Jiang Juan piled storage boxes, makeup cases, and clutter onto the bed first. Then he dragged the live streaming stand from beside the walk-in closet to behind the gaming chair.

His backdrop was pure white curtains draped with vine-like string lights. Star-shaped bulbs dotted them sparsely.

Jiang Juan secured the stand, switched indoor lights to warm tones, and powered the star lights. He moved the small desk chair to the curtains, placing a teddy bear on it.

“Almost forgot—I’m singing today.” Jiang Juan approached the curtains, left hand gripping the drape, right hand shielding his head carefully.

Messy hair was such a hassle. His thoughts drifted to the dorm hallway incident.

“If someone messed with my hair like that, I’d smash his head in.”

The curtains closed, then parted moments later. A black guitar case slid out first. A slender, well-defined hand reached through. Jiang Juan stepped out cautiously.

He leaned the case against the desk, sighed in relief. The space felt elegant and fresh—perfect for his “girl” persona.

One stand, one curtain. Left: a minimalist black-and-white boy’s bedroom. Right: a fresh, Japanese-style girl’s bedroom. Live streams only show what streamers want you to see.

Jiang Juan sat at the gaming chair, typed his password, and launched the streaming app. He tweaked the beauty filter slightly. Confident in his cross-dressing, but who’d refuse looking better?

He streamed League of Legends—a hot game with fierce competition. Skill-focused streamers, chill companionship types, trash-talking masters… something for everyone.

Earning real money here was tough. What made a stream work?

Streaming, but not just streaming.

What was its core? What did viewers crave? To Jiang Juan, step one: find your position. Define your persona. Enrich it. Make viewers feel your “authenticity.”

Step two: they needn’t know your real self—only believe you’re exactly who they see.

Step three: target the audience. Most League players were under thirty, mostly male. So his persona? Skilled gamer. Faceless. A long-legged girl who loved singing.

Common online, sure. But he didn’t chase stardom. Loyal fans meant steady income.

Jiang Juan framed the camera below his lace choker. No face shown—too risky.

Yet he never skipped makeup. Sometimes he’d “casually” step away from the chair, flashing a glimpse of profile or face. Chat would explode. That song went: “What you can’t have always stirs desire.” Humans were like that.

He checked the screen time: 5:51 PM. Logged into the game. Adjusted settings. 5:58 PM.

Left hand on keyboard. Right hand tapping a rhythm. Softly humming a Jay Chou tune.

Viewers already waited. Comments scrolled:

“Wife! I’m here—open up!”

“Where’s the cat? Late again.”

“Day off? It’s 6:03 PM. Where are you?”

“Sorry for the wait. I’ll wake her now.”

Jiang Juan checked his Alipay balance, scrolled Weibo. At 6:13 PM, he put the phone down, connected the stream, and activated the feed.

“Video’s on! Wife’s here!”

“Baby, you’re late.”

“Making us wait? Can’t be punctual, why stream?”

“Headless streamer? Where’s your head?”

“Sorry, sorry! Can you hear me? Stream glitch—I just fixed it. Family, truly sorry for the delay.” Jiang Juan clasped his hands, voice sweet, leaning forward slightly. Black lace coiled around his fair neck, utterly eye-catching.

For today’s stream, he chose the chat’s most popular opening.