Lu Tinglan · Chat

7:59 PM. In the 300-square-meter penthouse, only one light was on—the one in the stream room. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights burned bright, like an inverted bowl encrusted with diamond dust. Lu Tinglan sat in his "battle station," three monitors arranged in a curve before him. The RGB lighting of his mechanical keyboard breathed softly in the dark, pulsing like the heartbeat of a living creature. He wore a black T-shirt today, his hair casually tousled, his whole body slumped lazily into the gaming chair. A freshly opened can of iced cola sat to his right, and to his left was "First Blood"—the Silver Tabby wrapping its tail around his wrist, trying to stop him from touching the keyboard. "Stop messing around." Lu Tinglan glanced down at the cat. "I'm going live in a second. Wait until later to step on the keyboard." The cat ignored him, wrapping its tail tighter. Lu Tinglan sighed, scooped the cat up, placed it on his lap, and reached out to press the "Start Stream" button. The screen lit up. He adjusted the microphone, cleared his throat, and that rogueish, laugh-tinted voice floated out of the speakers— "Good evening—everyone. Back again today? Let me see... three thousand eight hundred people? Do none of you have anything to do? Me neither." The chat instantly blew up with comments. "Here here! Husband!!" "Young Master Lu, you're ten seconds late today! Dock your pay!" "Where's First Blood! I want to see the cat!" Lu Tinglan scanned the chat, the corner of his lips curling into a slight smile. You could hear that lazy, punchable smirking tone right in his voice: "Dock my pay? Whose pay are you docking? 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. You guys help me remember so I can settle the score with it at the end of the month." The chat went crazy: "First Blood step on it more, 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 uttered a "tchk," popped open the cola tab, took a big gulp, and then placed the can at the farthest corner of the desk—scared the cat would knock it over. "Having money doesn't mean burning it like this. Every cent of mine is earned by playing games myself, alright?" He tilted his head, his voice laced with laughter. "Oh, allowance from home doesn't count; I used that to buy cola." While bantering, he had already entered the ranked queue. He didn't stay idle during the dozen or so seconds waiting for a match, scanning the chat and picking comments to reply: "What? Asking if First Blood ate today? It eats better than you. Today's canned salmon was air-dropped from Japan—don't be jealous, if you were raised by me, 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, It Goes Nowhere'—this is called being sincere, get it?" Match found. He instantly switched modes, his fingers dropping onto the keyboard at blazingly fast speed. But his mouth kept moving: "Playing jungler this round. Watch closely—I'll perform for you what they call a human aimbot." The chat flooded with "Bragging" "Face-slap warning." Three minutes later, he got a double kill, and the chat flooded with "So handsome!" Lu Tinglan laughed, the kind of smile that says "thrilled to be praised but still pretending not to care": "So handsome? Just this? This is only one-third of my actual skill, alright? If I pulled out my full strength—" His controls paused for a fraction of a second, perfectly dodging an enemy skill, then hitting back with a full combo to take down the enemy jungler. "—just like that. Got it?" 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 clear teasing. "I can teach you, sure, but it costs a fee. One lesson—" He deliberately dragged out his tone. "—just buy me boba for a month. Don't ask why boba; 'First Blood' doesn't drink milk, so only you get to drink it." The chat was about to explode again, his fingers operating rapidly while his mouth didn't stop at all: "Oh right, did you guys see my post today? The orange cat downstairs got fat again. I took side-by-side comparison photos—last month versus this month. You guys be the judge, did it eat all the cat food in the entire neighborhood?" "Oh, also, I received a new custom keyboard today, limited to fifty worldwide. I was on the waiting list for half a year. I'll unbox it for you guys later—not bragging, just letting you see what pay-to-win power looks like." The tone of his voice was always like that—the rising end note, the pause filled with laughter, occasionally coughing like he choked on his words. When the chat said "You're talking so much today," he instantly retorted: "When have I ever talked little? My mouth is rented; if I don't use it, it goes to waste."