“Alright.” The assistant jotted down notes. “Anything else to add, President He?”
He Yu propped his chin on his folded hands, pondering for a moment before saying, “Call Xie Xi to my office.”
“Xie Xi?” The assistant’s expression flickered with surprise, but she quickly recovered, nodding respectfully. “Understood.”
The assistant closed the door and left. He Yu stood, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, and gazed at the distant sky, quietly waiting for Xie Xiaobao’s arrival.
In the fifth-floor office, Song Kewen was still chattering away. “Old Wang, look on the bright side. This lousy department’s gone, and isn’t that better? You’ll go back, manage a couple of promising newbies, and won’t have to nag us about not making you look good.”
Old Wang straightened up and kicked Song Kewen’s chair. “What did you just call me?”
Song Kewen nearly toppled over, scrambling to steady himself before realizing he’d let slip the nickname he used behind Old Wang’s back. He grinned sheepishly and corrected himself. “My bad, Brother Wang, Brother Wang, okay?”
Old Wang spat at him, then turned to Xie Xiaobao. “Xiaobao’s still the reliable one.”
The office was in the middle of this banter when a sharp “knock knock knock” came from the door. The trio paused their antics, and Xie Xiaobao got up to answer it.
“Hello, who are you looking for?” Xie Xiaobao poked half his body out, facing an unfamiliar person.
The assistant, holding a stack of files, looked at Xie Xiaobao with a polite but slightly aloof tone. “Is Xie Xi here? President He wants to see him.”
Xie Xi was Xie Xiaobao’s real name, but his family had always used his nickname, so he rarely heard it. It took him a moment to process. “Huh?”
The assistant repeated patiently, “I’m looking for Xie Xi. He needs to come with me.”
Xie Xiaobao belatedly realized she meant him, scratching his cheek in confusion. “That’s me. What’s this about?”
“Then come with me,” the assistant said, turning gracefully toward the elevator. “President He has something to discuss.”
“Wait—” Xie Xiaobao wanted her to hold on so he could tell Old Wang and Song Kewen, but she was already a few steps ahead. He hurried back inside, quickly explained to Old Wang, and rushed out after her.
At the elevator, the assistant held the door open for him. Seeing him approach, she stepped inside and said coolly, “Let’s go.”
Xie Xiaobao nodded and followed her into the elevator.
The assistant swiped a card, and the elevator ascended to the top floor before stopping. When the doors opened, Xie Xiaobao held the button, letting her exit first before following.
He Yu was already waiting at his desk. The assistant led Xie Xiaobao in and stepped aside, awaiting further instructions.
“You can go,” He Yu said. “Make a coffee, and then prepare a cup of warm milk with sugar.”
“Yes, sir.” A flicker of surprise crossed the assistant’s eyes, her gaze darting toward Xie Xiaobao. Everyone in the president’s office knew He Yu didn’t like sweets, so the milk… was clearly for Xie Xi.
Though surprised, the assistant hid her expression and quietly left.
With no one else around, He Yu’s demeanor visibly softened. He walked around his desk and sat on the guest sofa. “Come, sit.”
Xie Xiaobao nervously sat across from him.
He’d been in such a rush earlier that he hadn’t considered which “President He” this was. Now, face-to-face with He Yu, whose height towered over him by more than a head, he felt an invisible pressure.
“President He,” Xie Xiaobao said, biting his cheek. He glanced up briefly, then quickly looked away, staring at the carpet’s patterns. “You wanted to see me?”
He Yu leaned back, crossing his legs, and looked at him with a hint of exasperation. “We just met a few days ago, and you’re still so formal.”
“Are you scared of me?”
Xie Xiaobao shook his head, unsure how to explain, when a knock at the door interrupted. The assistant returned with the drinks, and Xie Xiaobao let out a small sigh of relief. Whether it was the lingering guilt from being caught gossiping or He Yu’s imposing aura, he couldn’t help feeling intimidated.
The assistant set down the drinks and left. He Yu pushed the warm milk toward Xie Xiaobao. “Relax. I was just bored and thought we could chat.”
Xie Xiaobao gave a dry “oh.” “Chat about what?”
“Anything,” He Yu said, sipping his coffee. The rich aroma filled his mouth, and he squinted slightly, his lips curving upward. “How about your job? Are you happy at the company?”
Xie Xiaobao’s easygoing nature left him a bit thrown by He Yu’s rapid topic shifts. He blinked dumbly at him. “Uh? It’s pretty good.”
“Pretty good?” He Yu raised an eyebrow. He’d looked into the online artist training department—a neglected corner of He’s Entertainment, a failed experiment from the internet boom, with no connections, resources, or presence, constantly trampled in the company’s hierarchy. In the cutthroat entertainment industry, someone like Xie Xiaobao, barely even a proper artist, would be lucky not to be bullied. Yet here he was, naively thinking it was “pretty good.”
Seeing He Yu’s skepticism, Xie Xiaobao said earnestly, “Brother Wang and Keke are really good to me. I’m happy working with them.”
It was fine, except they’d soon be parting ways, Xie Xiaobao thought glumly to himself.
He Yu’s expression shifted, noticing Xie Xiaobao’s sudden dejection. “Any plans for the future?”
“Huh?” Xie Xiaobao was thrown off again by the scattered questions. After a moment’s thought, he said, “No big plans. Just keep streaming, do some crafts, maybe open a craft shop someday.”
“No interest in breaking into the entertainment industry?” He Yu asked.
Xie Xiaobao shook his head. “I can’t sing, dance, or act. I’m not cut out for being a celebrity.”
Plus, I’m too fat, he added silently in his head.
He Yu couldn’t help but laugh at his serious expression. “If you wanted to be a celebrity, not knowing those things wouldn’t matter.”
Xie Xiaobao still shook his head. “I don’t want to be a celebrity.”
He Yu chuckled. “Alright, then I wish you success with your dreams.”
Xie Xiaobao nodded, and seeing He Yu smile, he found himself grinning too, his round eyes squinting and cheeks puffing up like a chubby kitten, making one want to poke them to see if they’re as soft as they look.
He Yu pointed to the untouched milk in front of him, his voice gentle. “Drink your milk and head back soon.”
Xie Xiaobao obediently picked up the cup, gulping it down. The sweetened milk was just right—not too cloying. He finished it in a few sips, instinctively licking the milk mustache off his lips.
He Yu watched him act like a kid, then recalled the bar scene from before. He couldn’t help adding, “You’re still young. Stay away from bars in the future.”
Xie Xiaobao’s eyes widened in surprise, wondering how He Yu knew he’d been to a bar. But He Yu didn’t elaborate, instead patting his head with a smile. “Go on, and next time, use my name.”
He Yu called the assistant back via the intercom to escort Xie Xiaobao downstairs.
Xie Xiaobao returned to the fifth floor still in a daze. He Yu had called him up just to ask a bunch of random questions—maybe he really was just bored and wanted to chat.
The elevator stopped at the fifth floor, and the assistant held the door for him. Xie Xiaobao thanked her and stepped out, insisting she didn’t need to walk him further. He returned to the office alone.
The moment he entered, Old Wang and Song Kewen swarmed him, bombarding him with questions.
“What did President He want with you?”
“You know him?”
“He’s not trying to get with you, is he?”
They fired off questions one after another. Xie Xiaobao, dazed, said, “Slow down, one at a time.”
Old Wang sat in front of him. “What did President He want?”
“To chat,” Xie Xiaobao answered honestly.
Old Wang narrowed his eyes. “About what?”
“He asked if I’m happy at the company and what I plan to do next,” Xie Xiaobao said simply. “Also, if I want to be a celebrity.”
The more Song Kewen heard, the more suspicious it sounded. He’d heard plenty of industry rumors and was quick to assume the worst. He frowned. “President He’s not actually trying to get with you, is he?”
What kind of boss asks such detailed questions about a small-time artist? It sounded like a hint.
“No way,” Xie Xiaobao explained. “President He was just bored and wanted to talk.”
Song Kewen didn’t buy it. He thought Xie Xiaobao was too naive to see the subtext.
“Alright, enough,” Old Wang cut in, glaring at Song Kewen. “Did you know President He before?”
Xie Xiaobao said slowly, “Yeah, from when we were kids, but I don’t remember.”
“That’s practically childhood sweethearts!” Song Kewen jumped up excitedly. “Why aren’t you clinging to that connection?”
Xie Xiaobao looked innocent. “But I don’t remember him, and we gossiped about him last time, and he heard us.”
Song Kewen choked, his eyes wide, before slumping back into his chair, deflated. “Fine.”
Old Wang wasn’t as caught up in it. He Yu had only recently taken over He’s Entertainment, but rumors about him were already circulating. Word was, he was tough, driven by profit over sentiment, and past attempts to cozy up to him hadn’t ended well. With Xie Xiaobao’s flimsy connection, it was better not to rely on it.
Old Wang gave them a few instructions, and they dispersed. Xie Xiaobao had a livestream scheduled with fans that evening, so he left the company to prepare at home.
The company had a professional recording studio, and Song Kewen often used it, but Xie Xiaobao’s situation was unique, so he rarely recorded there unless necessary.
It was evening when he got home. Xie Xiaobao grabbed a quick bite and started setting up for the stream.
His apartment had two bedrooms—one for sleeping, the other converted into a study, which he’d later turned into a streaming room.
The room was equipped with full streaming gear. Xie Xiaobao expertly opened his computer, logged into his account, and entered the livestream.
Fans were already waiting in the chat. Xie Xiaobao adjusted his headset and greeted the audience.
His streams typically had two parts: teaching crafts and showing off his cute cat form.
Today’s stream was about crafting a dreamcatcher. Xie Xiaobao greeted the audience, set the music volume, and pulled out his materials.
He’d announced the project a day earlier, and many fans had prepared material kits to follow along.
Before he even started, the chat was buzzing.
[“Bao, please go slow for us clumsy folks!”]
[“Hold on, my materials aren’t ready—where’s my leather cord?!”]
[“Stop yapping and start already~”]
Xie Xiaobao freed a hand to type a message: *No rush, I’ll post a written tutorial after the stream.*
He began by securing one end of a thick cotton cord to an iron ring with glue, then wrapping it layer by layer until the ring was fully covered. Next, he used thinner cotton cord to weave a pattern.
Weaving the fine cord was the trickiest part, but Xie Xiaobao’s practiced hands moved nimbly, flipping and twisting the thread until a pattern emerged.
He deliberately slowed his pace so viewers could follow along.
Even so, the chat was full of complaints.
[“Can’t we make something simpler? My thread’s a knotted mess!”]
[“I can tell the host’s slowing down, but I still can’t see it clearly…”]
[“Us mortals will just watch. It’s still a treat to see!”]
Xie Xiaobao focused on his work, ignoring the chat—a habit from his crafting days when he’d block out distractions.
His fans knew this and chatted lively among themselves, the comments flying by.
He Yu sat at his computer, annoyed by the chaotic chat and turned it off. Xie Xiaobao’s focused expression, so different from his childhood image, caught his eye.
As a kid, Xie Xiaobao was a chubby doll-like boy, always eating until his belly was round, then toddling after He Yu, calling him “big brother” with puffed cheeks.
Now, Xie Xiaobao was still a little chubby, cheeks always rounded, and his simple-minded nature hadn’t changed much. But moments like this, with his intense focus, were surprisingly striking.
He Yu moved his mouse and, on a whim, took a screenshot of Xie Xiaobao’s lowered eyes and swift fingers.
Xie Xiaobao’s streaming platform was Jinjiang, a top domestic livestreaming site with huge traffic and diverse content, hosting many big-name streamers.
He Yu had logged in to check out Xie Xiaobao’s work but ended up catching the live broadcast.
On screen, Xie Xiaobao neatly tied off the thread, transforming the bare ring into a complex woven pattern, like a small net to catch dreams, just as its name suggested.
He tied a few thick cords to the bottom, adding feathers and beads, completing a beautiful dreamcatcher.
“Done,” Xie Xiaobao said, exhaling softly. He stood and shook the dreamcatcher, its white feather tassels swaying, looking truly delicate.
He Yu watched his beaming smile, chuckling and shaking his head. He navigated the interface, found the recharge section, topped up with diamonds, and sent ten yacht gifts, watching the screen light up with effects and Xie Xiaobao’s surprised expression. Satisfied, he moved the mouse and posted a comment:
[*Good night, go to bed early.*]
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