QHM Chapter 82

Xu Yin stared at the user ID for a moment.

This was clearly not one of the three random viewers who had watched his livestream earlier.

…Did someone else watch the replay later?

With this thought, Xu Yin tapped into the “Videos” section of the mobile backend and then froze.

In just a short period, his replay had already garnered over ten thousand views, with more than two thousand comments and bullet chats. His follower count had even increased by a thousand.

Xu Yin recalled that one of the three viewers had mentioned planning to post on a forum before leaving. But wasn’t this instance supposed to have very little presence? Could just discussing it in a forum thread really generate this much attention?

With skepticism, Xu Yin clicked into the comment section for a closer look… and understood.

The fans of the “God of Chuuni” had already started a heated argument on the forum. No wonder it had drawn so much attention.

Xu Yin shook his head.

Of course, he had no idea that because some mysterious “deep-pocketed fool” had just gifted a million-dollar donation, the forum was now exploding for a second round.

At this moment, Xu Yin went back to check out this user, “ly,” narrowing his eyes.

No matter how much they liked his new video, throwing out a million was still too outrageous.

After a brief moment of thought, he typed a private message under his desk:

Yin: “Hello, I just received your gift. Thank you very much, but are you sure you didn’t send it by mistake?”

In another city, inside an apartment.

The man straightened his back the moment he received the message.

His gaze softened as he looked at the words, and he quickly replied.

Soon, Xu Yin received—

ly: “I didn’t send it by mistake.”

ly: “It’s for you.”

Xu Yin: “…”

He hesitated for a moment before typing again.

Yin: “I still want to say thank you, but a million-dollar gift is really too much. If you like my content, following my livestream is enough. Would it be okay if I returned the gift to you?”

Yan Shixiu paused in surprise, furrowing his brows slightly as he thought for a moment.

ly: “I hope you’ll accept it.”

ly: “I really like… your videos.”

Xu Yin fell into deep silence.

018: “I think stopping at ‘your’ makes the most sense!! Otherwise, no matter how much money someone has, they wouldn’t just throw around a million like it’s pocket change!”

Hmm…

It wasn’t that Xu Yin was narcissistic.

But just as Xiao 018 had said, on a livestream platform like this, no matter how much someone liked a streamer, it was hard to believe they would drop a million-dollar gift after just getting to know them.

When it came to this user named ly, Xu Yin was truly…

His tone grew firmer.

Yin: “Sorry, but I really can’t accept this. Why don’t you contact customer support and request a refund?”

Although the process might be a bit complicated, as long as there was a valid and reasonable explanation, Horror Chain would approve a refund request after review.

Yan Shixiu: “…………”

His brows furrowed even tighter.

ly: “But I really want to give this to you.”

Yin: “But I really can’t accept it.”

ly: “I don’t have a valid reason to request a refund.”

Yin: “You can say you misclicked.”

ly: “But I didn’t misclick.”

Xu Yin: Where did this blockhead come from?

Then, Xu Yin watched as the chat displayed “The other party is typing…” for a long time, but no message ever appeared.

On the other end, Yan Shixiu sat there with a deep frown. He typed, deleted, typed again—then after a long pause, his eyes flickered with realization.

He erased everything, stopped moving, and simply stared at the chat window, his expression incredibly serious.

A moment later—

018: “Huh? He’s playing dead but still insists on giving you the gift? What kind of determination is this?! Shocked.jpg”

Xu Yin couldn’t help but laugh.

With a sigh, he sent one last message.

Yin: “Then I’ll try requesting a refund on your behalf.”

If that didn’t work, once the donation was processed, he’d just transfer the money back to this stubborn blockhead himself. Fortunately, Horror Chain was a fair platform—streamers received 100% of their gifts with no commission taken.

With that thought, Xu Yin shook his head with a smile. Just as he was about to put his phone down, something caught his attention.

Wait.

A blockhead.

A stubborn, wooden brain.

In this entire world… Was there really another man who could make him think this way?

Xu Yin’s heartbeat quickened.

Xu Yin immediately reopened the chat with user ly, watching as the other party once again fell into “Typing…”.

This time, they weren’t playing dead anymore, but the prolonged hesitation in that status made it clear just how conflicted they were.

Oh?

Xu Yin could almost sense a hint of helplessness—and maybe even a little grievance—coming through the screen.

His gaze deepened with meaning.

He scrolled back through their chat history, rereading the previous messages. The more he read, the more vividly he could picture a familiar figure. Xu Yin could even guess what kind of expression the other person had while typing those messages.

018: “Wait, hold on. Are you saying this might be your Lao gong?”

Xu Yin: “Doesn’t the way he talks seem familiar to you?”

018 was silent for a moment before reluctantly admitting, “…If we could convert it into voice, yeah, it really does sound like him…”

018: “Damn, you’re right! Who else but your Lao gong would be dumb enough to drop a million on you right after meeting you? This must be the instinct of his love for you! But to be this dumb, that instinct must be incredibly strong!”

018’s words were unbearably corny, but Xu Yin’s expression was filled with amusement.

He thought for a moment, then smiled slyly and sent a message:

Yin: “I wouldn’t mind accepting it… but could you send me a photo first? I’m really curious to see what you look like.”

018: “Damn, this is giving dog boyfriends flirting vibes. And a very straightforward version at that.”

On the other end, Yan Shixiu saw the message— !”!”

His ears instantly turned red.

He stiffly stood up from the couch, glancing around the room as if someone might be watching. Then, with a straight face, he raised his phone high, adjusting to the standard 45-degree selfie angle.

In the camera, the man’s furrowed brows and tense expression made him look unnervingly serious.

Yan Shixiu took a deep breath and forced himself to relax his brows.

Then, he tried to smile.

Adjusted the angle.

Tried again.

Meanwhile, Xu Yin waited leisurely for a full three minutes.

And finally, a photo arrived.

The moment Xu Yin saw it, he immediately covered his lips and let out a quiet laugh.

His roommate, startled by the sudden laughter, turned to him in confusion. “What’s so funny?”

Xu Yin’s eyes curved into a smile as he shook his head and murmured, “Nothing.”

Just caught myself a very adorable, stubborn blockhead.

In the photo, the man’s expression was unbelievably stiff.

It looked exactly like the little photo that Huo Lingqi had once given him in the previous world.

But—he was very handsome.

Very good-looking.

And very, very cute.

Xu Yin’s gaze flickered with mischief as he decided to tease him a little.

Yin: “You look a lot like Yan Shixiu.”

Yan Shixiu: “…………”

Xu Yin: “But Yan Shixiu would never openly send a photo to a stranger online like this.”

Yan Shixiu had just typed the three words “I am him” when he suddenly froze, his face showing an expression of uncertainty.

Xu Yin: “Though, I do like him a lot.”

“…………” Yan Shixiu’s lips slowly curled into a smile.

After a moment’s thought, he asked—reservedly—”What do you like about him?”

Xu Yin: “He’s very handsome.”

Xu Yin: “He looks just like my dream guy.”

Yan Shixiu: “!”

Still maintaining his composure, he asked, “Besides that?”

Xu Yin: “His singing is amazing, and he’s also really cute.”

Xu Yin: “I also like his reaction memes.”

Xu Yin: “[Do you think I’m cute.jpg]—isn’t it adorable?”

That meme was something Xu Yin had just swiped from his class group chat.

The smile in Yan Shixiu’s eyes deepened.

After thinking for a moment, he responded earnestly, “I like him a lot too.”

Seeing this message, Xu Yin raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips curling into a knowing smirk.

Oh? So he’s not planning to reveal himself just yet?

And the reason why—

Was he trying to get Xu Yin to say even more why I like Yan Shixiu lines?

That little thought process was almost too easy to guess. Xu Yin chuckled but decided to indulge him.

Yin: “Is that so? What a coincidence.”

ly: “Will you accept my gift?”

Yin: “Since you also like Yan Shixiu, I suppose I’ll accept it—for now.”

ly: “Okay.”

Xu Yin thought to himself, I don’t know what exactly is going through my hubby’s[mfn]TL: Let’s just use ‘hubby’ from now on, instead of ‘Lao gong’ since I find it more affectionate as an endearment hehe[/mfn] adorable head right now, but since I’ve confirmed it’s him, I’ll just consider this huge sum as temporarily keeping it safe for my spendthrift husband.

Yin: “I’m in class. We’ll talk later.”

ly: “Okay, focus on your lesson.”

*

Now that he had found his hubby, Xu Yin felt at ease.

He paid close attention in class and, afterward, casually browsed through his hubby’s Weibo.

In this lifetime, his hubby had gained a massive following. But, as with any public figure, a large fanbase naturally came with its share of haters.

Xu Yin scrolled through the comments, and sure enough, soon encountered some discordant voices.

Xu Yin raised an eyebrow and casually reported the comments.

Meanwhile, on the other end, the man rewatched Xu Yin’s latest gameplay video twice before finally, still unsatisfied, moving on to his older videos.

The comment sections of those older videos were relatively clean.

—Ever since Xu Yin restricted new accounts from posting comments or sending live chat messages, the abusive remarks from the God of Chuuni’s fans, who had been using fresh accounts to spam insults, naturally disappeared.

—In fact, back then, some bystanders and fans had tried reporting those attacks on behalf of the original host, but the God of Chuuni’s fanbase was too aggressive, and the original host was too much of a newcomer to fight back.

Of course, not every toxic comment had been filtered out.

So as Yan Shixiu continued watching, noting the clear differences between the player in the video and his beloved’s usual mannerisms, he also spotted one or two particularly unfriendly comments. His brows furrowed.

Glancing at the dates of those videos and messages, he quickly understood the situation. Yet, his expression remained serious as memories of similar incidents from past worlds surfaced in his mind.

Ever since regaining his memories, Yan Shixiu had become increasingly certain that these worlds felt artificially constructed.

And his beloved’s “past” seemed more like a pre-set scenario before a game began.

Still, even knowing that…

His expression darkened as he turned to the forums.

He spent an hour catching up on the situation, then returned and, with a cold and indifferent look, started systematically reporting the remaining toxic comments.

—

Meanwhile, on the forums—

The God of Chuuni’s fans had been fighting a meaningless battle, but more and more bystanders were becoming obsessed with Xu Yin’s latest video.

They realized that the initial discussions in the forum had been spot-on. Despite Horror Orphanage being a small instance, and despite the solution to clearing it seeming simple once revealed, actually executing it in-game was incredibly difficult.

Initially, a few streamers had invited X to join their run. But since someone had already cleared the dungeon, X figured there was no point in attempting it himself.

However, after seeing the God of Chuuni’s fans making a scene, he got curious and decided to check out the situation. And as he read further, his curiosity about the game started to grow.

That afternoon, he launched the game and began streaming.

His fans were surprised—Huh? He actually picked a small instance? He hadn’t played anything below mid-level in ages!

Intrigued, they tuned in, only to witness X, a top-tier player, getting completely swarmed by the undying NPCs outside the orphanage.

Barely escaping in a sorry state, he managed to reach the dean’s office and retrieve the syringe, but he couldn’t wield it properly—ultimately getting overwhelmed by the NPCs and crushed to death.

Game over.

His fans were shocked.

X actually failed to clear a small instance?!

With millions of followers, X’s defeat spread like wildfire. His fans began spreading the news, only to discover that the forum had already been discussing this dungeon and had already figured out the strategy to clear it.

And yet, X… still failed.

X even posted on Weibo, half-laughing, half-crying:

“This is the first time I’ve ever encountered something like this in a small instance. Planning to give it another shot tonight… Yin is seriously impressive.”

Only then did the other streamers realize that Horror Orphanage was really something special. Some were drawn in out of curiosity, while others just wanted to ride the trending wave, so they all started attempting the game—

For a while, the Horror Chain homepage was flooded with live streams of various streamers taking on Horror Orphanage, with one defeat after another rolling in.

At this point, when people went back to rewatch Yin’s gameplay, they all gained a newfound appreciation for this Angel’s combat skills…

—

That evening, when Xu Yin returned to his dorm, he found that his follower count had already surpassed 5,000, a growth rate so fast that even he was a little surprised.

Scattered among his notifications were small donations.

Since they were within a reasonable range, he didn’t mind—he simply considered this his first official earnings.

After dinner, feeling intrigued, Xu Yin selected a simple dungeon: Hot-Blooded Alley.

The moment he went live, viewers flooded in at an astonishing speed.

As soon as the game screen appeared, the chat exploded:

“He’s here, he’s here!”

“Finally, another game after waiting all afternoon!”

“5,000 followers in a single afternoon… that’s crazy fast…”

“Here to watch Yin God absolutely wreck some NPCs, hehe!”

Thanks to his Horror Orphanage gameplay video, Xu Yin’s popularity was skyrocketing.

In the current era of digital overload, going viral was both incredibly difficult and surprisingly simple—it all depended on whether you could produce one truly standout video. Xu Yin had undoubtedly done so, and in the most hardcore way possible.

Among his growing fanbase, some already knew about his history with the God of Chuuni, while others had no idea. But after catching up on the drama via the forums, they ended up being more shocked by the God of Chuuni instead—then, regaining their senses, they quickly fled to Xu Yin’s stream.

And after reviewing his older videos, many of these new fans became convinced that over the past month, this Prince Angel must have secretly been training offline just to beat up the God of Chuuni in real life.

If Xu Yin knew that his previous clarifications were still widely disbelieved, he’d probably be exasperated.

But he didn’t know.

So at this moment, when he saw the barrage of chat messages filling his screen, his only reaction was:

“?”

Wreck NPCs?

Xu Yin let out a laugh. He parted his lips, about to say something, but after a moment of thought, decided against it. Let the viewers enjoy themselves however they want.

The chat, however, exploded with excitement.

“What’s wrong? Why do you look like you’re holding something back?!!”

“Say something! Let me hear your voice!”

“Yes, please! Host, speak! I need to hear that divine voice of yours!”

Xu Yin: What on earth happened this afternoon?

Just then, his sharp eyes caught a particular word among the barrage of messages—

“Cute.”

And almost immediately after, the chat erupted again.

“Shit, the big spender is here!”

“Aircraft carrier-tier whale incoming!”

“Daddy LY has arrived!”

Xu Yin curved his lips into a smile.

The moment he did, his in-game avatar mirrored the expression.

The audience had never seen this before.

Not in his previous videos, and not in the Horror Orphanage dungeon earlier that day.

In Horror Orphanage, the angel’s smiles had always been gentle, helpless, and refined.

But now—

The smile on his face was deep, filled with unspoken meaning.

And just a little bit… flirtatious.

The audience collectively sucked in a sharp breath.

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the entire chat exploded into chaos:

“AAAAAH WHY IS THE HOST SMIRKING LIKE SOME DEVILISH ROGUE?!”

“SO. DAMN. CHARMING. AHHHHH!!”

“WHO ARE YOU SMILING AT?! STOP IT, YOU’RE MAKING ME WEAK!! ><“