That Number-One Male Lead Who Never Likes to Eat (09)

After driving her own system so mad that it shut itself away in a sulk, Si Jiu felt much more at ease.

The male lead was right next door, after all, so there was no need to rush. In a pleasant mood, she cuddled the dog for a while longer and passed the afternoon that way. At six o’clock, she fed Bun, then ordered takeout and went live.

Following Xu Weiwan’s usual streaming habits, she adjusted her phone’s angle. On the livestream screen, the spicy lobster she had ordered glowed bright red and steamy, looking delicious enough to make one’s mouth water.

In her last world, she had suffered enough from bread and smoked meat; in this modern world, she longed for good food day and night.

There were not many people in the livestream room, only a few hundred, but they all greeted her warmly.

— Good evening, Wanwan. Haven’t seen you in ages.

— Wow, lobster tonight? Just looking at it is making me drool.

— More than eating, I like watching Wanwan cook.

Everyone was enthusiastic, but not in an overwhelming way. There was a just-right familiarity and warmth to it that made people feel comfortable.

That was also why Xu Weiwan had kept streaming for so long.

In truth, she never showed her face and hardly ever spoke, so by rights she should not have been popular at all.

Yet strangely enough, her followers kept growing little by little, until they had even broken one hundred thousand.

She had once asked her fans about it. Many of them said they did not know why either. They simply felt that staying in Wanwan’s livestream room, listening to her eat and hearing her say a few words now and then, left them inexplicably relaxed.

While rolling up her sleeves to start peeling shrimp, Si Jiu replied to a few comments from her viewers.

Before long, though, she no longer had time to interact with them. The only sounds left in the livestream room were the slurping noises of her eating lobster and the hot, breathy little hisses she made from the spice.

One lobster after another vanished from the large glass bowl, leaving behind only shattered shells piled high on the table.

— Listening to this has made me hungry too. Fine, I’m ordering takeout.

— Wanwan sounds like she’s dying from the heat. Have some sweet milk to take the edge off.

In the living room on the other side of the wall, the young man, now changed into black loungewear, was curled up on the sofa. He held his phone sideways, earphones in, and on the screen was the livestream room of a streamer named “Bai Shang and Song Yu at the End of the Night.”

In his ears came the faint sound of breathy exhalations. Even though the streamer’s figure did not appear in the video, simply listening to those sounds let him picture exactly what she must look like at that moment.

He had always been sensitive to voices. The first time he heard that girl speak in the hospital, he recognized her immediately as the food streamer he had once clicked into by chance.

Back then, he had followed her on a whim.

And now, when his phone had notified him that she was live, he had once again clicked into her room on a whim.

For some reason, the style felt a little different from the first time he had listened to her stream.

But perhaps he was overthinking it. After all, it had been a long time since he last listened to her stream, and back then she had spoken even less, leaving no deep impression.

Even he did not know why he had followed her in the first place.

“What’s so good about sweet milk?” he heard the girl say, her voice a little soft and sticky. “Shouldn’t the proper pairing for spicy lobster be ice-cold beer?”

“Wait for me a moment, okay?”

Footsteps moved away and then returned. A moment later, he saw a slender white hand holding a can of beer appear on the screen.

She set the beer on the table, pressed her thumb against the can, hooked the tab with her forefinger, and lifted.

With a crisp pop, a few droplets of beer and foam splashed out, catching the warm glow of the filter as they landed on her pale fingertips.

Opening a can with one hand.

Not everyone could do that easily, but it was hardly a difficult feat.

And yet for some reason, that ordinary little scene stirred in him a strange sense of familiarity, leaving behind a remarkably deep impression.

So deep, in fact, that much later, even after a long time had passed, he still had not forgotten it.