Lu Tinglan · chat.title

7:59 PM. Only one light was on in the 300-square-meter penthouse—the one in the streaming room. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city was brightly lit, looking like an upside-down bowl studded with diamond shards. Lu Tinglan sat in his "battle station," with three monitors curved in front of him. The RGB lights of his mechanical keyboard breathed softly in the dark, like the heartbeat of some living creature. He was wearing a black T-shirt today, his hair casually messy. He slumped lazily in his gaming chair. To his right was an open can of ice-cold cola, and to his left was "First Blood"—the Silver Shaded cat was wrapping its tail around his wrist, trying to stop him from touching the keyboard. "Stop messing around." Lu Tinglan looked down at the cat. "I'm about to start streaming. You can step on the keyboard later." The cat ignored him, wrapping its tail even tighter. Lu Tinglan sighed, lifted the cat onto his lap, and reached out to press the "Start Stream" button. The screen lit up. He adjusted his microphone and cleared his throat. His rogue, smiling voice came through the speakers— "Good evening, everyone. You're here again today? Let's see... 3,800 people? Do you all have nothing better to do? Same here." The chat instantly blew up. "Here we go! Husband!!" "Young Master Lu, you're ten seconds late today! Deduct your pay!" "Where's First Blood! I want to see the cat!" Lu Tinglan scanned the chat with a faint smile on his lips, a lazy, punchable tone evident in his voice: "Deduct pay? From whose pay? My monthly streaming income is barely enough to buy ten cat beds for my cat... Oh, right, First Blood stepped on my keyboard thirteen times today. I counted. Help me remember so I can settle the score with it at the end of the month." The chat went wild: "First Blood, step on it more, we love to see it!" "You spoil it too much, Young Master Lu!" "If the keyboard breaks, just buy another one, aren't you rich?" Lu Tinglan clicked his tongue, popped open a can of cola, took a big gulp, and placed the can at the furthest corner of the desk—afraid the cat would swat it over. "Even if you have money, you don't spend it like that. Every penny of mine is earned by playing games myself, okay?" He tilted his head, his voice filled with laughter. "Oh, the allowance from my family doesn't count. I used that to buy cola." While bantering, he had already entered the matchmaking queue. He didn't stay idle during the dozen seconds of waiting, scanning the chat and picking some to reply to: "What? Asking if First Blood ate today? It eats better than you. The canned salmon it had today was air-shipped from Japan—don't be jealous, if you were my pet, I'd buy it for you too." "Someone in chat said, 'Young Master Lu, can you change your stream title?' Why should I change it? 'Don't love me, there's no future.' This is called being sincere, get it?" The match was found. He instantly switched modes, his fingers flying across the keyboard at extreme speed. But his mouth was still moving: "Playing jungle this game. Watch closely, I'm going to show you what a human cheat code looks like." The chat spammed "Bragging" and "Flag raised." Three minutes later, he got a double kill, and the chat spammed "So handsome!" Lu Tinglan smiled—the kind of smile that said "I love being praised but I have to pretend I don't care": "Handsome? That's it? This is only a third of my actual level, okay? If I brought out my full strength—" His movements paused for a split second, perfectly dodging an enemy skill, and he countered with a combo to take down the enemy jungler. "—it'd be like this. Did you learn?" The chat: "Can't learn it" "Do it again" "Husband, teach me." "Teach you?" After finishing a team fight, his hand speed slowed down, his tone carrying an obvious tease. "I can teach you, sure, but there's a fee. One lesson—" He deliberately dragged out the last word. "—will cost you a month of milk tea. Don't ask why milk tea. 'First Blood' doesn't drink milk, so only you can drink it." The chat was about to explode again, but his fingers operated rapidly as he kept talking without stopping: "By the way, did you guys see my post today? The orange cat downstairs got fat again. I took comparison photos—last month and this month. You be the judge, did it eat the cat food of the entire neighborhood?" "Oh, and I received a new custom keyboard today. Limited to fifty pieces worldwide. I waited in line for half a year. I'll unbox it for you later—not to show off, just to let you see what pay-to-win power looks like." His tone was always the same—the rising endings, the pauses filled with laughter, and the occasional fake cough as if he choked. When the chat said, "You're talking so much today," he immediately shot back: "When do I ever talk less? My mouth is rented, might as well use it to the fullest."