Chapter 27: The 27th Day of Livestream Selling
Life after moving to his aunt’s place…
Was not all that different from Lin Zhao’s life in his own home.
At night, he still slept whenever he wanted. In the morning, he still slept until whatever time he wanted. His aunt’s house was very large, a big four-bedroom apartment with a four-leaf-clover layout. She had one room, her son and nephew each had one, and even the little dog Doudou had one. In short, the four bedrooms were arranged in the four corners of the home, so there was absolutely no need to worry that people with completely different schedules would disturb one another.
Except Doudou, wearing four little shoes, would accurately come back from walks every day and pat on the door, excitedly shouting for Brother Lin Zhao to wake up.
But at times like this, his aunt Lin Mingzhu, who was about to leave for work, was usually more anxious. She would hurriedly coax away her little daughter with snacks, afraid it would wake Lin Zhao, who had worked hard all year.
Mm. In Auntie’s eyes, her nephew had worked very hard doing livestream selling.
1114 had a lot to say about this, but it could not curse in front of elders, so it said nothing.
On the morning of New Year’s Eve, Ms. Lin Mingzhu finally had a holiday. Lin Zhao also woke up quite early. After washing up and changing into the rather festive red sweater and white pants his aunt had bought him, he left his room, preparing to put up couplets.
This sacred and important task was handed to Lin Zhao and his cousin Lin Xiang every year on New Year’s Eve. Jiangzuo was very particular about the idea that putting up couplets after noon would be unlucky. But Lin Xiang’s flight would not arrive in Jiangzuo until evening, so this year, Lin Zhao could only complete it alone.
…That was how it should have been.
It was just that Mechanic’s nanny robot was far too intelligent and far too good at relieving its owner’s worries. Lin Zhao had already woken earlier than usual, but by the time he got up, the robot had already finished everything.
The house had been cleaned yesterday until it was bright enough to reflect light, with spotless windows and clear tabletops. Early this morning, it had started putting up couplets and window flowers, making breakfast, preparing ingredients for the New Year’s Eve dinner, and even going out by itself to walk the dog.
Do not ask how Lin Zhao knew. While 1114 was surfing the internet, it came across a short video posted by a neighbor in the same residential compound.
The like count was not small.
Everyone adapted well to this. Not a single person thought it was strange. They were only asking everywhere in the comment section where this dog-walking robot could be bought. If the price was suitable, they were not incapable of gritting their teeth and buying one.
People who had never walked a dog through wind and rain, without avoiding cold or heat, would never understand how great this robot was.
In fact, not only did Lin Zhao have no work to do, even Ms. Lin Mingzhu, who was very diligent every year and had to stay busy for a long time, was gloriously laid off.
When she got up early, this robot she had named Lin Ji was already in the kitchen frying oil dumplings and sesame balls.
Theoretically speaking, these should have started being fried two days earlier, but Lin Mingzhu needed to work. As a senior executive at a state-owned enterprise, she actually had to hold her post even more firmly at times like this. She even had to go to the office on the second day of the New Year as the leader on duty, ensuring she was on post twenty-four hours a day and that her phone could not be turned off.
Because of this, their family’s New Year rules had gradually become that these essential New Year foods would be fried only on New Year’s Eve. The same treatment applied to next-year rice and oil cakes.
While the nanny robot held multiple jobs and turned on every open flame and kitchen appliance that could be turned on, Lin Zhao and his aunt each held a bowl of fried snacks, sitting on the Chinese-style sofa in the living room and staring at each other.
Everything in his aunt’s house was good, except this solid wood sofa she insisted on keeping. It really took people’s lives.
Beside the two of them was 1114, which had become obsessed to the point of deviation from reading romance novels. To make it easier for it to read, Lin Zhao had specially bought it an automatic page-turner online. It did not even need Bluetooth or Wi-Fi. It could control the reader’s speed and on-off switch by itself at any time.
By the way, when 1114 first performed this in front of his aunt, Ms. Lin Mingzhu stared in a daze. If she had not known that on the other end was her nephew’s technically skilled friend with extremely severe social anxiety—1114 proudly puffed out its chest: yes, that’s right, I am Zhaozhao’s good friend—she would have thought this was the prequel to some movie about artificial intelligence rebellion.
In short, Lin Zhao and his aunt had never been this idle during New Year before, idle enough to finally understand what was being said on the television.
In previous years, the living room television would also stay on, but it was merely background noise while they worked. Who knew what it was saying? In any case, amid all that lively noise, the New Year began.
But now…
“Why don’t you livestream for a while?” Auntie suddenly had a whimsical idea.
Lin Zhao: “?”
Ms. Lin Mingzhu, who had specially permed a fashionable hairstyle for New Year, had originally only been joking with her nephew, but the more she spoke, the more she felt this was a good idea.
“Your younger brother won’t be back until tonight. Maybe he’ll be able to see the two of us on camera right now.”
1114 immediately stopped reading the book in front of it. With an expression of “if this is what you’re talking about, then I’m not sleepy anymore,” it excitedly flew over, smoothly joined in, actively participated, and gave Lin Zhao no chance to refute as it cheered.
“That’s right, that’s right, Zhaozhao, open one. Let Auntie see! Come on, don’t be afraid, be generous and natural!”
The last sentence was obviously something 1114 had learned from Qin Xiaoman, whose hometown was in Northeast China. Just like every Northeasterner, Student Qin Xiaoman was currently spending New Year with his whole family… on Qiong Island.
1114 continued shouting slogans:
“Work the competition to death, tire ourselves to death, focus on cost-effectiveness! While they’re all busy celebrating New Year, we’ll quietly go live and amaze everyone! Snatch all their customers away!”
If Lin Zhao were so easily provoked into action, he would not be him.
It was just that his aunt’s next sentence was:
“But you’ve also worked hard for a whole year. It is time to think about other things too. Speaking of which, do you know who I ran into when I got off work yesterday? Doctor Zhang, your mother’s former colleague at the hospital. Do you still remember her? She’s already the director of cardiac surgery now. Her daughter is about the same age as you…”
There was no need for Auntie to continue. Lin Zhao, dressed like a red envelope, had already shot to his feet. Standing in the center of the living room with his tall height of 1.8 meters, he loudly announced:
“Live! I just love livestreaming during New Year!”
Once the topic of blind dates appeared, even work no longer became that unbearable.
Lin Zhao currently had no interest in dating, whether with women or men. He felt that he was practically born with the sacred body of the ruthless path. From childhood to adulthood, he had never understood what it felt like to love someone so much one would live and die for them.
As for what they would livestream later, everyone still needed to discuss it first.
Ms. Lin Mingzhu had infinite interest and energy for participating in this topic. She offered all kinds of ideas and active suggestions, making Lin Zhao belatedly realize: had Auntie cared so much about his livestream career before not only because of support and love for family, but also because she herself was interested in livestreaming?
When he was little and spent New Year at his maternal grandmother’s home every year, his maternal grandfather would always proudly mention at the dinner table that his youngest aunt had loved singing and dancing since childhood, and back when she was in school, she participated in the literary and artistic performance every year.
Thinking again about Auntie’s extremely enthusiastic square dancing career…
Many things seemed to make sense all at once.
However, the livestream theme they ultimately discussed was still the ordinary act of making New Year’s Eve dinner. There was no helping it. This was the simplest, required the least preparation, and was also the easiest content to have an audience for.
After all, this was Auntie’s first time participating in a livestream. Lin Zhao did not want his aunt, who had been strong all her life, to see overly bleak data.
At this moment, Lin Zhao was very grateful for his mass foundation in Kaman. Even though he had not livestreamed for so many days, the viewers there showed absolutely no intention of running away.
Of course, regarding whether to livestream cooking, Lin Zhao had also discussed it with Gray. Cunningham would occasionally interrupt and have Gray relay her words.
What she meant was: do it. Why not do it? She not only suggested Lin Zhao do more cooking streams, she also tried in every way to recommend that Lin Zhao preferably make some of the food they were selling.
Simply put, it was advertising for them.
Gray sincerely gave his thoughts too. He also felt it was fine to livestream. The overly hellish side Lin Zhao had worried about before did not exist.
On one hand, what had the people of Kaman not seen? They were not that fragile at all.
On the other hand, everyone’s supplies were no longer as tense as before. Even if they could not buy something for the moment, they knew they would definitely be able to buy it in the future. Gray hoped everyone could see this hope—that they too would one day live a normal life like Lin Zhao.
And what was a normal life?
Mercenary Gray truly had no experience. Smoke and metal formed the overwhelming majority of his understanding. “Normal” was a concept too distant and vague.
In his barren imagination, the only thing he could think of was that day when he first brought the canned goods back to Gear Town, and the elderly Nurse Grandma Madeline excitedly stayed up all night cooking that steaming pot of fruit soup, enough for everyone to have a share.
That night, the stove fire burned especially long.
Sweet, moist steam seeped from the edge of the pot lid that had been wiped until it shone. The rising heat blurred the wrinkles on Grandma Madeline’s face. She lifted the lid and slowly stirred with a long spoon. It was a thick and abundant sound.
In the end, every worn but clean bowl was filled with that scalding sweetness. Gray himself also had a portion. When he accepted that bowl of diluted sweet soup, the warmth transmitted through his fingertips almost felt unfamiliar, carrying something he had almost forgotten long ago, a feeling called security.
If he closed his eyes, he could still seem to smell the sweetness of that moment.
It was an unprecedented satisfaction.
He could feel that he was finally beginning to be warmly and equally nourished by fate.
And since even the local people of Kaman felt there was no problem, Lin Zhao also included Kaman within the livestream range this time. Of course, he also prepared quite a few New Year benefits, all real food. There would be a lucky draw every ten minutes. This way, everyone should be able to watch a little more happily.
This New Year benefit was proposed by 1114. It was also one of the many livestreaming techniques it had researched. Many streamers would continuously give out red envelopes during livestreams, and some would even do exaggerated welfare draws during anniversary celebrations, such as drawing one phone every half hour or one car every hour.
With this kind of lucky-draw benefit announced, it was really hard for people not to rush in excitedly.
They busied themselves preparing for most of the day. It was not until three in the afternoon that they almost officially began streaming. Aunt Lin changed three outfits just for appearing on camera. Heaven knew that only the day before yesterday, while eating, she had complained to Lin Zhao that she was almost out of clothes to wear.
Then where did this whole bed of clothes come from?
Lin Zhao accompanied his aunt in choosing for who knew how long. In the end, they still decided on the first version: the dark-red new Chinese-style outfit he had seen Auntie wearing on the sofa that morning. It made her whole person look full of healthy vitality.
—
Farlris, Central Holy See.
Lord Arland the blessed one once again swept that pile of dark, sticky potion residue, which gave off an indescribable smell, into the mouth of the Abyss Swamp Dragon he kept in the tower, one that seemed to have an eternally unfillable stomach.
In Lin Zhao’s understanding, it was a kitchen waste bin.
The dark elf’s glowing-white fingertips were trembling. Not from exhaustion, but from an irritation that had seeped into his bones and was nearly about to explode.
Carefully mixed, not a second off, even the number of dewdrops precise to the third decimal place. But the finished product…
Damn it. That greasy, dry, strangely battered thing could be called “fried chicken”?
“Trash.”
Who knew how many times this word had already been squeezed from between Arland’s clenched teeth—nor whether he was expressing dissatisfaction toward himself or the Holy See—and smashed onto the potion table covered in scorch marks and strange colorful stains, leaving only hollow echoes.
The air was filled with the bitterness of failed potions, and a faint trace of his own aura leaking out from excessive magical energy consumption.
Arland did not want to admit it, but he did indeed miss that previous taste.
It could not be said that every inch of his bones was clamoring for it, but during every long night when he had no choice but to chew through a plate of grass in order to survive, it made things especially hard to endure.
If he had never eaten that fried chicken, if he did not know what it felt like for something to be crispy, savory, and make a light crack when bitten, while the juices inside splashed through the mouth…
Arland had never before felt that he was someone who valued appetite. In fact, regarding the long and dull life of long-lived species, if not for potion research supporting him, he would have felt everything somewhat boring.
But only now did he understand.
It was not that he did not love eating. It was that he had never eaten something he loved before.
As someone who almost never regretted his actions, he had been regretting constantly these days. Why had he not exchanged for more transaction points back then? Why had he not bought more food from that link?
Was he short on money?
The gold coins in his spatial ring were almost overflowing!
But until the moment that light screen disappeared, he still had not realized what exactly he had missed. He had only ordered his attendant priest Ryan to replicate it.
But neither the priest nor the Holy See’s head chef had ever eaten the special kind of fried chicken he described. Merely listening to his description made it difficult to perfectly recreate it.
He had no choice but to personally enter the field.
He could mix hundreds of profound potions with his eyes closed. He knew over a thousand potion formulas. It was similarly work that mixed a pile of things together to create a miracle. He could not see what there was that he could not do.
Then…
He learned that he truly could not do this.
No matter what he did, he could not reach the taste he had eaten that day. How strange. Where exactly was the problem?
Outside the high tower, separated by layers of ancient reinforced stone walls and barriers, faint clattering sounds of pots, bowls, ladles, and basins could be heard, mixed with the lowered, frightened discussions of the kitchen maids.
“Has Lord Blessed One started again?”
“This time he added dragon-breath chili powder, saying he wanted to recreate that unique spicy flavor. But what came out was still black charcoal… no, even more terrifying than black charcoal. Old Billy, who taste-tested it last time, was unconscious for a full three days!”
“Goddess of Light above, or the God of Revelry will do too, someone please save our kitchen…”
Arland had tried nearly every recorded forbidden ritual related to communicating with other planes. He had emptied the mage tower’s accumulated rare materials, and had even risked contacting several demonic beings with less-than-reliable reputations. Yet he still gained nothing.
That voice, that light screen, had completely disappeared, as if it had never existed.
What remained to him was only broken taste memory and anger that burned hotter day by day.
At this moment, Lord Arland was like a demon in a bottle—uh, no, in a tower.
The past him had sworn that whoever could let him eat the food he yearned for again, he would give that person supreme wealth. Later, as time passed, he began swearing to the Goddess of Light that whoever could let him eat fried chicken, he would give that person all power. And now…
He only wanted that person dead!
Just as the violent dark elf was about to use an elemental sphere compressed to the extreme to smash the priceless obsidian potion table before him, a breeze brushed past.
The open window brought in a very faint unfamiliar scent from the courtyard garden outside—it belonged to elves, to nature, yet carried the clean feeling of being dyed by the Church of Light, making him instinctively displeased.
The nature elves had arrived.
Arland had known long ago, because he had already received, several days earlier, the invitation letter that looked glamorous on the surface but was full of probing intentions underneath.
The Church of Light was hosting and inviting the nature elves, who were “visiting along the way,” to exchange views on “the harmonious way of nature and light.”
Complete nonsense.
When had the nature elves of the Rift Forest and the Church of Light ever had true “harmony”?
Elves were arrogant, and nature elves were the pinnacle among them.
They did not even take dragons, who were just as ancient as they were and whose language was also one of the sources of modern magic, seriously, let alone humans whose magical foundation was basically equivalent to nothing.
Arland had no interest in dealing with these respectable people’s empty courtesy. As long as they did not bother him and did not approach his mage tower, he did not care how they performed host and guest enjoying themselves outside, or how they wove lies and traps for each other in elegant Elvish.
He turned and walked toward the mountain of failed products piled in the corner, preparing to activate a small annihilation array to thoroughly clean away these eyesores.
The instant magical power began gathering at his fingertips into sparks that were purple-black—
Zzzzt—
A faint sound carrying electrical static suddenly exploded without warning deep in his ears—no, directly in the very center of his sea of consciousness!
Or rather, it exploded in the minds of every believer attending the Church of Light meeting that day.
Everyone froze, then subconsciously looked toward the Seventh Mage Tower where the blessed one Arland was located. As expected, familiar light once again lit up there.
That light seemed to carry weight and temperature in itself, making the eyes that looked up at it sting, and making the skin exposed to it feel burned as if by sunlight.
Inside the tower, Arland’s entire elven body stiffened.
The magical sparks went out with a puff. The runes of the annihilation array flickered once in the air, then ultimately collapsed into countless specks of starlight.
The noise below the tower, the darkness outside the window, the hypocrisy of nature elves and humans… all sounds faded in an instant, pulled infinitely far away.
In his world, only his suddenly out-of-control heartbeat remained, pounding like a war drum, followed immediately after the electrical static by—
“Happy New Year, everyone! Can you hear me, family members? I missed you so much! I don’t know what everyone is eating for New Year, but my aunt and I are frying fries.”
One sentence was enough to make the naturally suspicious demon in the tower stay.
Frying what?
How were they frying it?
Was it better than fried chicken?
Author’s Note:
Nonsense Mini Theater:
Arland’s deathly smile: Thank you for still remembering me.
P.S. Every monkey has its own way of being tied. For meat-eating dark elves, it’s fried chicken. For vegetarian nature elves, of course it’s fries. Sounds perfectly reasonable, right? Not really.
Another P.S. “I missed you all so much” is Lin Zhao playing with a meme. It’s not something his personality would genuinely say. It’s just that during New Year, one can’t help thinking of Teacher Feng Gong, hahaha.
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