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Before Jiang Yan Zhou could speak again, Song Zhi recalled how she had vomited a few times in front of him due to gastrointestinal discomfort a few days ago.
Apparently, he thought she was pregnant.
Although she was spoiled and had many flaws, she still had her own principles.
Having made the decision to break up with him, she never once considered turning back.
Even though she still liked him in her heart.
The admiration that began in youth would become increasingly profound over time.
But one cannot stumble in the same place twice; otherwise, it would be too foolish.
Song Zhi straightforwardly told Jiang Yan Zhou: “I’m not pregnant.”
The night was silent, and there was no response from the other side for a long time.
Perhaps he was pondering the truth in her words, or maybe he was simply remaining silent.
After all, nine out of ten of her statements were false, with one being half-true and half-false.
Song Zhi sneered, as if reminding him: “Didn’t you always use protection when we were together?”
Song Zhi wasn’t someone with conservative views. In the heat of passion, Jiang Yan Zhou didn’t even want to walk the few steps from the living room to the bedroom, instead pinning her against the wall by her waist.
The drawer next to them was empty of condoms, leaving only an empty box.
Breathing heavily, her eyes clouded with desire, Song Zhi looked at him and said: “It’s okay to skip it occasionally.”
Jiang Yan Zhou hesitated for a moment but eventually got dressed, took his keys, and went out.
In his eyes, this kind of thing was like a mission that needed to be strictly followed according to the rules.
Every step was indispensable.
At that time, Song Zhi even entertained the thought of getting pregnant with his child so that she could stay by his side forever.
Such a foolish notion.
But no matter how foolish, Jiang Yan Zhou had never given her the chance.
Hearing such words from him now, Song Zhi found herself inexplicably amused.
She tried to remain calm and composed as she delivered her final words: “Jiang Yan Zhou, this is the first time I’m saying this, and it will also be the last. So I hope you listen carefully. My decision to break up with you isn’t because I’m being childish, nor am I waiting for you to come and comfort me, since you’ve never done that anyway. But I can let all that go, as I have long seen through your true nature. All I hope for now is that you’ll do me a favor and let me go. Let’s part ways with green mountains and clear waters, never to meet again.”
With that, she hung up the phone without giving Jiang Yan Zhou another chance to speak.
Because she wasn’t sure...
Whether she would soften her stance, and even less certain if she could hold back tears after hearing him say “okay.”
Years of affection couldn’t just disappear overnight.
She hated Jiang Yan Zhou, hated his taciturn nature.
People who are too deep in thought will never fully open up to you.
In this world, they don’t even trust themselves, so how can you expect them to trust you?
Song Zhi took a deep breath, the sharp pain in her chest particularly vivid.
But at the same time, it felt as if something had truly been let go.
________________________________________
Song Zhi couldn’t remember when she started paying extra attention to Jiang Yan Zhou.
She was like a peacock, unhesitant to show off her beauty.
Song Luo had asked her more than once: “Do you really think every man in the world likes you?”
Song Zhi shook her head in denial at the time.
When Song Luo breathed a sigh of relief, thinking his sister wasn’t completely hopeless,
She slowly smiled: “A small portion of men who prefer the same gender probably won’t be interested in me.”
... It seemed she was indeed beyond saving.
Since birth, she had been doted on by everyone. No matter where she went, she was always the center of attention.
The love letters piled up in her drawer each day were even thicker than her textbooks.
Her princess syndrome didn’t seem to come without reason.
But Jiang Yan Zhou was different from everyone else. He hardly talked to her, and when he did look at her, his gaze often landed on her legs.
Sometimes it was a short skirt, sometimes athletic shorts.
Those long, straight, slender legs were smooth and fair, with even her kneecaps exquisitely flawless.
Jiang Yan Zhou seemed particularly interested in her legs.
So naturally, Song Zhi assumed he was interested in her as well.
Because of Song Luo, Song Zhi and Jiang Yan Zhou often met.
She would sometimes ask him questions, and he would answer, but only to the extent of replying.
Whatever she asked, he answered.
For questions he didn’t want to answer, he remained silently quiet.
Then Song Zhi gradually realized that Jiang Yan Zhou didn’t have much interest in her.
He might not even consider her a friend.
To him, she was merely his friend’s younger sister.
Yet Song Zhi seemed to compete with him, often finding excuses to watch Song Luo play basketball, and coincidentally also checking out Jiang Yan Zhou.
Over time, Jiang Yan Zhou’s attitude towards her remained unchanged.
But Song Zhi fell into this without any guard.
From meeting him with a competitive mindset to meeting him out of longing.
This transition wasn’t too long, but it was enough for the dormant seed of love within that narcissistic and moody drama queen to blossom.
Song Zhi blinked rapidly, her red, heated eyes trying to hold back tears.
She needed to find something to do, so she wouldn’t see Jiang Yan Zhou’s annoying yet attractive face every time she closed her eyes.
She had to film tomorrow and didn’t want swollen eyes to delay the production schedule.
She picked up her phone and sent a message to Tang Xiao Yan.
[Song Zhi: Recommend some interesting movies and variety shows to me.]
Although Tang Xiao Yan owned a PR company, it was only in name. His private life involved flying around the world.
From exhibitions to fashion runways, busy spending money.
He had just booked a flight to Japan this afternoon and was probably still at the airport.
He quickly replied.
[Tang Xiao Yan: What type do you want to watch?]
[Song Zhi: Something cathartic, enjoyable, that lifts your mood.]
[Tang Xiao Yan: Is live streaming okay?]
[Song Zhi: Anything is fine.]
A minute later, he sent over a link.
[Tang Xiao Yan: I highly recommend this. Every time I watch it, my mood improves significantly.]
Sounds magical.
Curious, Song Zhi clicked on it, and to her surprise, there were over eight million viewers.
More than those big-name artists during their live streams.
The live stream’s title was simple and direct: Off Work at 5:30.
It was already 5:12 PM, so she had just caught the last bus.
Song Zhi sat on the sofa, pulling a cushion into her lap.
The live stream featured PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds (PUBG), which she didn’t understand. The barrage comments were overwhelming.
Some praised the player, while others were trolls hurling insults.
The screen showed a first-person view of the game, moving quite fast, making viewers dizzy.
Before Song Zhi could make anything out, the little figure peeking out of the house across the way turned into a green smoke-emitting box.
A teammate in the game turned on their mic and asked: “Is that Vito?”
No response.
But seeing the continuously rising kill count on the screen, he grew more convinced of his suspicion: “Shit, it really is Vito! I actually matched with Vito. Vito, can you turn on your mic and chat with us?”
...
Another voice, filled with doubt, interrupted him: “That’s not Vito, his ID isn’t this one.”
He affirmed: “I just checked his live stream, it’s definitely him. Shit, Vito? Is that really you, Vito? Do you cheat? Hang out with us for a bit, I’ll sell you a hack at a discount.”
After a long silence, someone coughed a few times in the live stream, likely accidentally choked by smoke.
His voice was somewhat hoarse but oddly familiar and lazy: “I’m your damn father.”
The tone was calm, not really like a curse, but more like stating a fact.
Song Zhi was stunned.
That voice sounded like He Han Yang.
That group of people, excited about their newfound ancestry, responded enthusiastically: “Holy crap, he actually spoke! Live Vito teacher, add me as a friend, I’ll give you hacks for free.”
“Idiot.”
Casually finishing those two words, He Han Yang threw a grenade, blowing them all up.
Actions speak louder than words.
[Team wiped out again, Sniper God’s account is almost gone.]
[The number one troublemaker in the esports world, Vito teacher, impressive.]
[Why are you streaming gaming today? Aren’t you continuing to stream your goddess’s off-key MV? Did your eyes finally recover? If you’re going to chase idols, at least pick someone better. Sure, Song Zhi is flirty, but her singing and dancing aren’t worth watching.]
Song Zhi, who couldn’t sing or dance but was flirtatious, looked at the comment with a hint of helplessness.
It seems there was no peace anywhere. She had only wanted to watch something relaxing to ease her broken heart caused by that jerk, but ended up being scolded randomly.
Damn!
Her mood worsened!
Just as she was about to leave the live stream, the man’s perpetually sleepy voice suddenly turned several degrees colder: “What I watch in my live stream has nothing to do with an orphan like you. If you’re so good at talking trash, why don’t we meet offline, and you can say these things to my face.”
The BGM in the live stream was Sgirl’s debut song, where Song Zhi’s part wasn’t significant—only six lines in the middle and the chorus. Even after audio tuning, it was evident she was off-key.
Song Zhi indeed lacked musical talent; hard work couldn’t compensate for lack of skill.
When He Han Yang opened NetEase Cloud Music to switch playlists, Song Zhi noticed that all the songs were from Sgirl.
Unimaginable, he was actually a fan of their group…
But Tang Xiao Yan was right; watching He Han Yang’s live stream was indeed satisfying.
His temper was completely uncompromising. If cursed at, he would retaliate tenfold on the spot.
Song Zhi didn’t have his guts. When cursed at, she could only pretend not to see it.
As a public figure under constant scrutiny, if she retaliated, she would probably trend on hot searches that day and face even more vicious insults.
Something she had always been afraid to do, she unexpectedly saw He Han Yang accomplish.
In gratitude for him standing up to that troll for her, Song Zhi opened the gift section next to the recharge button and sent him a Ferris wheel worth 9999 RMB.
The flashy special effects filled the entire screen and lasted a long time.
The live stream’s barrage was flooded with comments: [Boss is generous.]
Someone seemed to notice something unusual: [This ID looks familiar. Wasn’t this the account Song Zhi used during her live stream with Sniper God?]
[Seems like it, but shouldn’t it be impossible? Which female artist would dare to use her main account to tip her rumored love interest?]
Reminded by them, Song Zhi realized she had forgotten to switch accounts.
Fortunately, they only thought of her as an imposter account and didn’t dwell on the ID.
There was silence in the live stream for a while, not even the mouse moved, with only the BGM repeatedly playing that catchy, simple lyric.
It was exactly 5:30.
[Alright, it’s time. Everyone, disperse.]
[Happy trash-talking time always passes so quickly.]
[No one beats Teacher V in tardiness and early departure. To avoid streaming, he’s even willing to pay hefty breach fees. If the coach hadn’t stopped him, none of us would have had the chance to gather in this live stream.]
Even though it was time, people were still frantically spamming the barrage, seemingly waiting for the live stream to close and automatically explode.
A few minutes later, the man cleared his throat, and the mouse on the screen began to move slowly, eventually clicking on the game icon: “Let’s stream a bit longer today.”
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