He Yu’s comment was quickly buried under a flood of messages worshipping the mysterious big spender. Xie Xiaobao had been streaming for a while and had received yacht gifts before, but a stranger dropping ten at once was a first.
He put on his headset, softly thanked the donor, wished his fans good night, and logged off the stream.
Checking the time, it was just shy of nine—not quite bedtime. Xie Xiaobao thought for a moment, transformed into his cat form, and scampered to the living room to hop on the treadmill for a quick run.
Truth be told, Xie Xiaobao’s cat form was undeniably chubby. His round face aside, his short legs made his body look like a plump, rolling ball of orange fur. Even his human form carried a soft, fleshy charm.
Xie Xiaobao squatted in front of the mirror, half-standing to inspect his bulging furry belly. Unhappy, he pressed a paw against it, watching the soft flesh sink and bounce back with a slight jiggle when he let go.
In his human form, his belly wasn’t quite so prominent. Though a bit chubby, his small frame made it less noticeable, only evident when touched. But for some reason, his cat form was just *extra* fat!
Xie Xiaobao lowered his paw, gazing mournfully at the tubby cat in the mirror. He let out a deep, melancholic purr before trudging to the treadmill to start running.
The orange cat moved its limbs to the treadmill’s rhythm, but within minutes, Xie Xiaobao was panting, tongue lolling out, ears flopping down, looking utterly wilted.
Cheering himself on while stubbornly plodding along, Xie Xiaobao managed fifteen more minutes before giving up.
Dragging his wobbly paws off the treadmill, he rolled onto the carpet, too exhausted to retract his tongue.
After lying there for a bit to recover, Xie Xiaobao got up, shuffled to the bathroom to wash up, dried his fur, and shook out his fluffy coat before burrowing into bed, purring himself to sleep.
The next morning, Xie Xiaobao woke naturally. Warm sunlight filtered through the curtain gaps, and he stretched luxuriously, yawning wide.
The perk of freelancing was controlling his own schedule. He heated a cup of milk, grabbed a bag of toast, and filled his stomach before settling on the balcony’s recliner, tablet in hand, to add text to yesterday’s video tutorial.
Before he could get far, his phone buzzed insistently. Xie Xiaobao opened it to find a flood of messages from Song Kewen in their three-person group chat, including screenshots of company announcements.
Xie Xiaobao enlarged the images. The new policies had been finalized and officially announced.
Song Kewen had sent five screenshots. Xie Xiaobao scrolled to the last one, which addressed the online artist training department: *Related documents to be notified separately.*
Song Kewen was still spamming the chat:
[*Related documents to be notified separately—what’s that supposed to mean? @WangSi @XieXiaobao*]
Xie Xiaobao sent back a confused emoji:
[*No clue.*]
Song Kewen, unsatisfied, bombarded Old Wang, who finally snapped, sending a frantic emoji:
[*You’re asking me? Who the hell do I ask?*]
Old Wang was just as baffled by the notice. He’d been told he’d return to his old department, but now there was no update, leaving him guessing about the higher-ups’ plans.
He sighed, lighting a cigarette.
***
At the top floor of He’s Entertainment, He Yu was reviewing files compiled by his assistant.
Two dossiers lay on his desk: one for Song Kewen, one for Wang Si, the agent.
Song Kewen’s file was straightforward.
After dropping out of high school, he’d bounced around—factory worker, insurance salesman, real estate agent.
His family’s finances were tight, so he’d taken odd jobs until a viral street dance video on Weibo launched him into streaming.
Despite his varied experiences, he was only twenty, still kind-hearted and straightforward, with no ulterior motives, and took good care of Xie Xiaobao.
He Yu considered this, then handed Song Kewen’s file to his assistant. “Have him join the new trainees for training. See how he does.”
The assistant took the file, suppressing her curiosity, and left to make arrangements.
That left Wang Si.
At thirty, Wang Si had been in the entertainment industry for nearly seven years, five of them at He’s Entertainment. He Yu studied his early records closely. Though not well-known, Wang Si wasn’t someone to underestimate.
Five years ago, when Wang Si joined He’s Entertainment, he’d had a moment of glory, even grooming a second-tier celebrity. But internal politics and a betrayal by his artist led to his demotion after offending a higher-up. Since then, he’d faded into obscurity.
Still, a fallen tiger wasn’t to be trifled with. He Yu noted the resources Wang Si had secured for Xie Xiaobao and Song Kewen, raising an eyebrow with mild interest.
If Wang Si could read the room, keeping him with Xie Xiaobao might not be a bad idea.
He Yu quickly dialed the intercom, instructing the assistant to summon Wang Si.
Wang Si was stunned when he got the call. Thinking of the vague notice, he steadied himself and headed to the company.
The assistant was waiting in the lobby. They rode to the top floor together. Wang Si removed his glasses, wiped them carefully, and knocked before entering.
“Sit,” He Yu said, seated behind his desk, Wang Si’s file openly spread out.
“President He.” Wang Si nodded and sat in the chair across from him.
He Yu observed him discreetly. Wang Si had a refined appearance, his suit impeccable, hair neatly fixed with gel—a meticulous man.
He Yu shifted his gaze. “How long have you been with the company?”
Wang Si glanced at his file on the desk, answering calmly, “Five years and a few months.”
“Never thought of jumping ship?” He Yu asked, fingers interlaced. “From what I see, you haven’t achieved much at He’s Entertainment.”
Wang Si gave a polite smile. “I’m not ambitious, President He. I haven’t considered leaving—unless the company wants to terminate me.”
His words carried a probing tone, but He Yu didn’t bite. “There’s an opportunity now. It depends on whether you’re bold enough to take it.”
“What?”
Wang Si leaned forward slightly, listening attentively.
“Stay with the online artist training department or return to your old department. Pick one.”
“Which do you choose?” He Yu leaned back, his sharp gaze watching Wang Si’s reaction.
Wang Si paused, then asked, “If I stay with the online artist department, who would I manage?”
“You already know,” He Yu said.
Wang Si thought of what Xie Xiaobao had said. After a moment, he replied, “I’ll stay with the online artist department.”
He Yu was surprised by his quick agreement, raising an eyebrow.
Wang Si explained, “Things can’t get worse than they were before.”
He Yu nodded approvingly. Wang Si was a smart gambler. Since Xie Xiaobao liked him, letting him continue wasn’t a bad call.
“Go wait for the notice. The online artist department’s restructuring plan will be out by tomorrow evening at the latest.”
Wang Si bowed slightly and left.
***
As He Yu promised, the new policies for the online artist department were released the next day.
First, the department would remain unchanged but report directly to the president’s special assistant.
Second, promising streamers would stay and receive company-sponsored training, while others would be terminated with compensation.
The department was streamlined to just ten people. Two dance-specialized streamers were sent for trainee training, leaving eight behind.
Wang Si and another agent, plus six remaining streamers, made up the entire department.
Xie Xiaobao saw Song Kewen’s name on the training list and excitedly shook him. “You’re in! You’re in!”
Song Kewen’s street dance was self-taught, and his dream had always been to perform on a big stage. A dream once out of reach now felt within grasp.
He hugged Xie Xiaobao, spinning him around, his grin unstoppable.
Startled by the sudden attack, Xie Xiaobao nearly turned into a cat on the spot, struggling to push him off and muttering for him to calm down.