If Gu Anqi tilted her webcam even a centimeter more to the left, the viewers would see the peeling wallpaper behind her. If she tilted it too far right, they'd see the cardboard box she used as a footrest, because her actual chair wobbled like it had survived three natural disasters.
But with the camera aimed just right, the screen showed a bright, smiling girl with a messy ponytail, oversized hoodie, and eyes that sparkled like she'd swallowed a star.
"Alright! Stream ending here today!" she chirped, lifting her hands in a victory pose. Her voice was light, cheerful, sunshine wrapped in sound. "Thank you for watching me lose in every possible way! Please forget everything embarrassing I said in the last hour."
The chat exploded in teasing comments.
[User123]: our silly anchor strikes again
[LingLing]: Anqi, you're too cute, it's criminal
[FelixFan98]: Queen of dying in the tutorial stage
She laughed. She always laughed. Even when she was tired. Even when her chest ached. Even when she was so lonely it felt like the world had pressed its forehead against hers just to see how long she'd last.
"Goodnight, goodnight—love you guys!" she called, waving until the screen dimmed.
Only after the livestream ended did her smile fall, sliding off her face like a mask she'd forgotten she was wearing.
Her room was suddenly quiet. Too quiet.
The hum of her computer, the soft tick of the old clock, her own breathing those were the only sounds left.
She leaned back, letting out a deep sigh that came from somewhere she pretended didn't exist. A place with sharp edges and cold memories.
Being an illegitimate daughter meant she'd learned early that warmth wasn't free. It wasn't even cheap. It was something she was allowed only in crumbs.
But faking brightness was easier than admitting she was starving for it.
She stretched her arms above her head, hoodie riding up slightly, and glanced at the little sticky note on her monitor. "Make it big someday" written in blue pen.
Under it, another note: "Felix Valentine → invitation stream?? DREAM??"
She puffed out her cheeks. "As if he'll ever notice me," she muttered.
Still, she didn't take the sticky note down.
Hope was a stubborn little thing.
Anqi pushed off from her desk and padded across her cramped room. Every step creaked. Her apartment building was old enough that ghosts probably paid rent here.
She washed her face, tied her hair into a messy bun, and changed into pajamas that were two sizes too big.
Just as she crawled into bed, her phone buzzed.
[From: Gu Mother]
Come home tomorrow. Father wants to discuss the banquet. Dress properly.
No endearment.
No greeting.
Not even her name.
She stared at the message for a long second, her lips tightening. She typed several responses—
"I'm busy."
"I don't want to go."
"Why do I have to show up when I'm not even considered family?"
She deleted each one.
Finally, she typed:
Okay.
Her thumb hovered over "send," then tapped. The message went off into silence.
Her family summoned her like a stray dog they remembered existed twice a year.
She rolled onto her side, burying her face in her pillow. "It's fine… I'm used to it."
But the ceiling felt heavier than usual, as if the universe disagreed.
She closed her eyes and forced herself to sleep.
Tomorrow, unknowingly, she would meet a man whose world was colder than hers, so cold it had never known the sun.
Across the city, in a penthouse wrapped in glass and shadow, Shen Zhi was standing alone in his study.
He liked standing. Standing meant not touching anything. Not leaving fingerprints. Not feeling the texture of objects press against his skin, reminding him of sensations he spent a lifetime trying to avoid.
His fingers, long and elegant but stiff, hovered a few centimeters above the stack of documents his assistant had left on his desk.
Contracts. Numbers. Proposals.
His world was built on precision, and his mind worked like a blade...sharp, silent, leaving nothing behind but cold clarity.
He had never failed at anything. But he had never felt anything deeply enough to call it living, either.
A man of glass, someone once called him. Beautiful from afar, impossible to approach.
A soft knock came.
"Enter," he said, voice low, controlled.
His assistant, Xu Chen, stepped in, careful to keep a respectful distance. He was one of the few people who understood the invisible boundary around Shen Zhi, the one no one was allowed to cross.
"President Shen, the PR department is asking about the Orange TV partnership event tomorrow," Xu Chen said.
"Approve it."
"They also want to confirm whether you'll attend in person."
Shen Zhi's brow twitched—the closest thing to a change in expression he allowed outside of rare moments.
Crowds. Flashing lights. Cameras. People who came too close.
"Decline," he said immediately.
"Understood. Also your mother called again. She insists on your presence at the Gu family's banquet. She said your absence would be 'inappropriate.'"
His jaw tensed.
The Gu family.
A name he disliked almost as much as he disliked unnecessary social gatherings.
"Tell her my health requires avoiding crowded events." His tone remained calm, but the look in his eyes hardened.
Touch aversion. Mysophobia. Two labels doctors had given him. To others, they were flaws. To him, they were scars.
Xu Chen nodded, already expecting that answer. "I'll relay your message. Should I prepare your schedule for tomorrow as usual?"
"Yes. And Xu Chen."
"Yes, President Shen?"
"Make sure no one touches me."
Xu Chen bowed slightly. "Of course."
When he left, the room fell silent again.
Shen Zhi stared at the skyline, the cold lights blinking above a world he never felt part of.
People said he had everything. Wealth. Influence. A face sculpted by God on a generous day.
But they didn't know what it felt like to step into a room and feel his own skin crawl at the idea of someone brushing past him. To wear gloves not for warmth, but for armor. To avoid human warmth because it felt like poison.
He closed his eyes.
His mother wanted him to attend the Gu family banquet tomorrow.
As if he didn't already have enough reasons to avoid them.
But fate, inconvenient and persistent, had already decided otherwise.
The next morning,
Gu Anqi woke up to rain tapping against her thin windowpane. She groaned.
"Rainy days should be banned… who do I file a complaint with?"
Her stomach rumbled, interrupting her complaining.
She put on a hoodie and jeans, grabbed the only umbrella she owned—pink with tiny cartoon rabbits and then she dashed out of her building, trying not to slip on the wet steps.
Her bus stop was five minutes away on a good day. Today, with the rain pouring sideways, it felt like a battlefield.
"Please let the bus not be late," she begged the universe.
The universe laughed.
The bus was late.
She stood under her flimsy rabbit umbrella, hugging her bag to her chest, trying to stay warm.
Around her, people muttered about the weather, taxis splashed puddles, and thunder growled overhead.
"Of course. Perfect. Welcome to my glamorous life," she deadpanned to no one.
A car sped past - sleek, black, the kind that cost more than her entire life savings.
A second later, a wave of muddy rainwater splashed up from the road.
Directly onto her jeans.
She stared down at herself, stunned.
"…Nice. Thank you," she whispered to the sky. "I always wanted to cosplay a drenched potato."
She didn't realize that the car belonged to Shen Zhi, on his way to the very banquet she hoped to endure with minimal humiliation.
She also didn't realize that her silly pink umbrella had caught someone's attention behind the tinted car window—although that attention was little more than a fleeting curiosity, quickly dismissed.
But fate isn't polite. It doesn't knock. It barges in.
The day was far from over.
And neither of them knew that before it ended, she would fall—literally—into his life.
And he would feel her touch.
And for the first time in years, his world wouldn't shatter.
It would shift.