Chapter 49: Livestream (Part Two)
They left the neighborhood in the afternoon and arrived at the venue where the press conference was being held. The lead actors were busy and arrived late, so Chen Bai ended up hanging out with his co-star, who played the third male lead. Since the show wrapped, they hadn’t seen much of each other but stayed in touch, becoming something like online buddies. Whenever they met up, they could still chat comfortably.
His co-star had already seen his new white hair during their online chats, but seeing it in person was a whole different experience. Filled with curiosity, he immediately reached out and gave it a tug.
Zhou Jing arrived just as Chen Bai’s white hair had been pulled to the point of numbness. When he walked backstage, he was greeted by a pair of dazed eyes and a head of thoroughly messed-up white hair.
The white-haired Chen Bai greeted him, with dull eyes, pointing at his head, asking, “You want to try pulling it too?”
Zhou Jing “…”
Zhou Jing’s hand, which had been hanging at his side, twitched slightly before he raised it to remove his hat, saying, “No need.”
Chen Bai’s co-star, having had his fill of pulling on the hair, finally let go and said, “It’d be a shame not to pull it—it feels really nice.”
Chen Bai thanked him for the heartfelt compliment.
Zhou Jing glanced at the white hair again and sat down beside him.
The director was bustling about, and the lead actress arrived just in time for a round of rehearsals, which went smoothly.
After rehearsal, Chen Bai’s white hair had been tugged at by just about everyone.
While his hair was being fixed before the press conference, the styling team commented that his messy hair had a “unique charm.”
Chen Bai agreed, “Definitely.”
As the clock neared 8 p.m., online anticipation grew. Though the press conference hadn’t started yet, over a million people had already reserved a spot in the livestream, with many waiting in the still-dark stream chat, repeatedly asking, “Has it started yet?”
At 7:40, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, the livestream finally opened for equipment testing. The audience could only see the floor where the camera was pointed, occasionally catching glimpses of people’s feet as they passed by.
While the stream hadn’t yet shown anyone, the chat was live, allowing viewers to start talking. The chat exploded with so many comments that the stream briefly lagged before returning to normal.
At 7:50, the camera finally tilted up, revealing the empty stage already set up. A few shots of the backstage area followed, confirming the cameras were working.
At exactly 8 p.m., the stage unfolded like a traditional Chinese ink painting, lights illuminating the scene.
The first to appear was Zhou Jing, wearing a simple suit, politely offering his arm to the lead actress in her elegant gown.
The two of them walked toward the center of the stage—handsome and beautiful, a striking pair.
As soon as they appeared, the livestream chat went wild. The comments moved so fast that it was impossible to read them, with each one immediately covered by the next.
The two stood in the center of the stage, and then another person appeared.
From the angle of the livestream, the first thing the audience saw was a head of white hair.
As the white strands moved with the figure, a slender person in a simple shirt stepped onto the stage, their expression calm and composed.
In that instant, the chat exploded again.
[Who is this handsome guy???]
[What’s this? White hair? Lick! What’s this? White hair? Lick!]
[8.91, you! You disappeared for a while and came back as a cool guy!]
[So Chen Bai’s Weibo photos were just from his archive! He posted a picture yesterday with black hair! [shocked cat face.jpg]]
[White hair? Who are you? Chen Bai, did you secretly become a cold and handsome guy?]
…
The barrage of comments continued to pour in, though those on stage couldn’t see them. Chen Bai stood next to Zhou Jing, and when their eyes met, he couldn’t help but smile.
With that smile, the ‘cold, handsome guy’ image shattered, and the familiar Chen Bai returned.
Standing beside him was his co-star, and with the entire cast now on stage, the director and other key figures joined them.
Once everyone was present, they picked up their microphones, and the press conference officially began.
The event followed a formal schedule, and because it was being livestreamed, Chen Bai was uncharacteristically serious, unlike at the film’s opening ceremony where he and his co-star had whispered to each other. This time, both stood there, unexpectedly well-behaved.
Those on stage who were familiar with the pair’s usual antics kept sneaking glances at them, wondering how long their serious act would last. Even Zhou Jing, when he wasn’t speaking, turned to look at the unusually solemn Chen Bai beside him, chuckled softly, and then turned away.
Somehow, the two managed to keep it up, staying composed all the way through the interactive segment with the audience—quite the feat.
After standing for the entire press conference, they were finally able to sit. Both immediately took their seats, and Chen Bai, out of habit, started to slouch down, but remembering this wasn’t his own or his neighbor’s home, he sat up straight just in time.
With the main part of the event over, the remaining time was for casual conversation and fan interaction.
Staff members filtered and relayed questions from the livestream chat, and those on stage took turns answering.
Not all the questions were about the show—there was a wide range of topics, and whoever was addressed would pick up the mic and answer.
Thinking he wouldn’t have much to say, Chen Bai quietly placed his microphone aside and started stretching his stiff wrists. But halfway through, he suddenly heard someone call, “Teacher Chen Bai.”
“Huh?”
He looked up, quickly grabbing the mic. After glancing at it, he realized he was holding it the wrong way and subtly corrected it.
[Does this guy think he’s already off work?]
[He almost held the mic upside down—classic Chen Bai.]
[Zhou Jing is trying so hard not to laugh. He definitely just chuckled! Haha!]
It turned out the question wasn’t anything serious. The staff said the livestream audience was curious about his white hair.
The rest of the cast had more to say on the matter than he did. Everyone nodded and agreed, “It feels great to touch.”
Chen Bai finally picked up the mic, opened his eyes slightly, and briefly said, “Thank you for the compliments.”
[It feels really nice? I don’t believe it, let me touch it!]
[Chen Bai, the human walking good luck charm.]
[I can’t imagine how cheerful I’d be if I could touch it!]
…
The press conference successfully landed in the top trending searches again.
Chen Bai, with his white hair that “feels really nice” and the microphone he held upside down, was right in the middle of the trending topics.
The next day at 8 p.m., ‘Ask Fate’ had its nationwide premiere.
With top-quality costumes, a well-written script, strong acting performances, excellent direction, and a tight, engaging storyline, even from just the first episode, it was clear the show had all the hallmarks of a hit.
Within half an hour of its release, the show’s popularity skyrocketed, reaching over 20,000 real-time mentions. An hour later, it topped the trending charts, breaking the historical viewing record for original dramas. The TV station’s real-time viewership peaked at 0.86, making it the most-watched program in its timeslot.
Barring any unforeseen events, this was likely to become another hit drama for Director Zhang.
The fans of the actors were initially cautious. Even after seeing the trailer, they held back from hyping up their favorite stars too much before the premiere. But once the show aired, they realized they had been too modest in their praise.
In simple terms, the performance exceeded expectations, regardless of which actor you focused on.
In just one day, Zhou Jing managed to shed the labels that had clung to him, while Chen Bai dispelled rumors and speculation about his “fake academic persona.”
Viewers outside the industry saw the show’s rapidly increasing numbers and the skyrocketing fan base of its stars, while producers within the industry, who had been waiting to see how it would perform, immediately began thinking about how much the actors’ fees would rise.
Some opportunities only come once, and the chance to hire actors with both strong fan followings and solid acting skills at a reasonable price was now gone.
The director and producer of ‘Youth Journey’, who had managed to sign two high-value actors with modest paychecks, emerged as the biggest winners.
With these two leads working together again, even the buzz was pre-made. Both Ask Fate’s director and Youth Journey’s production team were feeling good about their decisions.
Since the show aired weekly, with just a few episodes per week, fans were left wanting more. Many expressed the wish that they could wake up and find the whole series already finished.
When that wish didn’t come true, they turned their attention to ‘Youth Journey’, hoping it would premiere immediately—only to be disappointed again.
Though the buzz surrounding ‘Ask Fate’ remained high, it no longer dominated the trending searches like it did in the first few days.
The trending topics were soon overtaken by the 15th anniversary celebration of a long-standing game series.
Various clubs across the country hosted friendly matches, and the game’s publishers planned a series of events for the anniversary. There were several consecutive days of celebrations, with promises of big events on the actual anniversary day.
However, players were not particularly optimistic. They still remembered the 10th anniversary celebration, which only featured a lackluster promotional video and a few game skin fragments. Most people were more interested in watching the friendly matches.
On the day of the anniversary, two announcements were made:
First, there were attribute changes to the character Yue Yi, who had been weakened too much in previous updates, causing many to abandon the character. Some aspects were now enhanced, making Yue Yi competitive again. The updated version would be available at midnight.
Second, as expected, there was another promotional video, which would air live after the friendly matches.
The matches ended at 6 p.m., and the promotional video premiered on time. Viewers were ready with their keyboards, expecting to critique it harshly.
But they found themselves hesitating to type.
Compared to the 10th-anniversary video, this new one felt like a completely different game.
The quality of the visuals and music had improved dramatically. Every frame and beat exuded high production values, with smooth transitions that were almost unbelievable.
The lyrics and music were crafted by a renowned musician, and the animation was handled by a professional studio. The quality of the promotional video was undeniable.
The video was grand and seamless, with stirring music. As it neared the end, the intense drumbeats halted as the mountains and seas finally converged.
All sound vanished, leaving an abrupt silence as the screen faded to black.
It was a promotional video of the highest quality.
Thinking it was over, the nerves of those watching at the match venue and at home began to ease.
But before they could fully relax, they were startled by a subtle sound.
It was like the wind rustling through the trees, mixed with the crisp sound of metal clashing. The screen, which had gone completely dark, lit up again, revealing a pair of pale gray eyes.
Emotionless, looking down from above.
A long wind swept through the forest, white hair brushing across sharp eyebrows. A pale blue longbow was raised.
The fingers of the archer shifted slightly, the eyes narrowing.
“Clang.”
The sound of silver earrings clinking together accompanied the release of an arrow, which shot through the mist with a piercing whistle.
The arrow vanished, and the final drumbeat rang out, vibrating deep in the ears. The scene shifted, finally stopping on the game’s logo.
The promotional video was now truly over.
Having been fooled once before, the audience waited a few extra seconds in silence. When the screen didn’t light up again, they realized it had really ended this time.
There was a brief moment of silence, followed by an overwhelming sense of awe, leaving many with goosebumps.
[Wow, they really went all out this time!!]
[I thought it was over at the end there!]
[I rewatched it several times and finally realized that wasn’t CGI—that was a real person!]
[Little Zhi was so handsome I nearly lost it, and the theme song is amazing!]
[So this was the big surprise all along. I almost missed it! No wonder Chen Bai randomly changed his hair color!]
The promotional video was released simultaneously with the friendly match, and by the time the players attending the event joined the comment section, it had already exploded.
[Damn it, that’s my Yue Yi! That’s my precious Yue Yi!!]
[I always thought no one could truly capture the essence of Yue Yi! Chen Bai, you’re so handsome!]
[Alright, from today on, I’m going to start training Yue Yi again! My main character for years is still my main.]
[I want a pure version of Yue Yi’s segment (not saying the other parts of the promo were bad), and I also want some wallpapers, please!]
[I rewatched that clip over ten times and realized—wow, that’s Chen Bai’s real voice! How does such a skinny guy pack so much power?]
[Yue Yi’s solo fan page just posted the pure version of the video and photos. And here I am, peacefully resting with my new wallpaper and profile picture.]
Around 6 p.m., just in time for dinner, the official social media accounts posted the video and photos, becoming the perfect mealtime entertainment, making fans finish three bowls of rice while watching.
Having found this gem on the official game account, fans eagerly flocked to Chen Bai’s Weibo, hoping for more exclusive content.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything special there. His latest post was just a retweet of the official game account’s post—no exclusive new photos.
While they didn’t get any exclusive content, some eagle-eyed fans noticed that a few pro players who had Yue Yi in their hero pool had quietly started following Chen Bai.
One fan summarized all the recent events and arrived at a short but precise conclusion: “Chen Bai stays quiet, but he’s always up to something. He doesn’t do it often, but when he does, it’s always big.” This comment received a lot of likes.
On the day of the anniversary, Chen Bai was still running around in another game’s map.
Most streamers who played both games had temporarily shifted to streaming the anniversary events, but Chen Bai opted to stick with his “bait” mini-game. His livestream popularity remained steady, and strangely, it even increased a bit.
Recently, he had more free time, so he continued his regular evening sessions with his friend Qingzhou, playing as usual in the pink skin he got from a recent event.
Viewers in his stream speculated that he’d probably keep using this skin for the rest of his life.
And they weren’t wrong—Chen Bai himself admitted that he planned to keep it as his “family heirloom skin,” since it was paid and effective at lowering enemies’ guard.
After tricking some opponents and winning another round, he returned to the main menu instead of starting a new game right away. He scrolled through the barrage of messages, thanking viewers for their gifts. Qingzhou was doing the same on his side.
As he skimmed the messages, his phone lit up beside him. Without missing a beat, he glanced down and picked it up.
It was a business partner asking if he could spare a few minutes for a quick phone call.
He took off his headphones and told Qingzhou to continue without him, telling his stream viewers, “Give me a few minutes.”
With that, he set his headphones aside, disconnected the audio, and stepped out of the room with his phone.
The call came through quickly. His business partner’s voice was a bit muffled, probably because they were outside.
Leaning against the balcony railing, he listened as they discussed some upcoming plans, getting straight to the point. After a brief rundown, his partner asked, “Are you free the day after tomorrow?”
Apparently, the EV team wanted to meet up before they headed abroad for another project. Since their schedule was tight, they wanted to fit the meeting in before leaving.
Chen Bai didn’t have any prior commitments—he had planned to stream, but hadn’t announced anything—so he said he was free.
His agent breathed a sigh of relief and confirmed the meeting for two days later.
The call ended as quickly as it began, with his agent rushing off to handle other matters.
After hanging up, Chen Bai enjoyed a couple of warm summer breezes on the balcony before heading back to his stream.
By then, Qingzhou had already started a new game. Even while Chen Bai was gone, his chat hadn’t quieted down—they were busy speculating about what he’d been up to.
Their guesses became increasingly ridiculous, and by the end, people were saying he’d taken a call from his girlfriend or boyfriend, and the chat was having a lot of fun with it.
Sitting back down, he put on his headphones and reconnected the audio, cutting off the absurd rumors before they got too wild. “It was just a work call. I’ve got a gig lined up in the next couple of days.”
He ruffled his already messy white hair, a result of his headphones, and added, “Plus, dating? Not in my cards right now.”
Laughing, he said, “Who would I even date?”
To be honest, he felt that the earlier speculation—about him scheming to flee abroad with stolen money—was more plausible than the dating rumors.
The chat then exploded with comments about how he already had matching couple skins, and didn’t even need to spend money on them.
Chen Bai had seen these kinds of jokes countless times before and had developed a thick skin, casually ignoring them.
Among the sea of messages, a few mentioned the word “friend,” which raised his eyebrow. Though he didn’t quite understand why people were bringing up his friend at that moment, he still replied, one hand on the mouse and the other propping up his face. Smiling, he said, “That depends if my friend is even interested.”
He continued bantering with his viewers, showing that he could keep up with any joke they threw his way.
As the topic shifted, the stream audience grew curious about this friend of his who was often mentioned but never seen.
Starting a new match, Chen Bai glanced at the chat and responded casually, “My friend? He’s a total hunk.”
He even nodded firmly, adding, “Yeah, very handsome.”
[I won’t believe it until I see him! Show us your friend!]
[Now my curiosity is piqued. @3XL, what does your brother look like? Spill the details!]
[Hold up, 3XL only shows up on weekends. He’s probably stuck at school right now.]
[Is he as handsome as Xu Sunian?]
Chen Bai nodded sincerely. “As handsome as Xu Sunian.”
The viewers in the stream could tell this person was definitely a friend because he was praising him without a hint of hesitation.
After matching with random players, the game began, and the talk of romance and friendships was put aside.
That night, he continued streaming until 2 AM. The next day, because he was going to be out the following day, Chen Bai started streaming early to make up for the time he’d miss.
On the day he was supposed to meet with EV, his manager was already skilled at coming over to dig him out of bed.
Standing by his wardrobe with his messy hair, he randomly picked a light blue two-piece outfit and, still half-asleep, changed into it.
His hair was a mess, and the manager, knowing that fixing it wouldn’t help much, just had him wear a hat and mask so he could go straight out the door.
Chen Bai enjoyed his breakfast in the car, sipping his black coffee after finishing his soy milk. His expression turned a little sour as he took a sip, but it certainly woke him up.
Previously, he’d only gone to EV’s photo studio and met with the magazine’s editor-in-chief. This time, he was meeting with the general manager of EV’s branch in the country, a much bigger deal, and in a different location.
EV’s office was located in the city center near the northern commercial district, occupying an entire high-rise building.
From the car, he could see several buildings standing tall above the rest. The glass on the buildings reflected the rising sun, which was slightly blinding.
As the car drove onto the overpass, he caught a glimpse of some familiar words on a distant building, but as the car turned, whatever he’d seen disappeared.
His manager noticed him looking at the buildings and explained, “There are a lot of big companies headquartered here.”
Remembering something he’d mentioned in passing before, she laughed and said, “That tall building in the middle is where Huo Chuan’s company is. Remember him?”
Chen Bai looked again and nodded. “Yeah, I remember.” After all, he was a “golden goose.”
