally. You there—yes, you—if you didn’t follow my Weibo, I suspect you’re a fake fan.”

“Why didn’t I stream last month? Obviously, because I ran out of money. Don’t ask—I’m broke. This month, I might not even have enough to eat. If any of you want to send me snacks, let me know.”

“What did I do during my internship? Of course I can’t say—it’s classified. As part of Shandong Lanxiang Special Forces Technician Internship, we have to sign confidentiality agreements.”

“What do you guys want me to play? Orianna? Ahri? Eh, I don’t feel like playing assassins today. How about Lucian? Do you guys want to see Obama mid-lane?”

“What do you mean by ‘trying to seduce us to death’? Mid-lane Obama is perfectly stable, okay? I’ve even played Lee Sin as AD carry before—0/15/4, my ultimate trash-tier hero. Absolute chaos.”

Wen Siyu crunched on her lollipop, spewing endless trash talk. This was her comfort zone—a place where she could brag without a care in the world.

“By the way, let me secretly tell you something.” She locked in Lucian and giggled mischievously. “That game I played using SEER’s account. Hehehe.”

[SEER just entered the livestream—you probably won’t survive three seconds.]

[Already dead fish.]

[Only died 15 times though, and there were still 4 assists. For my wife Four Imperial, that’s practically god-tier performance!]

[When are you uploading your gameplay videos? I’ll die without them.]

“Videos? Well, school just started, so I’ve been busy. You’ll have to wait a bit longer.” She tossed the lollipop stick into the trash can beside her, left the fountain, and charged straight toward mid-lane without looking back.

It had been three days since Wen Siyu returned to school and a full week since she quietly left the set of Never Look Back .

She kept her departure extremely low-key, only informing Director Li, the assistant director, and a few crew members. She exchanged WeChat contacts with a couple of girls she got along well with, then slipped away silently.

On the day she left, Jiang Xu—who had been showing up nearly every single day without fail—was absent from the set.

Well, after all, she was just a tiny intern director’s assistant.

Wen Siyu remembered the morning a week ago when the man stood coldly by her bedside, holding a bowl of hangover soup, his deep brown eyes calmly watching her.

Meanwhile, her Lucian mercilessly poked at the enemy mid-laner with AQAA, timing his E perfectly to dash in for auto-attacks followed by a Q, securing a clean solo kill.

Throughout the match, the girl played aggressively and ruthlessly. Getting first blood felt fantastic; as an AD carry in mid-lane, she completely suppressed the enemy laner. Every time they showed their face, they died. If they stayed hidden, she pushed towers and demolished them anyway—it was utterly miserable for the opposing team.

Twenty minutes later, the enemy surrendered. By then, all three of their inhibitor turrets had already fallen, and Lucian was tearing through the base.

Her final score: 16 kills, 1 death—the one death being from her own overconfidence.

After finishing the game, Wen Siyu suddenly didn’t feel like playing anymore. After exchanging a few more playful words with her fans, she turned off the livestream and logged into her private Weibo account.

She began to space out.

Her last post on this account was from a month ago.

Ever since she joined the production and met him in person, she hadn’t touched this account again.

After some thought, she logged out and switched to her main Weibo account.

Her main account often received a flood of private messages. Wen Siyu skimmed through them, replied to a few, then closed the page to watch a movie.

Having grown accustomed to the bustling life on set, the slower pace of school life felt somewhat disorienting. Classes, streaming, and movies filled her days, and after a week of this routine, her fans finally noticed something was off.

This little fangirl, who would always mention her idol Jiang Xu at the end of every stream, hadn’t uttered his name in ages.

The first to notice was Gu Yao.

On the third day of Wen Siyu’s return to streaming, Gu Yao immediately sensed something amiss.

This time, she abandoned WeChat altogether and called directly.

“Did something happen between you and Jiang Xu?”

Wen Siyu was baffled by the sudden question. “What do you mean, ‘something’?”

“Cut the crap and talk straight,” Gu Yao said sternly. “Are you saying Jiang Xu actually hooked up with a fan?”

“…”

Wen Siyu fell silent.

Gu Yao: “???”

With a long sigh, Wen Siyu half-jokingly, half-seriously lamented: “I wish he really had.”

Gu Yao exclaimed, “Holy sh*t!” and hung up.

That afternoon, after finishing another round of bragging and turning off her stream, Wen Siyu prepared to head to the supermarket for snacks. Just as she stepped out of the school gate, she saw a woman in a red dress strutting toward her in towering heels, drawing countless stares.

Gu Yao, wearing bold red lipstick, stopped in front of her, leaned down, and asked concernedly: “Did you get rejected after hitting on someone?”

Wen Siyu nearly choked on her saliva and quickly pulled the woman away from prying eyes, leading her off campus.

They found a café and chose a discreet corner for their conversation. Gu Yao crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, beginning her interrogation: “Spill it.”

Wen Siyu held her taro milk tea and sighed.

“Go ahead.”

“The day before I left the production, it happened to be the male lead’s wrap-up party.” Wen Siyu paused, then continued: “Then I… drank a bit.”

Gu Yao’s eyebrow shot up.

“A senior crew member took care of me, and he drove us back to the hotel.”

“That’s it?” Gu Yao clearly didn’t believe her.

“Then I don’t remember anything.” Wen Siyu blinked innocently.

“Tell the truth.”

“I really don’t remember. The last thing I recall is lying down in my own room…” Wen Siyu slowly searched for the right words. “But when I woke up the next morning, I was in his bed…”

Gu Yao couldn’t help but curse under her breath. Her palm slammed onto the table as she leaned forward, eyes wide: “Jiang Xu actually f*cked a fan???!!!”

Wen Siyu crumpled a napkin and threw it at her, rolling her eyes: “You’re the one sleeping with fans—he slept on the couch, alright?”

Gu Yao waved dismissively, seemingly uninterested in that detail. Urgently, she pressed: “Go on, go on.”

“He brought me a bowl of hangover soup and said, ‘You’re awake.’ I responded, and then I asked why I was in his room. He said that after drinking, I clung to his blanket, claiming it was softer than mine, and refused to let go. Eventually, I passed out, and he had no choice but to—”

She was cut off mid-sentence.

“Excuse me, miss, can you stop for a second? I didn’t f*cking ask for a detailed account of your lovey-dovey moments.” Gu Yao rolled her eyes. “Just tell me what made you lose interest in your idol.”

“I haven’t lost interest in him.”

“Fine, fine, you haven’t.” Gu Yao waved her hand, cleared her throat dramatically, and mimicked holding a microphone, extending it toward her. “Miss Wen, tell us your story.”

Wen Siyu let out a soft “Oh” and fell silent.

Gu Yao: “? Speak up.”

Expressionless, Wen Siyu replied: “Every word he says to me feels like flirting. If you don’t let me talk about it, then I have nothing to say.”

“…”

Gu Yao wanted to splash her coffee in Wen Siyu’s face.

Wen Siyu smirked, scooped out a tapioca pearl with her spoon, popped it into her mouth, and continued: “Anyway, later, I think my brain must’ve short-circuited. I told him I was starting school soon and leaving, and I asked if he’d come see me off.”

“And then? Did he say he wouldn’t come?”

“He didn’t say anything for a long time. I got nervous and ran away.”

“And then?”

“That’s it. Then he didn’t come.” Wen Siyu shrugged, pursing her lips. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have assumed things.”

That morning, the weather had been too good, the sunlight too bright, and the hangover soup in the man’s hands too hot. It seared her heart, igniting flames that seemed to leap uncontrollably upward.

Jiang Xu stood by her bedside, his back to the window, silhouetted against the light.

“Awake?” His voice was low, rich with magnetism, evoking the faintest trace of unrealistic, girlish fantasies.

Now, looking back…

It was nothing but a daydream.