Chapter 96 – Post-Match Livestream
Fans who had once believed they were left hanging for months at a time suddenly felt at peace with the world, as though everything made sense again.
After finishing his work, Chen Bai started a late-night livestream to chat with fans. Sometimes, Xu Sinian would even join him. This was something fans now realized they had been experiencing as a luxury without knowing it.
[Chen Yi Bai, are you really working nonstop?!]
[Always around, huh? Even when Chen Er Bai started his streams, Neighbor Bro was already there. So, you’ve known each other this long, and you never mentioned that Neighbor Bro was Xu Sinian!]
[So the first person to ship Xu Sinian and Yi Bai was sister Qing! Such great taste!]
[Wait, 3XL is Xu Sinian’s brother? And Xu Sinian is Neighbor Bro… 3XL, you never mentioned that your brother was Xu Sinian!]
[The luckiest little brother on earth, having Xu Sinian as a brother, plus Chen Yi Bai as a buddy. What good deeds did you do in a past life?]
On this seemingly uneventful day, Er Bai’s fans were suddenly struck by the foresight of Yu Shui Ri Qing and the brilliance of 3XL.
Chen Yi Bai’s seemingly ordinary social media account was flooded with a wave of new followers, who began revisiting his past content with a new perspective. Fans finally started noticing all the subtle details that had been there all along.
[So many of his notifications show dining tables, and so many of his pictures show two sets of dishes. Living close to each other really is convenient, huh? What do you think, Neighbor Bro?]
[He moved once, but they still ended up as neighbors. I thought that was just a coincidence… but now it’s clear it wasn’t! Neighbor Bro, were you up to something?]
[Good news: my ship has become canon. Bad news: one of them is my wife (closes eyes)]
[Looking back at old videos, it’s over, I’ve lost my wife. Even Xu Sinian has a key to Yi Bai’s house. How can anyone compete with that? [crying cat face.jpg]]
That afternoon, the finals between the remaining teams took place, and Chen Yi Bai stayed to watch, sitting in the audience for a while. When the winning team lifted the trophy, he clapped along with the crowd.
After the match, his tough day at work finally came to an end. Backstage, he practically floated into his chair.
He didn’t leave immediately. Some staff and team members approached for autographs, and he signed a few, even taking a couple of photos. The room bustled with people coming and going until, as it neared time to leave, the crowd slowly thinned out.
After taking a photo with the final team’s players, Chen Yi Bai returned the pen he had used for signing autographs to his manager.
He still had some things left in the break room, and Li Qingzhou, after watching the match, had also gone back to his own room for a while. All the break rooms were in the same hallway, and the door to his room wasn’t fully closed, allowing him to hear the constant noise from the hallway.
It wasn’t clear how long he waited, but eventually, the sounds in the hallway quieted down. Slinging a shoulder bag over his back, he put his phone in his pocket, picked up the bouquet on the table, and walked out of the room.
The door to the break room diagonally across from him was ajar. As he got closer, he could faintly hear people talking inside.
A figure in pink was curled up in a chair, looking down at their phone. With a push off the floor, the chair spun halfway around. The person looked up at their manager standing nearby and said, “I’m not going back to the complex after work tomorrow.”
“To your friend’s place?”
“Yeah,” the person smiled, their messy hair framing a pair of crescent-shaped eyes. “He’s coming back tomorrow.”
As soon as he said this, as if noticing something, he glanced toward the door, his eyes widening slightly before he smiled and waved. “Zhou.”
He then looked at the bouquet and asked, “What’s that?”
He was the type to smile a lot—he’d smile when he got something he wanted, when he saw something funny, and when he saw his friends.
“I made it,” Li Qingzhou said. “I haven’t really learned how to do it, so it’s not as good as my sister’s work.”
He casually removed a small card filled with words from the bouquet and slipped it into his pocket. Li Qingzhou smiled and said, “I’m still your fan, after all.”
Just being a regular fan was enough.
Compared to other fans, he was also a friend—and that was already plenty.
Due to various considerations, Chen Yi Bai no longer accepted flowers from fans outside of work, but he could still accept flowers from friends.
The bouquet was beautiful, with unique colors that resembled the hues of a sunset. At first glance, it was as if he was looking at an evening sky.
Noticing the bag on Li Qingzhou’s back, indicating he was about to leave, Chen Yi Bai hugged the bouquet and waved at him, saying, “Let’s play together again in a couple of days.”
Mentioning gaming brought up some sad memories, and the brief moment of joy was shattered. Chen Yi Bai couldn’t hold back and wiped his face.
Li Qingzhou had been mimicking his wave but couldn’t help but laugh. In the midst of suppressing his laughter, he finally managed to say goodbye.
The championship team left with their glory, and the audience cleared out. The summer tournament that had lasted a month came to a close.
In the evening, during peak traffic hours, the organizers formally announced the winning team and the rankings of the other teams. They tagged the champion team, the sponsors, and the two special guests.
It was supposed to be a routine, procedural announcement, but a staff member accidentally tagged Chen Er Bai instead of Chen Yi Bai.
The mistake was quickly noticed and corrected, with the tag changed to @ChenYi Bai, and the message was resent. However, some eagle-eyed fans had already captured screenshots of the original post.
[Haha, was this on purpose or an accident? Chen Yi Bai’s really going to break, hahaha]
[Why is everyone else reposting this, but Chen Yi Bai hasn’t, hahaha]
[Chen Yi Bai’s slip of the tongue is funny enough, but @ChenErbai as a special guest? 1000% funnier!]
[Haha, give him a break! Yi Bai’s been trying so hard today; he even resisted playing his favorite baiting mini-game!]
His little side hustle had been discovered. After the release of his film on the 33rd, Chen Yi Bai had once again sworn off his phone.
But it only lasted half a day. By the afternoon, he had turned his phone back on right on time to take a call from his friendly neighbor and head home together after work. Once home, he faced a barrage of questions from Chen Yi Bai.
With university students on break, it was rare for the whole family to be together.
It was a pleasant day, and in the midst of chatting, Chen Yi Bai suddenly remembered he had promised to stream the next day when he finished work.
At 9 p.m., Madam Jiang and Mr. Xu, always firm in their commitment to health, went to bed. The night owl, feeling that the world wasn’t all that great anyway, also went to bed early for a change.
The price of going to bed early was waking up early.
The next day, at 7 a.m., sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains, casting a bright stripe on the floor. The person in bed turned over and opened their eyes wide, like saucers.
Once awake, he couldn’t fall back asleep. With his hair a mess, Chen Yi Bai got up to wash.
Yi Wan, who had slept with him, woke up too. As Chen Bai washed up, the dog circled around his feet, drooling, just short of speaking.
With a toothbrush in his mouth, Chen Bai first opened the door to let the dog downstairs for breakfast.
The sound of Yi Wan’s footsteps quickly faded. Chen Bai turned his attention back to the bathroom, spat out the foam in his mouth, washed his face, and pulled out his phone to check an app he only opened when absolutely necessary.
He was still logged into Chen Er Bai’s account. Both his messages and notifications had little red dots, all reading 999+, impossible to miss.
A man of his word, Chen Bai had promised a livestream today. Ignoring his mild toothache, he quickly typed out a message announcing the stream’s time, then promptly turned off his phone.
After finishing his morning routine and heading downstairs, he thought he had gotten up pretty early, but it turned out that everyone else in the family was already awake—except for Xu younger brother, who had stayed up all night and was still fast asleep.
Even his neighbor, who had just returned from abroad and should have been jet-lagged, was awake.
Madam Jiang and Mr. Xu didn’t have work that day, and after breakfast, they planned to take their beloved dog, Yi Wan, out for a walk.
Ever since they got Yi Wan, they were always complimented on how cute their “grandchild” was every time they went out, and they had gradually made bringing the dog along a habit.
Watching the two of them leave with Yi Wan, Chen Bai finally withdrew his gaze when the door closed.
His neighbor turned to him and asked, “Did you sleep with Yi Wan again last night?”
Leaning back in his chair, Chen took a sip of his soy milk and nodded with a smile. “Yi Wan is really comfortable to cuddle with.”
He was big, soft, and perfect for snuggling or resting your arm on while sleeping. As he swallowed another sip of soy milk, Chen Bai added, “I think I’ll be sleeping with him for the rest of my life.”
Xu Sinian “……”
Xu Sinian didn’t respond this time, quietly reaching up to remove a white strand of fuzz tangled in Chen Bai’s hair.
Chen Bai lowered his head, letting his neighbor do his thing. After Xu Sinian’s hand left his head, Chen Bai gulped down his drink, wiped his mouth, and then headed upstairs with a quick goodbye.
He had a livestream to get to.
It was Sunday, and by the afternoon, most people who had rested enough were probably awake. The evening would be the peak traffic time, but mornings were better for what he had in mind.
Mornings were good—there were fewer viewers.
Returning to his room, where he had done several streams before, he had everything set up and ready to go. All he had to do was sit down and turn on his computer.
Chen Bai had a clear idea of his role—he was a gaming streamer. As he booted up his computer, he messaged his friend, Qingzhou.
Qingzhou usually streamed in the evenings, but he was available to play in the morning as well and replied with an “OK.”
With his friend ready and the time approaching, Chen Bai opened his livestreaming software, fine-tuned the settings, adjusted the camera, and once everything looked good, he hit the “Start Stream” button.
It wasn’t just his imagination—this carefully chosen time didn’t seem great either. The chat in the bottom left corner was moving slower than usual. It wasn’t that there were fewer comments; the stream was lagging a bit due to the sudden influx of viewers.
Ignoring the lag for now, Chen greeted the audience as usual.
[Hello, Chen Yibai! I’m Chen Sanbai, a relative of Chen Erbai]
[Hahaha, Erbai, you really keep your promises! You said you’d stream, and here you are]
[Still no face reveal! Are you really going to keep hiding forever? (Wide-eyed)]
[I worked all day yesterday and only saw the trending topic this morning… who can understand me! I actually believed Erbai when he said he didn’t show his face because he wasn’t good-looking! Chen Erbai, tell me that again with a straight face!]
[New fan here, where is this? Haven’t seen this place before.]
The new fan, who had always been a Yibai fan, had spent the previous day catching up on old stream recordings but hadn’t finished yet. They found this new location unfamiliar.
A few viewers in the chat explained the situation, and since this was the easiest question to answer among all the others, Chen Bai replied simply, “This is my friend’s place. I come here to hang out when I’m taking a break.”
The older viewers didn’t know who this “friend” was, only that it was probably his neighbor. Now, with the pieces coming together, they immediately knew who he was talking about.
[No wonder you’ve always praised your friend for being handsome! If Xu Sinian isn’t handsome, then who is?]
[Yibai has already been lured home. Everyone here, let’s give up any secret hopes [smoking.gif]]
[Is your friend home today? [cat peeking.gif]]
[I remember it took ages for us to figure out that the friend Yibai kept mentioning was Xu Sinian. Turns out Xu Sinian has a new nickname now—Neighbor! We were kept in the dark for so long (eyes closed)]
“He’s home,” Chen Bai said as he smoothly entered the game. “But he just got back from overseas, so he’s probably resting.”
The game loaded, and Chen Bai joined a voice chat with Qingzhou.
Qingzhou usually only streamed in the evenings. Today, he was just playing for fun, not streaming, so the viewers couldn’t see his expressions, but they could probably guess what kind of mood he was in.
[Well, looks like this meetup turned into a full-blown fanboy moment! You must be thrilled!]
[Qingzhou never wakes up this early to play games. Yibai is his motivation (pointing)]
[I’m feeling all sorts of emotions right now. I used to be a diehard Yibai-Zhou shipper, but then Qingzhou liked Chen Yibai, and now I’m learning that Yibai has a neighbor like Xu Sinian. I gave up! Today, I found out Chen Yibai and Chen Erbai are the same person, and while I’m happy, I also remembered that Neighbor is Xu Sinian.]
Once the game started, Chen Bai stopped reading the chat.
As long as the camera was off and his face wasn’t visible, he was still the diligent gaming streamer, Chen Erbai.
Winning four rounds in a row yesterday was routine for him. Today, playing on his own account, he was in the higher-ranked matches, and things still looked easy.
Fans who didn’t play games couldn’t follow along, but they enjoyed watching the smooth gameplay nonetheless. Some of them hadn’t known what being a top-tier gaming streamer meant until now. They’d thought his four consecutive wins yesterday might’ve been luck, but after watching several rounds, they finally understood why a streamer who disappeared for months and came back could still rise to the top of the popularity charts.
Most of the time, the hands that usually held a script or a pen were now tapping skillfully on a black keyboard—thin, pale fingers moving with strength. The keyboard had blue switches, each press sounding crisp and clear.
After several matches, he won again, and the “winner, winner, chicken dinner” screen appeared. Chen Bai leaned back in his chair, flexing his slightly stiff wrists.
Qingzhou had something to take care of and had temporarily left, turning the next portion of the stream into a chat session. Chen Bai finally had time to glance at the chat again.
The chat… was asking about his keyboard brand.
Normally, Chen Bai would’ve just told them, but today was a bit different. He wasn’t just Chen Erbai anymore, so he said, “My uncle bought this for me, so I’m not sure.”
The viewers took a moment to process and realized that this “uncle” probably referred to a certain friend’s father.
[I remember hearing about Auntie Jiang before but never figured it out… so you’ve known the parents for a while, and the relationship’s solid!]
[This isn’t a fair fight! No wonder no one’s tried to date Chen Yi Bai in all these years! You can’t win in this situation!]
[This gift was totally tailored to his taste! Even that pajama set was great—it had little dogs that Yibai likes. So thoughtful! I approve of this relationship!]
Chen Bai glanced at the changing messages in the bottom left corner. He reached for his headset, intending to grab his water cup, only to realize he’d left it downstairs after finishing his soy milk. He sighed and lowered his hand back down.
When he looked up again, he didn’t see the previous messages, but he did catch the latest one complimenting Aunt Jiang’s choice of pajamas with the little dog on them. Leaning back in his chair, he thought for a moment and said, “That set was actually bought by Old Xu. You’d have to ask him about it.”
He had only learned about this when his neighbor Xu Sinian, now his boyfriend-in-waiting, mentioned it during a conversation.
The master of balance thought for another moment before adding, “Aunt Jiang’s picks are also really nice.”
With that, he successfully balanced the scales.
[Such a cute little dog, Xu Sinian really knows your taste, doesn’t he!]
[So does Yi Bai know by now that the flowers he got after the variety show weren’t from the production team?]
“Flowers?”
Chen Bai still remembered the flowers from that time, just because they were beautiful. Leaning his head on one hand, his eyes slightly lifted. “Weren’t they from the production team?”
A helpful viewer quickly pulled up a screenshot from the show, highlighting the two simple flowers that were supposed to be on the gift box from the director.
Those were the original flowers.
Not exactly the same, but clearly unrelated.
Before the viewers had time to explain, he had just clicked on the image when there was a knock at the door—two soft but clear knocks.
Since he wasn’t gaming at the moment, and there was no sound in his headphones, he heard the knock clearly. Turning his head, he called out, “Come in.”
The one who entered was none other than Old Xu, dressed in gray loungewear, holding a water cup and a plate of fruit. As he approached, he placed the fruit on the desk and handed Chen Bai the cup.
The cup was a custom piece from Yi Wan’s 3rd birthday, one for every family member, featuring a cute pink ear design. Chen Bai admired it for a moment, growing more satisfied the longer he looked at it, before finally taking a big gulp from the cup.
Halfway through the water, he set the cup down and looked up. “Why aren’t you resting?”
Jet lag wasn’t easy to shake off, and Chen Bai thought Xu Sinian would have gone back to bed after breakfast.
Xu Sinian replied that he was fine and didn’t need to rest. Chen Bai gave him a quick look, seeing that he really did seem fine, and nodded. Casually, he brought up the flowers from the variety show and glanced at the screen. “They’re saying those flowers weren’t from the production team.”
Xu Sinian looked at the screen, saw the image, and nodded. “I sent them. I thought you’d like them.”
Chen Bai did like them—he had even pressed them into a bookmark.
The fact that the renowned actor admitted it so easily left the viewers, who had been eavesdropping, momentarily stunned.
[Wait, Xu Sinian, how can you just admit it like that? Weren’t you pretending they were from the production team when you gave them to him?]
[Bro, I think I just lost my chance with my crush [stunned.jpg]]
[Oh no, we helped him admit the truth without even meaning to!]
[So are you really not going to turn on the camera? Let us see the live scene, please!]
[I’m different—I’m more interested in that cup! Where’s Yi Wan? I want to see the little dog!]
Another old story was exposed, but Chen Bai didn’t say much. He simply stabbed a piece of fruit with his fork, handed it to his good neighbor, and sent him back to rest.
The door softly closed again. Watching the door shut, Chen Bai refocused on the screen just in time to see a new comment, so he replied, “Yi Wan went out with my uncle and aunt. They’ll probably be back around noon. I’ll show you when they return.”
After chatting for a couple more minutes, Qingzhou returned from his phone call, and the game continued.
Today, Chen Bai got to play a baiting mini-game that he had been eager to try. It had great mechanics, and he won another round. The “winner, winner, chicken dinner” screen popped up, and the bottom left corner of the screen was flooded with gift notifications.
He had only glanced away for a little while, but now a flood of gifts had piled up, far surpassing his usual earnings, and he was sitting at the top of the platform’s leaderboard. Instead of starting another match, he quickly stopped and moved his mouse to find the button to turn off the gift feature.
After searching for a while and with some remote guidance from Qingzhou, he finally found the button and clicked it.
