Time flew, and it was almost time to go live.
Xiaohan dashed back to her bedroom to pack her things, while Chunan returned to the living room to start his stream.
This world’s development differed greatly from Earth in his past life, especially in one aspect: the internet.
The two worlds had divergent histories. This one hadn’t suffered many wars; modern times were peaceful. Thanks to that stability, technology advanced far faster than before. Nations seemed to pour all their energy into it. History taught of a 24-year global tech race. The result? Wondrous inventions bloomed everywhere, and living standards skyrocketed.
Some tech even surpassed his old Earth’s.
Yet entertainment stayed primitive. The internet had covered the globe earlier, but it was mostly for business. Only in the last decade did people spot its fun potential. The web finally boomed for leisure.
Video games debuted decades ago but remained niche. Folks were too busy marveling at tech-race wonders. The net wasn’t prioritized either. So gaming only took off recently.
Streaming emerged around the same time as games. Rules mirrored celebrity policies—real-name registration, no nicknames on air. Unlike his past world, this was thanks to showbiz spillover. (More on that later.)
Though streaming was old, game streamers were rare. Chunan caught the first wave of success. But his fan growth was slow.
His style was the reason. Most streamers crafted personas to attract followers—a perfect image drew crowds. Chunan couldn’t be bothered.
He figured personas hid the real you. Fans would love the streamer mask, not him. So he stayed authentic. That raw honesty built a small but fiercely loyal fanbase.
Okay, truth was—he was lazy. No time for flashy gimmicks. Just solid content. Tricks might keep fans, but not truly loyal ones.
His streams were simple: play whatever game he liked. No fixed titles. He missed viral game traffic, but his viewers came for him, not the games. If a game died, his popularity wouldn’t crash.
He was happy with that.
He’d announced the stream in his fan group. Now, thousands waited in the chat. He moved his mouse to start—but paused.
On a whim, he swapped his old mic and cam for the perfect ones from his system.
The system was handy. Item rewards appeared instantly when claimed.
Might as well use them.
He rarely used his cam. He knew he wasn’t that handsome. But after taking that makeup pill, he felt a little vain. He turned the cam on and went live.
“Hey, bros,” he said casually. Chat exploded instantly.
[Ooooh! Bro Chu’s finally live!]
[Whoa! Cam on?!]
[Huh? HOLY—Who’s this guy?! SO HOT!]
[Apply to date the streamer!]
[Is Bro Chu using a stand-in?]
…
Chunan grinned at the messages. “Handsome? Tried makeup today. Guess I’m pretty good at it.”
[Wait, YOU did your own makeup?!]
[RIP, I’m obsessed. Date me, Bro Chu?]
…
He rubbed his chin, clearing his throat. “Alright, alright—you’re making me blush… Let’s game.”
Why hadn’t they praised him like this before?
He looked the same.
Lately, he’d been streaming a puzzle game. Today wrapped the final story bits. Tomorrow, a new game. He loved this style. Freshness mattered most—for streamers and viewers. Game streamers needed less gimmicks; each new title was a fresh start.
Of course, they still picked games with strong entertainment value.
This game fit perfectly. Reviews were meh—puzzles were too hard for average players. Without guides, you’d stall for hours. But viewers loved watching him struggle. Chunan welcomed that free comedy.
He was chill. Mocking comments about his “dumb” moments didn’t bother him. Puzzle stalls were perfect for chatting with chat.
That closeness built fan loyalty. Unlike distant stars, streamers felt like friends. Nurturing that vibe boosted retention.
Chunan genuinely saw them as buddies. He’d pick fun topics from chat to discuss.
Like when he spotted a message: [Got dumped today. Heartbroken. Then saw Bro Chu’s still single—suddenly felt better.]
Chunan chuckled. “Good. Why dwell on lovey-dovey stuff? Games are way more fun.”
[Bro Chu’s right.]
[Has Bro Chu ever dated?]
[Nope. Eternal single dog.]
Chunan nodded along. “Seriously. Are games not fun? Action movies not cool? Why date? Single life’s great—no girlfriend moods. So comfy. Or grab a boyfriend! Two houses, two cars, double the fun. Perfect, right?”
Chat flooded with [??????]
Then came the jokes—
[Bro Chu’s an expert. Date me?]
[Bro Chu: Ugh, women, stop bothering my gaming!]
[Bros forever. First to date loses.]
Just as that cleared, Xiaohan burst into the living room. “Chunan! Help!! My computer won’t start!!”
Perfect timing—the cam caught her fully.
The stream chat detonated.
[??????]
[BRO CHU HAS A GIRL?! HOLY—AND SHE’S GORGEOUS?!]
[They live together?!]
[Dude, who just said single life’s great?!]
[RIP the heartbroken guy. Still alive? Call 911?]
[Bro Chu has a GF? Unfollowing.]
[Streamer made me uncomfortable. Ban him.]
[Hey random girl—move! You’re blocking the streamer behind you.]
…
