Chapter 29: Pet Blogger, Elite Player Wang Wenbo

At eight thirty, Cheng Yao arrived at South Station right on time.

After leaving the station, he hurried to the subway toward the university, texting Wang Wenbo and a few others, asking them to help find excuses for his absence.

Wang Wenbo replied: “Don’t worry, the excuse is solid. Hurry up and get here.”

Cheng Yao responded: “No problem, I’ve sent you the money.”

By nine o’clock, Cheng Yao reached the university as scheduled and went straight to the teaching building.

At that moment, class was already in session.

Cheng Yao appeared at the classroom door, instantly drawing the attention of the whole class. In the School of Economics, he was something of a minor celebrity.

“May I come in?” he called.

The class advisor glanced at him. “You’ve had a stomachache for that long? Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes, much better.” Cheng Yao feigned a stomachache, glancing at Wang Wenbo. Was this really a “solid” excuse?

Wang Wenbo gave him a thumbs up and smiled.

“All right, find yourself a seat,” the teacher said.

Cheng Yao squeezed in and sat next to Wang Wenbo.

Wang Wenbo leaned over and whispered, “Are the girls in your girlfriend’s dorm pretty?”

“If I told you they’re all fair-skinned, beautiful, long-legged, and artistically talented, would you believe me?”

“I’d believe it!” Wang Wenbo replied.

Cheng Yao wasn’t exaggerating—the girls in Cheng Linlin’s dorm were genuinely attractive, and with a little makeup, they were all striking beauties.

He buried himself in his book and tried to settle into the rhythm of campus life.

After class, Liu Hanyue and Wang Churu ran over.

Wang Churu, acting suspiciously, said, “Cheng Yao, you lied. Yesterday you went to Magic City.”

“How did you know?” Cheng Yao smiled, asking.

Wang Churu replied, “We all follow your TikTok. We saw the video you posted last night.”

“So that’s how it is. Should I award you a prize?”

“Haha, forget the award. I even liked and commented on your video. You should acknowledge me!” Wang Churu complained.

Liu Hanyue’s eyes flashed mischievously. “You have to treat us to a meal. In the future, we won’t expose you, and we can help keep your secrets and even cover for your absences. Isn’t that a good deal?”

“You just want a free meal, don’t you?”

“Tch, as if we can’t afford to eat. I could give you some advice for your TikTok.”

“What advice?” Cheng Yao asked.

Wang Churu, hands on her hips, said, “Don’t be fooled by Hanyue’s petite size and cuteness; her TikTok has several million followers.”

“Who’s petite?” Liu Hanyue pinched her.

Cheng Yao instinctively glanced at Liu Hanyue’s chest. It really was small—she hadn’t lied.

Wang Churu jumped like a startled rabbit, quick and lively.

Wang Wenbo was amazed. “Millions of followers? Are you serious?”

“You?” Cheng Yao was surprised. Was a major influencer right beside him?

In fact, anyone would find this a bit astonishing.

Liu Hanyue smiled, her teeth gleaming. “Yes, but it’s just for fun. I make some videos, but I don’t rely on it for income, don’t livestream, and don’t take ads. If you’re interested, I could give you some advice. Sound like a good deal?”

“Let’s go—the chicken hotpot across from campus. My treat.”

Cheng Yao agreed without hesitation, genuinely surprised.

Wang Churu, seeing his quick change of attitude, scoffed. “So cheap—whoever feeds you is your dearest?”

“Get lost,” Cheng Yao replied.

“Hmph.” Wang Churu snorted.

Cheng Yao leaned in and asked, “Miss Liu, how many followers do you have?”

“Almost two million.”

“Two million followers, and you don’t livestream or take ads? Isn’t that a waste? Let me see, you’re ‘Cherry Lips’?”

“Mm…”

Cheng Yao opened her page—none of the videos showed her face. They featured cats and dogs, or internet memes. The cat in Liu Hanyue’s videos was indeed adorable.

“Why does your cat’s tail look like a feather duster? Is it always like that?”

“It drops when tired. Maybe it thinks it looks prettier this way. My dog is even more obedient—it can fetch my food deliveries.”

“Is it for breeding?”

“It’s been neutered!”

Cheng Yao and Wang Wenbo felt a chill between their legs. “You know, I think your cat and dog might have more fans than you.”

“Who says so?”

Chatting as they walked, they arrived at the chicken hotpot place across the street. They ordered two pots and a variety of side dishes, all for just over a hundred yuan—a real bargain.

Liu Hanyue ate her vermicelli, saying, “From my experience, without a team, you have to focus on a single direction. For example, you could play guitar or piano and sing, or make food videos and eat your way around the world, or feature luxury goods like sports cars, hotels, and restaurants. That’s how you attract a loyal audience.

But if you’re scattered like you are, people won’t remember what your specialty is. For example, everyone thinks I’m a pet blogger…”

“That makes sense,” Cheng Yao mused.

Wang Wenbo couldn’t help but say, “With two million followers, you could make a lot with livestreams and selling stuff. I heard on Shark Stream, even those with a million followers can make three or four hundred thousand a month just from gifts and tips—not counting signing bonuses.

Some big influencers have signing bonuses in the tens of millions.”

“That’s incredible!” Zhang Lei and Zhu Huiyang were stunned.

Cheng Yao ate a beef roll. “That’s the rumor, but most don’t make money.”

“True. The streaming industry is like that. If you caught the wave early and were lucky, you’d make more. Now, it’s a bit late to join, and you really need talent. Some people are natural on camera; some get awkward just seeing one.

Besides, who knows how long the industry will last?”

“Exactly.” Liu Hanyue nodded. She herself didn’t like being on camera—showing her face was out of the question. This was already her limit.

Mainly, her family wasn’t short on money.

Cheng Yao said, “I know what I’m doing. It’s just for fun. Let’s eat.”

“By the way, the class president election is coming up. Do you want to try?” Wang Wenbo looked at Cheng Yao and Liu Hanyue, the two best-looking in the class.

Cheng Yao shook his head. “It’s a lot of work for nothing.”

“I won’t do it either,” Liu Hanyue said, shaking her head.

If it were before, Cheng Yao might have considered it. After all, being class president had its perks—like a Party membership slot, and personal growth—but whether he could win was another matter.

You needed top grades, responsibility, ambition, and had to handle all sorts of minor issues, plus shadow the counselor. Enough already.

If the counselor was a stunning beauty, maybe—but Cheng Yao was absolutely unwilling.

Better to wash up and sleep.

As they chatted, the afternoon passed. Cheng Yao paid for lunch, and Wang Wenbo pulled him aside.

Cheng Yao asked, “What’s up?”

“Going to Golden Arts tonight—are you coming?” Wang Wenbo grinned.

“…”

Cheng Yao glanced at him, asking, “You’re still interested in Lu Mengyao? No chance, really. Girls like her are only good as lovers, don’t take it seriously.”

“It’s not Lu Mengyao. I think Chen Qian is pretty nice. I’ve been chatting with her for two days now.”

“?”

Cheng Yao’s expression turned odd. “You’re firing rockets—moving that fast?”

…

…

It’s Monday—asking for monthly votes and recommendations, thank you.

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