But right now, Chu Nan’s viewers weren’t focused on that detail—

【OMG THEY’RE HOLDING HANDS!!!】

【Bro Chu’s so smooth—now he’s got the perfect excuse to hold her hand!】

【Pro tip for Bro Chu: Tonight, just say you roll out of bed alone too easily. Suggest sharing a bed!】

【Ugh, I’m so jealous. I wish I had a childhood friend to hold hands with too.】

【Wahhh why must I eat dog food? I just came to watch a gaming expo!】

…

Fortunately, Chu Nan held the phone displaying the live comments, so Xiao Han didn’t notice them. Otherwise, her expression would’ve turned even more awkward.

Chu Nan saw the comments too but merely chuckled, making no effort to explain. He knew his fans’ antics better than anyone—trying to clarify would only dig him deeper. Best to just roll with their wild theories. After all, no amount of fanfiction could change his actual relationship with Xiao Han.

After nearly losing her once, Xiao Han stayed much closer for the rest of the morning. Though Chu Nan had told her to stop whenever she spotted something interesting, the expo’s main events hadn’t started yet. Most booths only showcased previews for upcoming games, which held little appeal for her. She simply followed Chu Nan quietly.

By noon, after they’d circled the entire convention center, Chu Nan suggested lunch.

The expo sat in the city center, right beside a bustling pedestrian street. Already crowded on ordinary days, the area now swarmed with even more visitors. Xiao Han stared, wide-eyed. “So… many people…”

Chu Nan shot her a sidelong glance.

This crowd was nothing compared to Spring Festival travel rushes in his past life—barely a fingertip’s worth of chaos. Even in this world, it hardly counted as a “big scene.” Xiao Han was overreacting.

But he understood. Her sheltered upbringing in a sleepy third-tier city had spared her from intense experiences like this massive expo.

Perhaps that small-town life had shaped her simple nature—or, to put it kindly, her innocence. Chu Nan actually liked that about her.

After tasting the cold indifference of big cities, many longed for the warmth of small-town humanity. He recalled a saying from his past life: *Big cities can’t hold your body; small towns can’t hold your soul.* A contradiction between ways of life. This world might be slightly better, but not by much.

Some might call it an exception or cite rare cases, but based on his past experiences, Chu Nan felt it deeply.

He aimed for a first-tier city career, yet dreaded ending up friendless again like last time—even with a hundred thousand followers, none were true companions.

Xiao Han filled that void.

With her, he felt… like home.

He couldn’t define it precisely. Only that when alone together, he slipped back into the carefree ease of his childhood—a feeling reserved solely for the friend who’d grown up beside him.

He cherished it.

Over the years, he’d looked after Xiao Han often. But hadn’t she quietly looked after him too?

Even in ways she didn’t realize.

That was enough for him.

So though he often… well, teased her (cough), he’d never disliked or looked down on her—not even when she acted recklessly in front of him.

Like now, gawking at the crowd like a country bumpkin.

Unusually, Chu Nan didn’t mock her. “What do you want to eat? My treat today.”

“Anything?” Xiao Han’s attention snapped to him instantly.

“Yeah.”

“I want the Family Bucket!”

“…Can you even finish it alone?”

“If I can’t, you’ll help me, right?”

“…”

Chu Nan sighed but led her to buy the bucket anyway.

The livestream was still running. Seeing their interaction, the chat exploded again—

【I’m done for—Bro Chu’s spoiling her too hard!】

【Heartbroken. Bro Chu’s taken. Guess I can’t ship him anymore.】

【Does Mrs. Chu love Family Buckets too? I love them! I’ll hug my bucket while Bro Chu hugs his wife.】

【Seriously though—when’s the wedding?】

…

Chu Nan glanced at the comments, smiling faintly. “That’s all for now. We’re eating lunch. Stream resumes at 2 PM.”

He ended the broadcast without waiting for replies.

The fast-food joint was packed, the line nearly spilling onto the street. No VIP treatment this time. Xiao Han grabbed a table while Chu Nan queued for ages to get the bucket.

Just as he set the tray down in front of her, she thrust his phone forward, eyes gleaming. “Chu Nan! Someone’s looking for you!”

While he’d been in line, Xiao Han had borrowed his phone to check the stream. He hadn’t minded—she might pull silly stunts, but she never messed with serious matters. He trusted her on that.

The notification was a private message.

His livestream platform manager, Cheng Xiao, handled all business inquiries. A no-nonsense career woman with a sharp reputation among streamers, she usually messaged unless it was urgent. This clearly wasn’t.

“Dawn Entertainment wants to meet me?” Chu Nan frowned slightly, then called her back.

“Sis Cheng, about that message—what’s the situation? Dawn Entertainment reached out?”

“Yeah. Probably saw that music video you posted.” Cheng Xiao’s voice was crisp. “But they didn’t mention contracts—just want to chat. Call them back to check details.” She paused. “Don’t get your hopes up. If they were serious about signing, they’d discuss terms upfront. ‘Just chatting’ usually means they’re still vetting you. I’m no music expert, but your video was solid. Dawn’s a good company, but don’t fixate on them. For music, a small label that values you beats a giant ignoring you.”

Chu Nan was silent for two seconds. “Got it. I’ll contact them later.”