Chapter 8: Five Years of Streaming, Three Years of Practice?

Lu Qingfei’s thoughts raced as she smiled gently into the camera, her tone sincere:
“I’m sorry, today is my first time livestreaming, and I’m not very familiar with the platform yet. I won’t join any voice calls for now. If you’d like to connect tomorrow, please reach out again. Thank you.”
With that, she decisively selected “No” on the incoming request page.
Livestreaming is a marathon; if you start at a sprinter’s pace, you’ll quickly pull ahead, but you’ll just as quickly burn out.
Using too much energy on your first stream makes it hard to retain viewers in the long run.
Not to mention, most of the people flooding in now were here for amusement.
The viewers in the stream stared blankly at the scene before them.
[The streamer… refused? No way, is this for real???]
[What’s going on? My friends and I are completely stunned!]
[Do you need to research how to join a livestream call? Is this the legendary five years of streaming, three years of simulation?]
[Master Liu’s calligraphy is famous nationwide, his iron strokes and silver hooks are unmatched—she actually refused him?!]
[Seriously, is the streamer illiterate? Does she know who she just turned down?!]
The chat was noisy, bullet comments flying like wildfire.
Many viewers, standing on their high horses, criticized the streamer for being ignorant and slow-witted. Others argued she must have realized Liu Zhenyan clicked by accident and refused the call to spare him embarrassment.
After Lu Qingfei declined Liu Zhenyan’s request, plenty more people arrived, drawn by the commotion, and the audience steadily grew.
The reason was simple.
Few people in the world can turn down Liu Zhenyan.
Who is Liu Zhenyan?
He’s the Honorary President of the National Calligraphy Institute, renowned across the country. He’s no mere celebrity—he’s the real deal, a master of his craft.
[She let a golden opportunity slip away, what a shame!]
[The internet isn’t a lawless land—can this foolish streamer be banned?]
[My goddess streamer isn’t stupid at all, didn’t you see how tactfully she refused? And if your idol with a grade-school diploma can thrive online, why can’t my calligraphy teacher?!]
[Your idol has a grade-school diploma? Your whole family has grade-school diplomas!]
The number of viewers was now twenty times higher than at the start.
Lu Qingfei leaned back in her chair, knees pressed against the desk, eyes lifted to the densely packed bullet comments.
She squinted, a fleeting smile crossing her lips.
People, after all, are driven by entertainment.
Around her left wrist, she wore a red hair tie wrapped twice. She lowered her gaze, contemplating the splash of red, thoughtful.
The spiritual vein was stirring faintly.
Only with abundant spiritual energy can cultivation begin.
After cultivation, she would have access to a complete system of pill and talisman production and sales.
*

Her phone rang.
It was the Minister of the Publicity Department calling.
Lian Qi answered in high spirits, only to hear the minister’s voice, as cool as his body temperature, deliver chilling news.
“The streamer politely declined the voice call request.”
“Is there a bug in the backend?” Lian Qi was incredulous, “Maybe she rejected it by accident.”
“No. The streamer is a very polite young woman; she said thank you and declined the call today.”
“….”
No call today?
Call what—call Lian Qi?
Lian Qi himself was about to cry.
He glanced at Liu Zhenyan, who sat at his desk, and declared, “Isn’t she selling goods? I’ll buy everything she has!”
He refused to believe the streamer would turn down a voice call from a top patron.
The minister replied, “The streamer only sold one pill, which has already been purchased. There’s nothing else for sale right now.”
Lian Qi: “???”
Only one pill for sale, and she dares to do a livestream?
Is there any justice?
“If you want to connect, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” said the minister.
Lian Qi pinched his brow, sighing, “Tomorrow, then. I’ll handle it myself.”
A puzzled “Ah?” sounded from the other end.
Lian Qi asked, “Is there a problem?”
“No, no problem,” the minister replied with a smile, “I’m just a little surprised.”
Liu Zhenyan rarely appeared in person, and Lian Qi was his sole assistant; when he intervened, it was as if Liu Zhenyan himself had stepped in.
Liu Zhenyan remained absorbed in scrutinizing the calligraphy, as though he were examining not a work of art but a priceless treasure.
Lian Qi hung up and walked over, stiff-necked and hesitant, “Master Liu, that young woman turned down our voice call.”
Liu Zhenyan didn’t seem surprised. He merely lifted his eyelids and cast a sidelong glance at Lian Qi.
That look made Lian Qi’s heart tremble.
“We’ll try again tomorrow,” Lian Qi forced a smile, “I’ll reach out to her myself then.”
Liu Zhenyan neither agreed nor disagreed.
Lian Qi, quick-witted, knew just how to please him, and immediately messaged the minister.
If a voice call wasn’t possible for now, then acquiring the streamer’s calligraphy would be the next best thing.
If there was a transaction, there would be a chance to meet.
Meeting in person would mean no need for a call.
*

Lu Qingfei focused on the chat, selecting sensible questions to answer.

[Streamer, streamer, lately I’ve had allergic reactions from watching dramas. Do you think I’ve developed a drama syndrome?]
“Drama syndrome,” Lu Qingfei repeated thoughtfully.
[What drama syndrome? Friend, that’s aesthetic cleanliness acting up—you’re just allergic to ugly things, hahaha.]
Lu Qingfei smiled lightly at this comment.
[You’ve sparked my interest in learning calligraphy, but I’m a White Swan. I can’t accept calligraphers who dislike White Swans. Is there any calligrapher who likes White Swans?]
White Swan.
A popular fan name for a certain top celebrity.
Lu Qingfei was convinced.
If you keep your fans close to heart, they’ll help you trend.
Her bright eyes lowered for a moment in thought, then she looked up and said, “Yes, there is.”
“The Sage of Calligraphy, Wang Xizhi, is the greatest lover of white geese—you can study his script.”
[Really? Are you sure you’re not bluffing?]
Lu Qingfei didn’t answer directly, but continued gracefully, “There’s a story about Wang Xizhi’s love for geese.”
“There was an elderly widow in Kuaiji who raised a white goose with a beautiful cry. Wang Xizhi heard about it and wanted to buy the goose.”
“Unexpectedly, when the old woman learned Wang Xizhi was coming, she slaughtered the goose and cooked it to treat him.”
[Goose: ??? Excuse me? That was unexpected.]
[Thought it was a story, turned out to be an accident—what kind of grudge was that!]
[Sometimes, the white goose just wants to call the police!]
“Wang Xizhi, upon hearing this, was distressed for a whole day. Later, he heard a Taoist had good geese, and so invited friends to see them.”
[Goose: I beg you, don’t come see me, I’m scared!]
[Life isn’t just about what’s in front of you, but what’s behind your eyes.]
“This time, the goose wasn’t slaughtered, and Wang Xizhi was able to see them as he wished. He found these geese excellent and wanted to buy them, but the Taoist refused.”
Lu Qingfei relaxed, her ink-black eyes sparkling under the lights, animated with every word.
“After repeated requests, the Taoist agreed to exchange the geese for Wang Xizhi’s calligraphy.”
“Wang Xizhi wrote a piece for the Taoist, after which the Taoist handed over a cage full of white geese.”
[I’ve heard this—Wang Xizhi ended up spending all his days playing with geese and living the good life.]
[Surrounded by a flock of white geese—I can only imagine how happy Wang Xizhi must have been!]
[Trading calligraphy for geese—this is like a mute making a phone call, a blind man driving, a deaf person listening to opera, absolutely brilliant!]
As Lu Qingfei was absorbed in the comments, a message suddenly popped up backstage.
It was from the platform administrator.
She clicked into the chat.
Little Whale V: [Hello, streamer. Someone wishes to purchase your calligraphy, and has asked me to inquire about your willingness. Are you interested?]