"What's gotten into you just now?" Zhang Ning asked, bare-chested, walking while drying his hair with a towel.

"Bro Zhang, just let me be," Guyen said, eyes closed, head tilted back slightly as if zoning out.

Zhang Ning froze mid-motion, staring at Guyen as if he'd seen a ghost. He hurried over to Zhao Zhuoyang and slapped his shoulder hard. "Did you record that? Did you record it?"

"Pants! Pants! At least put on some underwear before coming over," Zhao Zhuoyang pushed Zhang Ning's arm away, his face twisted in disgust.

"Hahaha, feeling insecure?"

The noisy chatter of the two below reached Guyen's ears, only to dissipate like the wind. His mind was now filled with memories of his past interactions with Lazy-Eared Cat.

Especially that afternoon: Lazy-Eared Cat in a yellow crew-neck T-shirt, the lace at his neck trembling slightly as he asked in a sweet, clear voice, "Bro Guyen, Bro Guyen, are you there?" So delicate, so soft.

Next, flashes of images crossed his mind—dreams from that night, some indescribable, explicit fantasies.

In the dream, the girl's voice was soft and coquettish, her body fluid like water as she collapsed beneath him, cooing "Bro Guyen." The blurry face gradually sharpened into an aloof, cold visage, with lake-blue eyes gazing at him calmly.

*Slap!* The sound was so loud and forceful that the two below stopped their horseplay.

*Slap, slap, slap.* As if still unsatisfied, Guyen slapped himself hard several times.

"Seriously, are you setting off firecrackers for Chinese New Year here?" Zhang Ning said, exasperated, watching Guyen's bizarre performance.

Guyen's face contorted. His left hand clutched at the air, while his right fist pounded his thigh a few times. Finally, he buried his head under the blanket, wriggling on the bed like a maggot.

That day, Guyen deeply felt the cruelty of society, bearing pressures not meant for someone his age.

...

"Drink more wine, let the wind blow more, can it set me free?" Jiang Juan gently plucked the guitar strings, his soothing voice floating out, completely unaware his true identity had already been exposed in someone's eyes.

"Nice."

"Promise me, with such a good voice, just use it for eating, okay?"

"Cat-treasure, sing 'Learn to Meow' later, okay?"

After finishing the song, Jiang Juan rested the guitar on his lap. "'Learn to Meow'? I can't sing that, but I can meow like a cat for everyone."

"Meow, meow-meow~" Jiang Juan raised his left hand, placing it near his neck and shoulder, his hand slightly arched. His tender white nails brushed against the black lace, radiating indescribable cuteness.

*Cough, cough, cough.* Guyen, who had calmed down outside the screen, coughed a few times.

On both his cheeks, he placed the popsicles "Bro Zhang" had just bought downstairs. The icy cold seeped through the plastic wrappers, bringing a trace of comfort to his swollen, red face.

"This recording, I'll take it to my grave when I'm old," Zhang Ning said, a popsicle dangling from his mouth, half his body leaning against the railing of Guyen's bed.

"Fine, fine, whatever you want," Guyen replied casually.

"Still watching that female streamer? Seriously, those legs are incredible," Zhang Ning said as he jumped down the ladder and walked to the desk.

"Don't bring him up again. I'm doing this for your own good," Guyen said, eyebrows slightly raised as he looked at Zhang Ning, with an air of being the only sober one in a crowd of drunkards.

"Oh, oh, oh, look at this possessiveness. I get it, I get it. A friend's wife is off-limits."

"Don't block the light," Zhao Zhuoyang said, tossing the leftover stick into the trash can, ready to continue reading.

Guyen didn't speak again. For some things, he had already done his best.

"So desperate," Guyen thought. He really couldn't connect Lazy-Eared Cat on the screen with Jiang Juan.

With one hand holding the popsicle, his head resting sideways on the pillow, long legs slanted over the railing, he recalled Jiang Juan's "resume."

Since entering Jiayuan Middle School in junior high, he'd been the "perfect child"—always first in academics, always receiving the most scholarships, inevitably hosting every major school event.

Junior high student council president. Freshman year representative. Sophomore year student council president. Voted Jiayuan's campus heartthrob on the school forum. From an excellent family background—his father had even donated to the school.

So why was he cross-dressing for live streams? Guyen fell into deep thought.

"Definitely not for money," he finally concluded.