Chapter 10: Side Account

Zhang Xibai thought Gu Liuguang would definitely turn back to find her, so then she could get Gu Liuguang to agree to have dinner with her.

In the end, Gu Liuguang quickly withdrew her gaze and slipped into the elevator, as if a ghost were chasing her from behind.

Zhang Xibai’s face instantly darkened.

She pulled out her phone and sent Gu Liuguang a screenshot—a photo of her and Lin Shixia together—trying to prove that she really knew Lin Shixia and wasn’t deceiving her. In the end, she never received a reply from Gu Liuguang.

When Zhang Xibai said she could arrange for Gu Liuguang to meet Lin Shixia, Gu Liuguang was genuinely tempted.

Everyone said celebrities looked better in person than on TV. She knew Lin Shixia was definitely attractive, but she was also looking forward to meeting Lin Shixia offline.

Just as she turned back, the System reminded her that Zhang Xibai definitely harbored ill intentions.

【Lin Shixia’s manager is a big shot in the industry. A few days ago, she trended on the Hot Search, and her manager immediately took her to audition for an S-level drama. She’s still in B City preparing for the audition and couldn’t possibly come to A City.】

【By the timing, the Group Live starts in just these few days, and Lin Shixia will show up in the live stream room then.】

Gu Liuguang thought it over and agreed that the System made sense. In the Original Plot, Zhang Xibai had no role at all. She even suspected Zhang Xibai had split personality and had no desire to spend time alone with her anyway.

Once the System finished its analysis, she bolted right away.

She asked Lin Zhenshuang to call her a ride. Lin Zhenshuang immediately realized she was off work and didn’t give Gu Liuguang any chance to refuse. She sent over a fruit delivery combo and ordered takeout from a newly opened restaurant in A City.

By this point, Gu Liuguang had grown much more proficient with Weibo. She was among the first to apply for admin status, created the very first fan Q-group in the Super Topic, and churned out countless god-tier fan edits. Her follower count had steadily climbed to 100,000, and people @-ed her at random.

That restaurant had been recommended by a fellow Lin Shixia fan who @-ed her. Since they were in the same city, Gu Liuguang followed back and added her on WeChat.

The other girl said the place was new but insanely popular—she and her friends had queued forever.

Maybe because she’d spent so long as a ghost, Gu Liuguang had developed heavy tastes when it came to food. She’d tried tons of restaurants in A City and had casually mentioned this one to Lin Zhenshuang.

She figured Lin Zhenshuang would order from there. No matter what she requested—even offhand—Lin Zhenshuang always made it happen.

With fruits delivered and takeout from that trendy check-in spot on the way, it felt wrong to refuse Lin Zhenshuang’s invitation to play games together.

Gu Liuguang snapped photos of the takeout first and sent them separately to her fellow fans and to Lin Zhenshuang before digging in.

As she ate, anxiety bubbled up: 【Lin Zhenshuang is too perfect. How am I supposed to bring up breaking up with her?】

More importantly, she had this nagging feeling that Lin Zhenshuang wouldn’t agree to a breakup.

The System was anxious too, but it tried to sound upbeat: 【You’re just game CPs who haven’t even met IRL. What’s not to agree with?】

【She Xia Le Xia Tian: Wow, doesn’t this restaurant ban delivery? Sis, are you some super-rich second-gen or what?】

Gu Liuguang replied: 【My girlfriend ordered it for me.】

【She Xia Le Xia Tian: Your girlfriend treats you so well.】

Gu Liuguang said to the System: 【See how good Lin Zhenshuang is to me.】

The System wanted to roll its eyes: 【Good enough to cost you your life?】

Gu Liuguang: ……

Gu Liuguang finished her meal in silence, then coldly turned down Lin Zhenshuang’s suggestion to play games. When Lin Zhenshuang settled for a phone call instead, she excused herself by saying she was exhausted from work and needed rest.

Lin Zhenshuang went radio silent for a good while.

Gu Liuguang started to feel like she’d gone too far, but the task forced her to talk herself out of it.

The System comforted her: 【You did great. Stay distant for a few days, then bring up the breakup logically—say you’ve fallen for someone else. She’ll come around quick.】

Gu Liuguang replied listlessly: 【Guess that’s the only way.】

A message popped up in the WeChat work group: They needed to create Douyin side accounts today, slap on some pretty girl profile pics, and post dance videos or photos to draw in traffic. Come stream time, they’d link their accounts to the Group Live room for easier whale management later.

Then came a huge batch of templates—instructions to write ten original posts based on them, no copying allowed.

They got an earful about following big gifters, writing “homework” for them post-stream, and finally notes on tomorrow’s debut stream and key precautions.

Over a dozen messages in total. Gu Liuguang scrolled through them for ages until she spotted Zhang Xibai @-ing her in the group.

【Host Zhang Ze: Got it, type 1】

【Qianqian: 1】

【Xiao Yao: 1】

【Tiantian: 1】

【Dance Teacher Zhang Xibai: @Gu Liuguang Why aren’t you replying to my messages?】

No one else chimed in—whether they were busy or not, the group stayed dead quiet after that.

One of the girls from her squad finally asked Gu Liuguang about it. Only then did Gu Liuguang remember to drop a “1” in the group before switching to check Zhang Xibai’s WeChat.

Zhang Xibai’s WeChat blew up with messages every day—Gu Liuguang didn’t check them all, never bothered clearing notifications, and had zero OCD about those red badges.

She scrolled down and couldn’t resist clicking into Lin Zhenshuang’s chat.

Lin Zhenshuang had sent a ton this time, mostly explaining that she was heading abroad for a project and couldn’t hover like before. Anything Gu Liuguang craved, just message the other WeChat handle.

【Lin Zhenshuang: My assistant added you. Hit her up if I don’t reply in time.】

【Lin Zhenshuang: Those gifts I mentioned before? They’ll hit A City in a few days.】

Attached were a screenshot of the assistant’s WeChat and an indoor photo.

Gu Liuguang puzzled over the photo for ages until the System cut in: 【It means she’s in the airport lounge—flying out tonight.】

Gu Liuguang just went “oh” and left it on read. She backed out, flipped to Zhang Xibai’s chat, reread those messages, and was about to exit when she remembered the group @. She typed out a slow reply.

【Gu Liuguang: Oh.】

Zhang Xibai fired back instantly: 【? You don’t wanna meet Lin Shixia?】

【Zhang Xibai: Come eat with me. I’ll take you to see her.】

Gu Liuguang wanted nothing to do with Zhang Xibai. She half-assed a reply: 【Gotta set up my work account first. Next time.】

【Zhang Xibai: Send me the account.】

Gu Liuguang frowned. Zhang Xibai felt like a bad penny that wouldn’t turn up missing—especially with that aggressive tone. Her temper flared; she switched to voice and let loose: “Zhang Xibai, are you nuts? Keep hounding me and I’ll block you. Don’t make me call you out in the group!”

She chucked the phone aside afterward, like it had turned into Zhang Xibai herself.

A soft, fluffy teenage voice emanated from the phone—like it had some magic pull, begging to be replayed. It sounded like a kitty coquettishly whining, impossible to stay mad at. Zhang Xibai felt her earlobes heat up, her cheeks flushing with an unhealthy red. She hit play again.

After looping it a dozen times, she finally set the phone down, seemingly satisfied, and muttered under her breath: “Quit acting all coquettish…”

She long-pressed the voice message and added it to her favorites without hesitation before going silent toward Gu Liuguang.

No rush on the account—they’d all mutual-follow in the group once the side accounts were set up anyway. Gu Liuguang would post hers eventually, and Zhang Xibai could lurk with an alt.

The thought of getting close to Gu Liuguang via this side account made Zhang Xibai’s eyes gleam.

Seeing no more messages from Zhang Xibai, Gu Liuguang breathed a sigh of relief and started DMing the others to fish for post ideas.

First, she changed her display name to the standard prefix, then racked her brain for an “art name.” With zero naming talent, she just went with “Little Light.”

She shared the account in the group. Her squad had a decent size, and follows poured in at once. She couldn’t match faces to handles, so she followed everyone back one by one.

Finally, she went with the flow and posted a few photos first.

Gu Liuguang had stared at her own face so long that it bored her now. Ever since getting a body, she’d felt zero interest in jazzing up this plain, unremarkable mug.

She grabbed her phone for some quick snaps to get it over with—but paused right before posting. Thinking of Zhang Xibai, that character-breaking villainess, made her realize she couldn’t rely entirely on the plot for her tasks.

She immediately had the System suggest some poses.

Gu Liuguang had zero photography experience. Sitting there, her body felt rigid, her face as blank as when she was a ghost.

The System kept assuring her she was perfect enough to skate by on plot alone.

With that guarantee, Gu Liuguang dumped all the photos onto her account in one go.

She felt uneasy, downright anxious.

The System mulled it over: 【Wanna toss up a dance video too? Didn’t Lin Zhenshuang buy you a bunch of clothes? Grab one at random.】

Gu Liuguang lacked confidence and let the System pick.

The System suddenly got serious, firing up its big data analysis. It selected an ink-green short skirt and had her curl her hair too.

Once dressed, Gu Liuguang checked the mirror and felt pretty satisfied.

The System hesitated: 【Isn’t this a bit rule-breaking?】

Gu Liuguang figured Lin Zhenshuang had a subtly pervy eye for fashion. She replied casually: 【What’s rule-breaking about it?】

The skirt barely reached her thigh roots—any movement risked exposure. It was a halter style, baring a huge swath of pale back on every turn.

Even from the front, it didn’t fully cover: thin straps draped over her fair, rounded shoulders, plunging into a soft, deep cleavage that drew the eye. Lower down, lace peeked at a dainty navel if stared at long enough, barely concealing the front.

The sides hollowed out at her slim waist—maybe the size ran big. A slight turn threatened to reveal everything.

Gu Liuguang eyed her reflection and found the face too bland, too ordinary. She rummaged through her vanity, grabbed a lipstick, and applied it slowly.

Her makeup skills sucked, but she still remembered how to do brows and lips.

The cosmetics were gifts from Lin Zhenshuang—the only one who’d think to send her such things. She rarely fussed with them, using them only occasionally.

This was a new tube; she had no clue if the shade suited her. She just wanted some color on her lips.

Once styled, Gu Liuguang followed the System’s pick for a simple dance video, learned the moves, let the System edit the clip, and finally uploaded it to her side account homepage.