Chapter 20: Countdown to the Streamer's Downfall
That night, at the Zhuang Tan villa.
Wei Ze lay listlessly on his bed, opening one eye to glance at his phone.
A swarm of young men and women were frantically messaging him, urging him to go out and have fun.
“Fun? No way! My dream is to save the world!”
With a rousing declaration, Wei Ze hauled himself up, walked to his computer desk, and prepared to watch a live broadcast explaining criminal investigation cases.
He opened the Whale website.
A pop-up for “Live Cultivation in the Mortal World” dominated the homepage.
Live cultivation? What on earth was that?
He was certain he only followed crime-related streamers—had his account been hacked?
Wei Ze stared blankly for a moment before realization struck.
—It was Lu Qingfei.
Curious, he clicked into the stream and found that she really was broadcasting cultivation!
Young Master Wei was stunned for ten thousand years!
He sprang to his feet, energized and excited.
Sister Fei, give me a chance!
Let me learn through the internet cable!
**
Time slipped by; soon it was half past seven.
Lu Qingfei set down the paper ingots in her hands and, following instructions, invited Liu Zhenyan’s verified account for a joint stream.
Netizens had waited half an hour, guarding the cold kiln, all for this moment.
The live chat was flooded with messages.
[Yesterday, Elder Liu definitely clicked by mistake! There’s no way they’ll connect today!]
[Liu’s account is managed by staff, usually used to promote Chinese calligraphy. They never do joint streams. The streamer is knowingly courting disaster—waiting for the inevitable flop!]
[Countdown to streamer’s flop, 9, 8… huh? They connected!?]
The screen split left and right, displaying two images: one of Lu Qingfei, the other of Liu Zhenyan.
But as the netizens said, it wasn’t Liu Zhenyan on camera, but Lian Qi.
[Confirmed! The streamer must have connections!]
[I knew it—look at this streamer’s looks and voice, definitely a hidden voice acting master. Otherwise, why would Liu’s team agree to a joint stream!]
On screen, the man wore a suit, just past forty, looking like an ancient strategist—scholarly, with wisdom in his eyes.
Lu Qingfei greeted him warmly, “Hello.”
Lian Qi replied solemnly, “Hello, I am Liu’s assistant, Lian Qi.”
“Mr. Lian,” Lu Qingfei responded with composure, “My surname is Lu.”
Lian Qi, having failed to purchase calligraphy works, had investigated this cultivation streamer’s background.
Lu Qingfei, a poor graduate forced by circumstance, had embarked on the dubious path of selling elixirs through livestreams.
“Miss Lu,” Lian Qi said politely, “I watched your previous stream and noticed your calligraphy has a distinctive personal style. I wanted to connect and learn from your experience.”
Lu Qingfei’s eyes curved with a hint of a smile. She uttered two words, “With heart.”
Lian Qi paused, “With heart?”
Lu Qingfei nodded, “Sincerity.”
[‘Sincerity’ is the ultimate move!]
[I usually don’t laugh, unless I can’t help myself.]
[This is hilarious—one dares to ask, one dares to answer!]
Lian Qi’s tone was oddly fractured, “…Just with sincerity?”
Lu Qingfei replied, “Yes, with sincerity.”
Lian Qi’s lips twitched.
He hadn’t expected such an answer.
With sincerity—clearly, this was a brush-off.
The Liu Zhenyan account had a massive fanbase. Seeing the notification [The streamer you follow is live], they clicked in without a second thought.
But instead of the usual calligraphy art showcase, they discovered a joint stream with an unknown figure!
Viewership soared, breaking ten thousand, then one hundred thousand, then two hundred thousand…
The audience wondered if they were dreaming.
What kind of divine streamer could prompt Liu Zhenyan’s team, unyielding to wealth and status, to initiate a connection?
And upon closer look—she truly was ‘divine.’
Cultivator, lunatic, immortal—call it what you will.
[Am I seeing things? Those two outrageous words—cultivation—are right there!]
[With celestial grace and beauty—heavenly streamer is stunningly gorgeous!]
[This streamer is so attractive, pity she’s a lunatic.]
[Streamer, you should pay more for health insurance. You look seriously unwell—more claims for you in the future!]
The chat was chaotic; the streamer remained serene.
Many netizens, drawn in by her face, impulsively clicked follow.
A perfect example of ‘we have no destiny—all thanks to my love for good looks.’
No real hobbies in this life, just a fondness for attractive people.
Lian Qi and Lu Qingfei discussed calligraphy—from brush, ink, paper, and inkstone to the traits of renowned calligraphers: the Immortal of Calligraphy, the Sage of Calligraphy, the God of Calligraphy… all mentioned.
Lian Qi seized the chance to ask who Lu Qingfei’s mentor was, but she sidestepped with a vague answer.
“All the calligraphers I mentioned earlier are my teachers.”
In words, she claimed a host of dead men as her mentors; in demeanor, there was nothing to fault.
Lian Qi was speechless.
He gazed at Lu Qingfei’s graceful features, unable to suppress the twitch in his facial muscles.
His defenses were shattered—he couldn’t glean any useful information!
**
Calligraphy Research Institute.
Inside the study, Liu Zhenyan and the publicity director watched the stream, the computer screen showing Lu Qingfei and Lian Qi.
The young woman remained calm from start to finish.
At that age, to be so unflappable—it left the director feeling deeply ashamed.
“Elder Liu, what do you think?” the director asked tentatively.
Those with talent and reputation tended to be aloof; Liu Zhenyan was no exception.
He snorted, “What can you learn from an online joint stream?”
The director echoed, “Yes, yes.”
After a while, Liu Zhenyan fixed his gaze on Lu Qingfei in the live room, gripped his dragon-headed cane, tapped it on the floor, and declared sternly:
“I’ll do it myself!”
The director’s head shot up. “What did you say?!”
**
Upon hearing that Liu Zhenyan would appear personally, Lian Qi wiped his face.
“Miss Lu, shortly our Elder Liu will connect with you. Please do not refuse.”
His tone carried a hint of humility.
He feared Lu Qingfei might, as before, outright reject the request for a joint stream.
If she refused, it wouldn’t just disgrace Liu Zhenyan—it would cost him his job.
[What, what, what—Elder Liu is going to join in person?]
[Honestly, I always thought Elder Liu was from the last century, already passed away. Didn’t expect he’s still around, covering my face.jpg]
Lu Qingfei’s brows flickered slightly. “Would eight ten be alright?”
At eight, the Whale platform would run its routine, verifying whether the streamer was a real person.
Lian Qi readily agreed, “Certainly.”
As long as the streamer didn’t refuse, never mind ten minutes, seventy minutes would be fine!
After an hour of streaming, Lu Qingfei’s page turned gray and white.
Then, dazzling effects and colorful fonts flashed across the top.
—“After the sound of firecrackers, a year is gone.” What is the next line? Please recite it in the world’s most spoken Chinese.
[The carrying pole is wide, the bench is long, the pole wants to be tied to the bench—la la la, let’s sing!]
“Spring breeze brings warmth to Tusu wine.” Lu Qingfei recited as requested.
[Correct slogan. Transaction continues.]
The stream returned to normal. Lu Qingfei took a cup and sipped tea.
“The line just now refers to our traditional festival, Spring Festival, where firecrackers are set off. Does anyone know the origin of firecrackers?”
[Teacher Immortal, I know! Originally, firecrackers were made by burning bamboo joints to create loud bangs and drive away evil spirits!]
[Friend up front, are you here for a class? Also, ‘Teacher Immortal’?]
“That user ‘White Cut Black Not as Good as White Cut Chicken’ is correct. Firecrackers originated as a means to expel evil and ghosts, later gaining the meaning of driving out the old year, divining the new, and even becoming a symbol for peace.”
As she finished speaking, the next second, the viewers saw the stream switch screens. Except for the six cold, white words: [This streamer is offline], there was nothing but darkness.
What just happened?
Where did my huge streamer go???