Chapter 46: Even Now

After Bai Renzong sat down in Yijia Pavilion, the girl he was supposed to meet arrived not long after.

Her name was Yu Ruili, twenty-six years old. She was quite presentable: about 1.6 meters tall, with a round face and delicate features—a sweet-looking girl at first glance. Her figure was neither thin nor plump, and her attire was proper and moderate, neither too flashy nor old-fashioned.

After a brief exchange of greetings and a few polite words, they ordered their meals and then lapsed into a short silence.

After a few awkward moments, Bai Renzong decided to get straight to the point.

He only had three standard questions for blind dates: What do you do for work? What are your interests and hobbies? What are you looking for in a partner?

Once he’d gone through these, he’d exhausted all his topics, and from there, it would just be forced small talk.

But this time, it was the woman who spoke first. She looked around the restaurant with interest and smiled, “This place is quite nice. The décor really suits young couples coming here for a meal.”

“Yeah, I’m a regular here,” Bai Renzong replied, though he had no intention of telling her it was frequent blind dates that made him a regular.

“A regular? Then you must be doing pretty well financially,” Yu Ruili asked curiously.

“Not bad. When I was working at the company, my monthly salary was six to seven thousand,” Bai Renzong answered, only realizing afterward that she was subtly probing into his income. He didn’t mind.

Six to seven thousand a month might be the bottom rung in a first-tier city, but in Beichang—a second-tier city—if you had no loans, that kind of income could give you a fairly comfortable life.

“‘Was’?” Yu Ruili picked up on the wording immediately.

“Yeah, I quit recently. Now I’m a content creator,” he said, stirring his tea.

He didn't want to hide it—there was nothing shameful about the work.

“A content creator? On D-Station? How many followers do you have?” Yu Ruili seemed a little interested.

“I’m just starting out—only about a hundred thousand followers,” Bai Renzong replied, sipping his tea.

“Oh.” Yu Ruili’s expression shifted subtly, as if she’d instantly lost interest.

Had she been someone in the industry, she might have thought Bai Renzong’s numbers impressive—over a hundred thousand followers just starting out. Unfortunately, Yu Ruili was an outsider; the only creators she recognized were those with millions or even tens of millions of followers.

To her, D-Station creators all had millions of fans. A hundred thousand? What a joke.

It’s just like celebrities—everyone dreams of being one because all the celebrities they see are wildly successful, making money effortlessly. They don’t see the countless failures behind that one breakout star.

This is what’s known as survivorship bias.

But Bai Renzong didn’t bother to explain. He hadn’t expected much from this meeting anyway. Starting out as a creator, he needed to focus on churning out more videos—there really wasn’t time for romance.

They moved on to eating and idle chatter, but Yu Ruili’s change in attitude was obvious. Though she kept smiling, her interest in Bai Renzong’s life had waned; she just ate in silence, responding to his words only sporadically, never once asking about any other aspect of his life.

Her meaning was clear: she was no longer interested in anything else about him.

Bai Renzong found it amusing. He wondered what expression she would make if he told her his monthly video earnings were in the tens of thousands—would her interest suddenly reignite?

But he had no intention of saying so. Real results are the best proof.

...

After Han Jiayi slipped in through the back door of the restaurant, she immediately drew the staff’s attention. She hurried after Bai Renzong, with no makeup or change of clothes—just an oversized T-shirt and casual shorts.

“Boss, what’s going on?” a curious chef asked.

“Oh, nothing, don’t mind me. I’m just here to have a look,” Han Jiayi replied with a gentle smile, signaling everyone to go about their work. She headed into the dining area, quickly spotting Bai Renzong.

It was a workday and midday, so the restaurant wasn’t too crowded. Han Jiayi covertly found a seat near Bai Renzong, sat down, sipped her tea, and eavesdropped.

“Oh? Boss?” A server came over and raised an eyebrow at Han Jiayi. “Would you like to order something?”

“Yes, I’ll have the steak set A,” Han Jiayi replied sweetly, her gaze never leaving Bai Renzong.

She couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, but from the way the woman grew cold after a particular topic, Han Jiayi knew Bai Renzong’s chances were shot.

Sure enough, after the meal, the woman found an excuse to leave—she didn’t even bother suggesting a movie afterward.

“Sorry, I have to get back to work this afternoon, so I’ll head off,” Yu Ruili said politely.

“Is that so? Then I won’t keep you,” Bai Renzong replied, picking up the menu. “I think I’ll have some dessert.”

“Let’s split the bill for this meal,” Yu Ruili offered with a smile. “I know things aren’t easy for you right now.”

“No need,” Bai Renzong said, flipping through the menu. “I can handle this much.”

Yu Ruili didn’t insist. She picked up her bag, and as she left, she said perfunctorily, “Let’s meet again when we’re free sometime?”

“Mm.” Bai Renzong nodded, knowing full well she would never be “free” again.

Yu Ruili had scarcely left when Han Jiayi brought her steak set over and sat down across from him. She knew she was supposed to look sympathetic, but inside, she was quite pleased—and it wasn’t schadenfreude.

“Were you following me?” Bai Renzong asked, sipping his tea.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Han Jiayi laughed behind her hand. “How could I be following you? I just came to check on my own restaurant. How would I know you’d be here? Pure coincidence.”

Bai Renzong glanced at her steak and decided to believe her.

Han Jiayi asked eagerly, “Hey, what did you say to her just now? You two seemed to be getting along at first—why did she suddenly lose interest halfway?”

“I told her I just started on D-Station and have only about a hundred thousand followers,” Bai Renzong replied.

“And she was put off by that?” Han Jiayi frowned. “Isn’t that a bit shallow?”

Bai Renzong shot her a cold look. “Do you remember your reaction when you first learned I was a content creator?”

Han Jiayi’s cheeks colored, and she pouted, “That—that was only because you roasted me in three consecutive videos! I was just angry! I didn’t really think that way!”

“Three videos?” Bai Renzong was surprised. “Wasn’t it two? The first ‘Desecration’ episode was by Leisure Studio...”

“I invested in Leisure Studio!” Han Jiayi said, exasperated. “After I couldn’t make it in showbiz, I had to find some way to earn a living, didn’t I? Otherwise, how could I pay my contract penalties?”

“So that’s how it is.” Realization dawned on Bai Renzong: all three roast videos had hit her. He’d thought it was three different unfortunate souls, but it was actually the same person every time...

No wonder she’d said what she did when they first met.

Understanding this, he couldn’t help but laugh. Suddenly he felt much lighter. “Well, you’ve seen me make a fool of myself. We’re even now, aren’t we?”

“Who’s even with you? You roasted me three times, and I only got to see you embarrassed once,” Han Jiayi muttered as she cut her steak.

“Then let me buy you dessert,” Bai Renzong said, raising his hand. “Waiter, two soufflés, please.”

(Thank you to ‘Let Me Take a Look’, ‘What Do You Want Me To Do 0_0’, and ‘Ten Times for a Nickname’ for the monthly votes, and to ‘Jing | Shang’ for the two monthly votes.)