The End of the Universe Is Live-Streaming E-commerce – CH10

Chapter 10: The 10th Day of Livestream Selling

Lin Zhao did not directly start a livestream for this SSS region marked by the mainframe as extremely dangerous. Under 1114’s persistent coaxing, he merely posted a video.

Because…

The management of the SSS region was clearly different from Kaman. Although the mainframe could connect to the largest local traffic platform, it could not directly “pop up” the way it did in a D-rank area. If he wanted to livestream, he had to follow the local rules. The process was simple enough, more or less the same as in China: first register an account on the platform, and once the account reached a certain number of followers, he could start livestreaming.

“If it’s an ordinary livestream, there’s no follower requirement. But if it’s livestream selling, then a certain follower base is required. They have to be valid followers, and the proportion of original content within thirty days has to be higher than seventy percent,” 1114 explained to Lin Zhao.

Then how did one get followers? Nothing more than posting videos, buying traffic, and doing promotions.

Of course, he could also do ordinary livestreams first, and once he accumulated enough followers, switch to selling goods. But with Lin Zhao’s nearly nonexistent career ambition, 1114 did not count on that route. It settled for the next best thing and felt that posting videos was also a good idea. Not only was it for gaining followers, but after analyzing the operating models of other livestream sellers, it discovered that everyone did this: they did not rely purely on livestreams, but also posted videos to drive traffic.

This system, whose brain could not really be called clever, was always full of unrealistic fantasies toward its salted-fish host. It said, “If short videos take off, we can even earn advertising fees. I’ve already investigated it. Top streamers can easily quote over a million for a single commercial order, and they have very strong bargaining power.”

“Of course, if the host becomes a phenomenal super streamer, they basically won’t take traditional commercial orders anymore, because their advertising value will already far exceed the usual category. They’ll be more inclined toward deep partnerships with companies, equity cooperation, or creating their own brands.”

Simply put, it was: Host, you’re really not standing high enough. Should we work hard together?

Unfortunately, the host who had never intended to stand up at all answered: Then it was perfect to lie flat directly.

Lin Zhao did not want to work at all. Not being able to livestream would only make him happy, not make him work hard.

“You don’t have to work hard. It’s just posting a video. I’ll film it, I’ll edit it, I’ll register the account!” In fact, even doing all this itself would not waste much of 1114’s computing power, because it had already done it once across all of Blue Star’s major internet platforms. It was an experienced worker. The blue-and-white ball puffed out its chest proudly. “The introduction I made looks really good. Someone even privately messaged me before asking whether I take jobs making profile pages and résumés.”

Lin Zhao was thoroughly left with nothing to say. After all, the system had already said this much. Having disliked troubling others since childhood, he even felt that if he reluctantly accepted, he would seem a little like he was taking advantage while acting coy.

Still, he had to make things clear with the system. “What kind of video are you planning to film? I might not cooperate well.” He truly had no acting skills.

But 1114’s answer was that there was no need to specially film anything. It already had quite a lot of ready-made material.

The final result was the one Duke Reinhardt saw on the bridge.

By the seaside of Jiangzuo in winter, the water changed from a gloomy blue into a deep purple, then into a dreamlike fiery red, before finally merging into the grand scene of half a river in bleak colors and half a river red. The shadows of the high-rise buildings nearby gradually shortened in this sunrise over the sea, until the leaves in the shadows slowly shifted from blue-gray to emerald green.

The camera turned, revealing Lin Zhao seated on a wooden bench beside the boardwalk. In the cold wind, he buried his face into an ash-gray wool scarf and let the golden morning sunlight sweep toward him like seawater.

That light brushed over the fluffy, jet-black strands of hair on his forehead and condensed into tiny golden glimmers at the tips of his long eyelashes.

To be honest, it was filmed rather beautifully. Add in an addictive BGM, and the rest could be left to big data.

Lin Zhao also remembered that this was indeed a sunrise he had watched before. He actually quite liked watching sunrises, because whenever he could not sleep, he was sure to see one.

He just had not expected 1114 to have filmed it.

Yes, 1114 could now go outside with Lin Zhao. It was not that it had evolved some anthropomorphic, high-tech appearance for itself again, but rather that China’s rapidly advancing technology had made progress yet again. Honestly, ever since that trip to the far side of the moon, their motherland had become increasingly fond of calmly pulling out some jaw-dropping black technology that always felt like it should only appear in science fiction novels.

This time’s black technology had been mentioned by Qin Xiaoman when he met Lin Zhao for a meal—Student Xiaoman had finally fulfilled the barbecue appointment he had been longing for. He said that a delivery guy in the neighboring city had posted a video in the group chat. While delivering food, he had filmed a wooden puppet descending from the sky.

The authorities soon gave an explanation as well, asking everyone not to panic. It was only that ordinary robots could now fly, just like drones.

“Think about it. During New Year, this thing couldn’t even walk steadily. By the middle of the year, it could perform kung fu. Now that it’s evolved to flying, that’s normal too,” Qin Xiaoman said.

As for whether it was normal or not, Lin Zhao did not know. In any case, it gave him inspiration to take 1114 out in public. He could simply say it was a drone. A round drone.

And 1114 was visibly happy about being able to go out anytime and anywhere. Most of the time, it followed Lin Zhao to walk the dog or take a stroll, or to meet Qin Xiaoman for meals. This human and this system could be said to have hit it off at first sight, though no one knew exactly what they had hit off about. Occasionally, it would also leisurely fly out on its own. It even knew how to take the elevator and very politely greeted every neighbor. The old man upstairs confidently told his wife, “I understand this one. Someone’s controlling it remotely. That young man is really polite.”

No one did not need controllable personal space, even a system.

1114 used the camera in its eyes to record a great deal of beautiful life. It was just that most of this beauty was related to its host.

And reality also proved that opportunities were always reserved for prepared systems!

1114 happily finished editing Lin Zhao by the sea, then wasted no time posting its host onto the Yasa Empire’s StarNet, taking advantage of a wave of free traffic from the mainframe.

In a certain sense, the mainframe’s computing power truly was terrifying. Although there was no product that needed to be sold in the video, it still accurately pushed the video to people who might be interested in the visuals.

Although at this very moment, His Highness Reinhardt was still refusing to admit to his friend that he was interested.

“I just want to know what you were scrolling through.”

The prince, whose usual daily routine consisted of either mecha combat or mental power training, truly had a somewhat barren entertainment life. He left and returned, hesitated several times, and finally asked his friend this somewhat abrupt question.

Adjutant Carlos, however, understood almost instantly. “You still want to watch that video.”

“Who doesn’t have one nose and two eyes? Why would I be interested in someone else’s appearance? In fact, that is an extremely shallow behavior. I merely…” His Highness, who usually spoke in one or two words at a time, had said more in this one sentence today than he had in the past week. His entire body was tense and straight, rigid like a long spear, carrying a nervousness even he himself had not noticed.

“I don’t think I said which one,” Adjutant Carlos said, indicating that there was no need to explain. Explanation was concealment. They had just watched a total of three videos beneath the starry dome: gossip, news, and, of course, the beautiful black-haired young man.

Before a certain someone with extremely considerable combat strength could become embarrassed into anger, the adjutant, who had long since been lucky enough to find his lifelong partner, finally recovered what little conscience he had and gave the answer.

“It’s the short-video platform on StarNet. Tap the upper-left corner of your optical computer. The young man’s account ID just now was ‘Did Lin Salted Fish Work Hard Today?’ Search it and you’ll see it. He’s a newcomer and has only posted one video.”

The tall, long-legged prince had already strode away. His entire back carried the unique cold hardness of Yasa royalty. Only in his heart, he repeatedly chewed over and memorized every word the adjutant had said.

Whether Lord Reinhardt went back to watch the video that day, no one knew. But among the newly added followers of the account “Did Lin Salted Fish Work Hard Today?” there neatly appeared nine distinctive IPs. Among them were Adjutant Carlos and eight crew members from the command hub, not a single one missing. As for who the remaining brand-new blank account with no information belonged to, that was truly so hard to guess.

The next day, His Highness Reinhardt sent his adjutant an optical-computer message, concise and to the point:

“How do you watch a livestream?”

The adjutant, who had been surfing at high speed all year round, understood as always.

“It’s not that you can’t see it. He just hasn’t started streaming yet.”

On the profile page 1114 had made for Lin Zhao, it was written like this:

Irregular livestreams. Please look forward to them.

The words “typing…” appeared and disappeared above the chat box again and again. It was clear that the noble Highness on the other side had truly typed back and forth many times.

But in the end, only this appeared:

“…How long should I look forward to it?”

That was a good question.

Far away in the wasteland world, the people of Kaman were also eagerly waiting. Would that kindhearted person who sold canned goods at the drop of a hat appear again?

Author’s Note:

Nonsense Mini Theater:

His Majesty the Emperor: What has Rein been doing lately?

Adjutant Carlos: Probably busy blooming.

His Majesty the Emperor: ?

Adjutant Carlos: An iron tree blooming.

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