Chapter 3

Late-night streams lived up to their reputation. The lighting dimmed, the music grew hazy and seductive, and Xu Yueliang fully immersed herself in the performance. It didn’t feel like a livestream at all.

It was more like a mysterious welcome ritual, the gateway to a dazzling yet perilous otherworldly realm. At the entrance stood the most enchanting dancer, every movement teasing the heartstrings, every glance heavy with unspoken invitation that pulled viewers deeper into a trance.

The chat had gone wild, overflowing with crude outbursts of frenzied admiration: 【I’m done】【I really can’t anymore】【Standing ovation】…

Lin Qimian closed the chat window, and the world fell blissfully quiet.

Now, all she saw was this unfamiliar side of Xu Yueliang.

Nothing like the girl etched in her memories.

The stream ran until two in the morning. When Xu Yueliang waved goodbye to her audience, she was still bursting with energy.

Lin Qimian’s neck ached, her eyes burned.

The phone screen went dark. She leaned back into her chair, eyes closed for a brief rest, then grabbed her bag and headed upstairs.

That night, Lin Qimian barely slept. Her mind replayed Xu Yueliang’s swaying figure over and over.

No full storyline, just vivid fragments: Xu Yueliang in her school uniform, running hand-in-hand with classmates; sneaking outside the classroom to devour an ice cream cone; slipping a pink letter into Lin Qimian’s desk drawer; dressed in a cat-eared maid outfit, asking with a playful grin, “Are you an adult yet?”

Lin Qimian opened her eyes. Morning light flooded through the window. Her chest felt hollow, her heart pounding fiercely, as if she’d endured an endless all-nighter.

Her phone held messages from the hospital, notifying her of an exchange conference in B City over the next two days. There were also a flood of early-morning texts from Huang Xiaoyi, updating her on the fallout from Zhao Beibei and Cheng Feng’s blowup yesterday.

Nothing shocking. Zhao Beibei had gone through Cheng Feng’s phone and found flirty messages to countless streamers, influencers, and bit-part actresses. Every one started the same way: “Stick with bro, and you’ll blow up in no time.”

She and Cheng Feng had a massive fight, and she’d packed up and left their shared apartment that very night. Huang Xiaoyi’s final take: 【She’s got her head on straight. Guess I can pass along your advice now.】

A little later came two more messages: 【Those poor girls, duped by this so-called director who’s nothing but scum. As if he could actually make anyone famous.】

【Who knows how many he’s screwed over. I really want to expose him.】

Lin Qimian jolted fully awake. She backed out of WeChat and opened Orange Live.

She still remembered Cheng Feng’s username. His profile was now completely locked down—no info visible.

Lin Qimian scrolled through “Little Moon’s” fan rankings instead. Fifty on the monthly leaderboard, twenty on the all-time. No trace of Cheng Feng anywhere.

That sharply lowered the odds of Xu Yueliang being one of his targets. At least based on the numbers, she wasn’t a priority mark.

Lin Qimian breathed a little easier.

She got up, freshened up, and slipped into the hospital one minute before clock-in.

Youhai Stomatology was S City’s top dental clinic, handling outsourced work from major public hospitals. But as a fully private outfit, the doctors weren’t run ragged, and management was relaxed. The occasional late arrival or early departure never made it onto the official attendance record.

So when Lin Qimian hurriedly swiped her badge at the time clock, Doctor Fang, passing by, chuckled. “Why not come in through the south gate?”

“Made it in time.” Lin Qimian glanced at her watch. “Right on the dot.”

Fang Huizhen’s eyes swept from her head to her toes. “Little Lin, you seem a bit off today.”

Lin Qimian looked down at herself. Her shirt was slightly rumpled, the seam on her skirt askew, a smudge of dust on her shoes that she hadn’t wiped off.

Xu Yueliang had thrown off her schedule—and her usually impeccable routine.

Lin Qimian’s fingertips twitched faintly. She looked up with a gentle smile. “Probably because I haven’t changed into my scrubs yet.”

Fang Huizhen smiled and let it drop, turning instead to shop talk.

They were doctors in the same department, swapping notes on tricky cases or amusing anecdotes.

Most of the time, Lin Qimian just listened. She was an exceptional listener, never butting in unless it mattered.

Fang Huizhen grinned. “Got a call first thing this morning from a patient booking a tooth extraction for tomorrow.”

“I doubt it’ll fly. This girl’s a character. Half a month ago, she came in for wisdom tooth inflammation and got an X-ray. The second I said it had to come out, she burst into tears.

“Crying all the while as she booked the appointment with me. I told her to come back once the inflammation cleared and she wasn’t on her period. Last Tuesday, in she walks—mouth in perfect shape for surgery.

“When I went to place the order, she bolted, claiming she had something urgent. Her legs were shaking so badly she could barely walk out, like chaff in the wind.”

Fang Huizhen sighed and turned to Lin Qimian. “Sigh, what do you do with patients like that? Tooth extraction is nothing—a shot of anesthetic, and they feel zero pain.”

“Mm.” Lin Qimian murmured in response.

Fang Huizhen went on. “I heard she’s some little celebrity, an internet streamer. The intern I was supervising said he’d watched her live streams.”

“Live streams?” Lin Qimian picked up the thread.

Rare to see her even mildly curious, Fang Huizhen elaborated. “Yeah, she’s gorgeous. Timid as a mouse, sure, but no diva attitude—very polite.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard of her, but even those kids knew who she was. Easy name to remember: Moon…”

Lin Qimian halted mid-stride.

Fang Huizhen snapped her fingers. “What’s her family name again… oh, my memory…”

“Xu,” Lin Qimian supplied.

Fang Huizhen clapped her hands. “Right, Xu! So you know her too. She must have some real fame then.”

Lin Qimian shut her eyes, a piercing draft howling past her ears and leaving her mind in a daze.

When someone departs your world, they can vanish without a trace, as if they’d never existed at all.

But when they return, it’s from every direction at once—overwhelming, inescapable. Every coincidence converges, and suddenly she’s everywhere.

The rest of their walk passed in silence; nothing Doctor Fang said could recapture Lin Qimian’s attention.

Once inside the lounge, Lin Qimian opened her locker and stared at the white coat hanging there for a long moment before finally taking it out and slipping it on.

She tied back her hair and perched a pair of gold-rimmed, non-prescription glasses on her nose—accessories that reliably boosted her patients’ trust in her youthful face.

Work was calling. No more thoughts of Xu Yueliang.

The Maxillofacial Department’s outpatient load was heavy that day, crammed with consultations and a handful of minor surgeries. They didn’t break for lunch until after noon.

The lounge filled with young staffers who’d ordered a massive spread to share. They ate and chatted amiably.

Peng Xiaoshuai was the new intern under Doctor Fang—handsome fellow with a bubbly personality. He’d already won over the department’s nurses.

“Teacher Fang is the best—she always lets me take time off when I need it. But tomorrow? Nothing doing. My goddess is coming in.”

The nurses gasped, hands over their mouths. “The one who freaked out and cried last time?”

“That’s her.” Peng Xiaoshuai’s grin lit up the room. “She’s got a real phobia thing going on. Super adorable, though.”

“Adorable’s right—and way too pretty. How do her eyes get that big?”

“You could still tell they were huge even swollen from crying.”

“Swollen ones are bigger than mine! All fluttery, with those long, thick, jet-black lashes. I thought it was makeup at first, but then she was bawling with snot and tears everywhere—total natural beauty.”

“Peng Xiaoshuai, you’ve got good taste.”

He whipped out his phone. “Gotta be. She’s my treasure streamer—the one who trended for that dance video. Any of you have the Orange Live app? Hit follow for my goddess…”

A sharp click echoed from the inner room—the sound of a locker door shutting.

The lively chatter died instantly. Peng Xiaoshuai craned his neck to peer inside, lowering his voice. “Someone’s in there…”

“Sounds like Teacher Lin. I saw her head in when I came.”

No one dared make a peep.

Lin Qimian was the department’s youngest and most beautiful doctor, yet she kept her distance from the group.

She was gentle and approachable with patients, courteous and respectful with colleagues. Her credentials were impeccable, her work ethic unmatched. Perhaps her perfection made her seem like she belonged to another world altogether.

Doctor Lin never initiated chit-chat outside of work. Even if her consult room sat empty during office hours, she wouldn’t touch her phone.

Department gatherings and team-building events? She attended maybe one in ten. Since joining the hospital, Doctor Lin had never taken a single day of annual leave, sick leave, or personal time.

She moved through her days like a flawless machine—serene, exquisite features betraying nothing. No one could guess at her private life, and in time, no one dared try.

So whenever Doctor Lin came up, the room fell quiet by reflex.

Especially now, when they feared their noise might disturb her.

The lounge turned eerily still, save for the faint sounds of chewing.

The inner door eased open. Lin Qimian stepped out in her white coat, hands tucked in her pockets. Meeting their eyes, she curved her lips into a small smile. “Having lunch?”

They all jumped to reply.

“Yeah.”

“We were craving hot pot, so we ordered enough for everyone.”

“Good afternoon, Teacher Lin.”

“Teacher Lin, have you had lunch?”

“We’ll tidy up here once we’re done and head to the courtyard to air out the smell together…”

“That sounds good.” Lin Qimian acknowledged with a nod, her gaze landing on Peng Xiaoshuai’s phone on the table and lingering there for a second.

Peng Xiaoshuai caught on quick and shot to his feet.

He dragged out the empty stool beside him. “Teacher Lin, join us. The hotpot base here is seriously top-notch.”

The group fell silent for a beat, then erupted with even more enthusiasm.

Lin Qimian smiled and stepped up to the table, though she didn’t take a seat.

She glanced around at everyone before turning to Peng Xiaoshuai. “I overheard you all talking about some goddess just now…”

“Ah.” Peng Xiaoshuai let out a sound, his face flushing bright red. “Just a streamer I really like. I catch her live streams now and then. But in our hospital, you’re the real goddess…”

“Let me see.” Lin Qimian cut him off, her eyes dropping once more to his phone.

“Ah…” Peng Xiaoshuai fumbled to unlock it. The screen was parked on Xu Yueliang’s homepage.

“Very pretty,” Lin Qimian said sincerely.

Peng Xiaoshuai’s cheeks burned even hotter, like he’d just been praised in his own field of expertise. “Yeah, she’s… pretty okay…”

Lin Qimian shot him a look. “Watch her streams a lot?”

Peng Xiaoshuai: “Yeah, after work…”

Lin Qimian: “How many years?”

“Ah, no, no…” Peng Xiaoshuai waved his hands wildly. “I don’t watch many female streamers. After starting university, I had more free time and got into gaming, so mostly game streams…”

“How long has she been on Orange?” Lin Qimian brought the conversation back around.

Peng Xiaoshuai noted her casual expression—no hint of disapproval—and relaxed.

He rattled off Little Moon’s backstory like a walking encyclopedia. “Moon’s only been on Orange a little over two years. Before that, she was on Sea Fish, which is super shady. At their annual meeting, they dragged a bunch of female streamers onstage for these humiliating games. Moon lost it right there, and Sea Fish banned her channel on some flimsy excuse.

“Orange shelled out a massive penalty fee to sign her after that. She’s insanely hardworking—other streamers do eight hours a day; she pushes twelve. Don’t let the dancing fool you now; she can do it all. Did mukbang for a stretch too.”

Peng Xiaoshuai scratched his head. “Anyway, it’s not just her looks. She’s so driven—watching her every day gets me fired up to tackle anything.”

His sincerity shone through, and the nurses clustered around the table let out a collective “Ooooh.”

“True fanboy material.”

“Xiaoshuai, grab the opportunity tomorrow when she shows up. Give it your all, maybe score her WeChat.”

“Our Xiaoshuai’s no slouch himself…”

“What’s your Orange username?” Lin Qimian asked abruptly.

Peng Xiaoshuai froze, then clapped a hand over his phone. “Teacher Lin, uh, that’s my private account…”

Lin Qimian: “You on her fan leaderboard?”

Peng Xiaoshuai went utterly blank.

Lin Qimian straightened, nudging her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “If you like a streamer that much, you’ve got to be willing to spend some money. Support her career.”