Yi Jiangnan · Chat

At exactly nine o'clock in the evening, the stream lit up right on time. It wasn't the kind of light that popped out with a "snap," but a gradual brightening—a warm golden side-light slowly spreading from the top-left of the screen, as if someone were slowly turning on a desk lamp. The man in the frame was looking down, adjusting his microphone, his long hair sliding off his shoulder and covering half of his face. Within three seconds, the bullet comments exploded from zero into a waterfall. He didn't look up. His right hand brushed his hair back, revealing an ear pierced with three silver rings. His fingers were long and pale, his movement so casual it looked like he was brushing away an imaginary mosquito. Then he pulled the microphone a bit closer, leaned back into his chair, and took his first look at the camera. In an instant, the chat went wild. "Ahhhhhhhh Nannan!!!" "Does this face actually exist in real life?" "I'm dead, I'm alive, I'm doing sit-ups in my coffin!" "Sister is so beautiful today I want to call the police." Yi Jiangnan's expression didn't change in the slightest. He read through the comments with lowered eyes, paused for three seconds, and then said his first words of the night: "What sister? Call me bro." His voice was low, trailing off at the end, each word sliding into the ears as if wrapped in silk. The chat instantly switched from "Sister Nannan" to "Brother Nannan" en masse, with a few stubborn holdouts continuing to spam "Wife." Seeing this, the corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. It wasn't a smile, but it drove the chat crazier than a smile ever could. "Tonight's BGM," he gently shifted the topic, his fingers sliding across another screen as the melody of an old Cantonese slow song leaked from the background, "does anyone recognize it?" The chat immediately scrambled to answer, guessing the song title, praising his taste, and asking for the playlist, turning into a chaotic mess. Unhurriedly, Yi Jiangnan opened the game client. While waiting for the update, he picked up a cup from the desk and took a sip. It was a solid black mug with a line of small white text printed on it, mostly blocked by his fingers. The chat started spamming: "What's written on the mug! Show us!" He looked down at the mug, and as if just remembering, turned it slightly toward the camera—it read: "Mind Your Own Business." The chat burst into laughter. This mug belonged to Song Chinian—the whole studio knew it—but seeing it in Yi Jiangnan's hands was a different story. The chat began to fill with comments like "Why is Kitty's mug with you?" and "The studio really is at the level of sharing mugs." Yi Jiangnan put the mug back down, his tone flat: "He left it on my desk this afternoon. I washed it for him." "Washed it for him!!!" "He's so good at this." "This is what you call cold-faced domesticity." "Domestic," he repeated the word, a faint, almost illusory hint of amusement finally appearing in his voice. "Sure." The game update finished. He opened the ranked lobby and waited for matchmaking, resting his chin on one hand while his other hand rested on the edge of the desk, the wide silver ring on his index finger reflecting a cold gleam under the light. The chat started making requests—some wanted to see him play jungle, some wanted marksman, and some didn't want to watch anything but just wanted him to sit there and not move. He scanned the chat and locked in support. "Playing support tonight," he said, pausing before adding, "In a good mood." The chat went absolutely ballistic. The number of times Yi Jiangnan played support could be counted on one hand, and it was always because he was "in a good mood." Hearing those words from his mouth worked better than other streamers shouting "I love you guys" a hundred times. Matchmaking succeeded, and they entered the hero selection screen. He locked in a protective support, while the jungler in their team instantly locked in a high-mechanics playmaker. As the loading screen popped up, Yi Jiangnan glanced at his teammate's ID, his expression pausing subtly. The chat was incredibly sharp-eyed. "Did he just freeze for a second?" "Who is it, who is it?" "Did he match with someone?" "Nannan, make it clear!" Yi Jiangnan didn't reply. But his hand had already picked up his phone to send a message. After sending it, he placed the phone face down on the desk, continued looking at the loading screen, and his expression returned to its usual coldness. Ten seconds later, the studio group chat exploded. Song Chinian posted a screenshot—it was a DM Yi Jiangnan had sent him: "Matched with you. Play well, don't throw." Li Junyue sent six question marks in a row in the group chat: "My account matched with you too??? Why didn't you message me just now? Talk about double standards, huh??" Yi Jiangnan didn't look at his phone, but he clearly saw the chat spamming "Boss Li is jealous in the group chat"—the stream assistant was glowing on his secondary screen to his right. The curve of his lips lingered for another half second. The shippers in the chat went absolutely wild. After entering the game, Yi Jiangnan didn't say any more playful things and played support seriously. But the chat noticed a detail—the shields he cast on Song Chinian were always a fraction of a second faster. It wasn't a matter of hand speed. It was anticipation. This guy didn't say it out loud, but his eyes were always fixed on the person they should be on. The game ended in a win. The MVP was Song Chinian, and Yi Jiangnan had the highest number of assists in the game. Leaning back in his chair, he tilted his head slightly to finish the last sip of water, his Adam's apple bobbing. The chat went crazy once again. "Signing off," he said, his tone lazy. "See you tomorrow."