Year After Year, There Is Fish 04

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You Yun had no recollection of ever deleting him. Throughout her life, she had been kind-hearted and friendly—since childhood, she helped elderly ladies cross the street. She wouldn’t even delete her Q.Q Farm friends who constantly stole vegetables from her garden. How could she have possibly deleted classmates she’d known for so many years?

Tears welled up in her eyes.

Even after finishing the show’s recording and returning home, You Yun’s mind was still clouded by that blazing red exclamation mark and the look the man gave her before leaving—so meaningful, tinged with an indescribable grievance.

It seemed to say: If you have an issue with me, just say it outright.

But You Yun had no grievances against him; it was truly a sheer coincidence. She happened to run into an old classmate she hadn’t seen in years. By chance, so many people insulted him once; by chance, she stepped on his dirty shoe; by chance, she mentioned WeChat and got blamed for it...

Very well.

No matter how she looked at it, it seemed like he was deliberately picking a fight!

Zhao Zhiyu, a superstar of his caliber, clearly had excellent emotional control. Being unfriended could be brushed off lightly with a smile. Unlike her, who had been replaying the awkward scene in her mind all day, her toes nearly worn through the shoe buckle.

You Yun collapsed onto her bed, utterly disheartened, staring at the round, bright ceiling light. The orange-yellow light pillar in the center looked more and more like an exclamation mark!

Ahhhh!

She suddenly jumped up. She couldn’t keep torturing herself any longer.

Slipping into slippers, she returned to her desk and opened the website. The familiar pink homepage of the fan square gave her a warm, homely feeling.

“36D, save me: ‘Is Mrs. You updating today?’”

“Helping old ladies run red lights: ‘Without Mrs. You, every second drags on like an eternity!’”

“Wild Mother Gorilla: ‘23 hours, 43 minutes, and 56 seconds into the sensitive period of Lil’ Yi, missing Mrs. You.’”

You Yun found comfort in these affectionate IDs and their eccentric comments.

My half-sisters from different fathers and mothers, I’m back.

No more leave-taking; she was about to dance on landmines and weld the car doors shut.

She coolly updated three thousand words, uploaded them to the site, then shut down her computer to wash up. After her shower, she returned to see a pop-up from the square’s loudspeaker.

“‘Dare to touch my woman?’ just threw 30,000 diamonds at you.”

“Congratulations to user ‘Dare to touch my woman?’ for becoming top spender!”

You Yun was blow-drying her hair when she heard the announcement and nearly jumped.

What? Thirty thousand?

Throwing diamonds was the fan site’s tipping method, one diamond equaling one yuan. Thirty thousand diamonds meant thirty thousand yuan.

She put down the hairdryer and checked the backend.

It really was thirty thousand.

Honestly, sister, this is how you get scammed out of your retirement fund.

She clicked open the top spender’s profile. The ID was wild, the homepage gaudy in a glaring “kill-mat” style, and the personal bio flashed a line of colorful text: “186 cm tall high school boy, dark skin, athlete.”

You Yun: ?

What kind of brazen scammer’s profile was this?

And a high school boy—underage?

Could it be some kid using an adult’s account to tip?

Soon the loudspeaker popped again, followed by an official yellow warning about beware of stranger account transfer scams.

You Yun: …

She felt inexplicably singled out by the authorities.

Straightening up, the thirty thousand yuan in her hands suddenly felt like a hot potato. She immediately opened his private message box and after a moment’s thought typed a line.

“Youzi Meow: Are you underage?”

“Dare to touch my woman?: ?”

“Youzi Meow: Not recommended for minors to read novels.”

“Youzi Meow: Also, please retract the diamonds quickly. You can cancel within 24 hours. I don’t accept tips from minors!”

No reply came for a long while.

Realizing her tone was too stiff, You Yun thought for a moment and replied kindly:

“Hahaha, thank you for the diamonds, little friend, but Auntie doesn’t need money. My ex-husband left me ten apartments, eight houses, and five shops before he died, earning over ten thousand yuan a day in rent. I’m swimming in wealth and see money as dirt. Please don’t insult Auntie with money, or I’ll get angry. Thanks :) :)”

As she typed, her heart felt like it was bleeding. She was just bluffing to save this wayward high schooler and hoped it wouldn’t be taken seriously.

“Dare to touch my woman?: .”

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Most annoying are those who don’t reply but just throw punctuation marks. If you’re this broke, why tip diamonds? Save up and buy a keyboard instead.

Youzi Meow: “How can you read novels at your age? Reading novels won’t help you study well. If you don’t study, how will you get into university? Without university, when others are studying, you’ll be selling pancakes at the school gate. (Pour batter) (Spread evenly) (Add egg) (Spread evenly) (Add sausage) (Add lettuce) (Sprinkle scallions) (Roll up) (Cut) (City inspectors arrive) (Panic) (Push cart and flee) (Move to another school gate to sell).”

Youzi Meow: “That’s your life ahead.”

Youzi Meow: “Isn’t it vivid?”

One minute later.

Youzi Meow: “If you won’t reply, just switch to a stainless steel phone o.O”

Two minutes later.

Youzi Meow: “Blocked.”

Three minutes later.

Youzi Meow: “Reply ‘1’ to undo block.”

Five minutes later.

Youzi Meow: “Forget it, no need to reply anymore. Signal in jail is bad; write a letter! /Bites handkerchief/”

...

She sent thirteen messages in total before the man finally replied calmly, proving his alphabet keys were intact.

“Dare to touch my woman?: I’m not underage.”

Youzi Meow: “Liar o'^'o.”

That was as convincing as a patient in proctology who accidentally sat on shower gel.

After a while with no reply, You Yun grew anxious to the point of clawing at her heart. She almost called the police to hand over the thirty thousand yuan as evidence of innocence when suddenly the backend chimed.

She hurriedly opened it to find a photo.

The background was a clean solid wood desk. The camera focused on the man’s left hand, fingers slightly curled, holding an ID card. His thumb covered the photo and real name, revealing only the birth year.

1999—same age as her.

But that wasn’t the point. The real focus was the slender hand, long finger joints, no nails left long, calloused fingertips—she guessed he might have practiced guitar or another instrument.

His skin was pale, faint blue veins visible on the back of the hand, under the high-definition lens a faint rosy hue glowed.

You Yun swallowed hard. Handsome... no, beautiful.

A hand enthusiast would be moved.

“Dare to touch my woman?: Believe it?”

You Yun didn’t know what to say, so she replied objectively: “Your hand is quite pretty.”

“Dare to touch my woman?: Thanks.”

Youzi Meow: “You’d be fast at making pancakes.”

“Dare to touch my woman?: ...”

_

“You’re still interested? Even with fire at your heels, you’re reading novels!”

A shadow suddenly fell behind Zhao Zhiyu. He snapped back to reality, shut his computer with a snap, and calmly turned around.

It was his manager, Ji Sui.

“Don’t hide it. I saw it all.” Although Ji Sui hadn’t seen the exact content, he recognized the girlish pink page well. He had been an avid fan site user during college, a respected vvip member, until work kept him busy after graduation.

Zhao Zhiyu ignored him and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. “Didn’t you knock?”

“I knocked for ten minutes with no answer. I thought you might have died practicing piano, so I used the password to get in.” Ji Sui plopped down on the sofa, looking displeased.

Zhao Zhiyu: “What do you want?”

“Of course I want something.” Ji Sui crossed his legs, tossed his phone onto the coffee table, clearly coming to confront him. “Look for yourself.”

Zhao Zhiyu took the phone. The screen opened to Weibo’s trending page. The top three trending topics all bore his name, with constant notification sounds nearly freezing the phone.

#ZhaoZhiyu Surprises on ‘Time to Shine 2’

#ZhaoZhiyu Chases Love with Qingxi

#ZhaoZhiyu’s Variety Show Debut

#Angela Is Actually Vegetarian

After reading the tags, Zhao Zhiyu’s first reaction was: “What’s Angela?”

“Is that important?” Ji Sui was exasperated. “The point is you’re going on a variety show, and I, your manager, found out from the trending page! Is that acceptable?”

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“I didn’t have time to tell you.” Zhao Zhiyu sipped water, calm as ever.

“No time to tell me,” Ji Sui nearly had a heart attack from anger. “If you wanted to do a variety show, just tell me! There’s a music competition show later this year, high popularity and good reputation. Way better than this lousy talent show.”

Ji Sui was competent and had been friends with Zhao Zhiyu for years, but he loved to nag.

“That show even invited Qingxi—the one with all those press releases, making it seem like every man in the world is in love with her sea empress image. I worked hard to keep you from sharing the frame with her. Now you’re going and wasting the opportunity, handing all the material to clickbait marketers.”

“Also, the director of that show has bad reputation. Before filming started, they bought trending topics, slandered, bundled, maliciously edited, stirred fans into fights. That’s Liu’s usual tricks. The male actor last season got cyberbullied into depression and quit. The invited male star this time ran off because of his bad reputation. But you? You’re just rushing headfirst into the fire. What, your white moonlight goddess is on the show?”

The words “white moonlight goddess” made Zhao Zhiyu choke on his water and turn away coughing.

Seeing his reaction, Ji Sui was puzzled. “What’s wrong? You really do have a white moonlight goddess?”

Zhao Zhiyu put down his cup and cut off the nonsense. “It’s for promoting my new album.”

That silenced Ji Sui.

As a musician, album sales directly affected whether the team feasted or starved in the future.

So besides the album quality itself, promotion and marketing were paramount—music platform campaigns, friends within the industry, poster ads, all circulated within fan circles. Reality shows targeted non-fan groups. Although album pre-sales were high, who would say no to more money?

Zhao Zhiyu said: “I have to prepare for the concert early next year in two months. Aside from this show, other schedules don’t fit.”

That made some sense.

Ji Sui’s resolve wavered.

In this era of traffic kings, ‘Time to Shine’ had poor reputation but very high ratings. Its view count exceeded three billion, practically a viral hit.

After the first season exploded, the second season was even more anticipated, with overseas auditions added—maybe they could gain fans abroad and open foreign markets.

Ji Sui’s internal scale tilted, but the fire in his chest remained—mostly anger that Zhao Zhiyu didn’t consult him. What if the contract had pitfalls?

Yet Zhao Zhiyu remained lazy and calm, completely unfazed.

Ji Sui eyed him for a few seconds, then focused on his glaring silver hair, finding an outlet for his anger.

“What’s with your hair? Don’t you know TV shows have strict rules now? No tattoos or dyeing!”

Zhao Zhiyu said nothing, running fingers through his roots, scattering silver powder.

“One-time thing.”

“...” Ji Sui’s outlet was cut off again. He huffed, “Do as you please.”

Before leaving, Ji Sui checked the contract—luckily no issues—gave a nagging warning to “behave on the show,” then stormed off.

No sooner had Ji Sui left than a new WeChat message arrived.

Zhao Zhiyu glanced down, thinking Ji Sui might have forgotten something, but it was from You Yun.

You Yun: “I’ve accepted your friend request. Now we can start chatting.”

You Yun: “You Yun transferred 1,314 yuan to you.”

Zhao Zhiyu’s brow twitched, surprised by the suggestive number.

She clearly realized the number’s special meaning. On her side, the input indicator blinked repeatedly, yet no message followed, her nervousness and flustered state crossing the screen, contrasting sharply with the thirteen messages she sent him ten minutes ago.

Zhao Zhiyu smiled faintly, not rushing to reply.

He wanted to see how she would explain this.

The moment You Yun sent the transfer amount, she realized her mistake—but it was too late.

She stared at the screen’s teasing “1314,” a lightning bolt striking her brain. Oh heavens, she truly didn’t mean anything by it; she just wanted to compensate for the shoes she dirtied earlier that day.

Damn that official website for setting such a price!

Frozen in place, her mind raced for a way to fix it.

She hesitated between “blocking and running” and “banging her head to forget,” finally choosing to take out the trash first.

After taking out the trash, she suddenly had a brilliant idea: subtly hint that the price was the official website’s listed amount, strictly business, so he wouldn’t misinterpret it.

You Yun: “Sorry, those shoes’ official price is 1,314 yuan. There’s a 10% discount now. Could you please refund me the discount? Just the discount.”

After a while.

Zhao Zhiyu: “Zhao Zhiyu transferred 13.14 yuan to you.”

You Yun: ???

Why is this even more ambiguous?