347.
(NT: 347 is twice in the original text)

Seeing my expression change, Gu Yiliang leaned over curiously to look at my phone, then burst out laughing: “Ah, that’s on me—I didn’t explain things clearly. She misunderstood.”
But why are you laughing then?! Go explain it to her!
He thought for a moment: “But actually, it’s not so bad. This way, we can ask her to help. Let her think of you as the boss.”
Just earlier, he had struggled to say “boyfriend”, and now he could say “ lady boss” so naturally? What was this? Bringing the whole family into the business?...
(NT: Chinese idiom—refers to dragging your entire family into your ventures, often in a meddlesome or excessive way.)
But well, that wasn’t the main point.
Already used to the heaps of sugar he constantly threw at me, I accepted this extra sweet without flinching and let it slide, then looked at him, annoyed: “Why would I be the boss? Tell her to stop spouting nonsense and change it.”
He nodded, lowered his head, and sent several messages via WeChat.

 

348.
A notification from Alipay popped up, and I looked down to check.
It was a message from Gu Yiliang’s assistant: “Sorry, sorry, I got your title wrong—thank you, sister-in-law!!”
Me: “...”
Gu Yiliang, what the hell are you playing at, dragging your whole family into this?! Do I really need to lock the door and sic Little Chen on you?! Is that what you want?!

 

349.
I sent a message to Xiao Chen: Starting next month, Gu Yiliang will handle your salary.
My phone buzzed—Xiao Chen replied almost instantly.
Orange Sunshine: “Wow, things are progressing fast! Yanyan, that’s awesome—thank my brother-in-law for me!”

 

350.
I blocked him.

 

351.
Although Gu Yiliang didn’t see Xiao Chen’s response, he noticed my expression had changed again. Smiling, he raised his hand to pinch my cheek.
He hesitated slightly, his hand pausing mid-air before lowering slowly. Then he said in a dry voice: “Well… good night, then?”
“Yes, good night,” I replied. It was already late. I got up and walked toward the door. “We’ve got a double-page magazine shoot tomorrow afternoon—go to bed early and save your energy to look good on camera.”
He stood up as well and followed me to the door. “You too. Don’t forget to bring a few of your own outfits, just in case.”
I opened the door and was about to leave. “All the lead actors will be there—nothing will happen, don’t worry.”
He followed me outside. “Hm. If you’re having trouble sleeping, steam eye masks help a lot. I’ll bring you some later.”
I nodded, touched. “Okay, okay. I have some essential oils that help with sleep—I’ll give you some too.”
I stopped in front of my door, and he stopped as well.
I pulled out my key card to open the door, and just as I stepped inside, he hesitated a moment before taking a few steps after me.

 

352.
What was this—an endless farewell scene?
I looked at him, puzzled. “What is it? Something else?”
He looked a bit awkward, biting his lip, leaning forward slightly then stepping back, like he wanted to say something but kept stopping himself. Finally, he ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
I really had no idea what he was trying to do. He wasn’t seriously thinking about kissing me, was he? I tried to probe: “Nothing to add? If not, this meeting is adjourned.”
He stared at me for a moment, as if sighing or letting go of something, then murmured: “Good night.”
He’d hesitated all this time… just for that?
I blinked, even more confused about him.

 

353.
I finally gave Gu Yiliang a sincere goodnight and managed to get him to leave.
I rushed to remove my makeup, wash up, and do my skincare routine, then picked up my phone like it was a sacred object.
A tiring day was finally over! Time for my reward!

 

354.
With those two explosive tweets as a prelude, today had marked the beginning of a monumental live event.
Even though Gu Yiliang had offered reassuring words, I couldn’t help feeling a lingering sense of anxiety.

So, even though I was dying to binge on sugar, I first checked both my own and Gu Yiliang’s accounts on the forums, then searched our names with the keyword “live.”

 

355.
In short, everything was fine.
Fan filters were strong and blinding—people still loved us deeply. Dedicated fans caught every little detail and celebrated it, praising our looks and personas. Anti-fans picked out every detail to criticize the opposing side. A few hidden CP fans dropped some ambiguous comments, but nothing had really changed because of the live—the fandom was still thriving.

 

356.
In the end, maybe I had overthought things.
Neither of us were A-list celebrities, and our long-standing rivalry—two “kings who never cross paths”—had been deeply ingrained in the public’s mind for three years. No one would easily believe in a sudden ambiguous relationship.
Public opinion leaned more toward a plain reconciliation, especially with the fake accounts Sista Man had bought to muddy the waters—subtly downplaying the intensity of this so-called relationship and gently steering the main narrative toward a heartwarming brotherly bond.
As for all the “ambiguous” words and interactions, they had evolved into a full-blown role-playing game. The pure fans and CP fans each had their own explanations and interpretations, analyzing everything with surgical precision—from microexpressions to sighs and intonation—coming up with endless theories.
Each side stood firmly by their stance, fully convinced they were right.
To the pure fans, no matter what the CP fans said, it was just delusional projection.
And vice versa—the CP fans thought the pure fans simply didn’t know how to recognize true love.
Both sides were stuck in a subtle yet balanced stalemate.

 

357.
Perfect. Keep analyzing. Keep imagining.
Keep digging deeper in this epic quest for “truth” while getting further and further away from it!

 

358.
I suddenly felt lighter.
I figured the girls in the Niangzi Army had probably already cooked up something new to celebrate the New Year.
Humming a little tune, I opened the Niangzi forum.
And then—I was hit by a wave of mental shock and revelation.

 

359.
This wasn’t just New Year’s for Niangzi.
It was the founding of their own nation.

 

360.
Question: How many possibilities can emerge from a sixty-minute live between two people?
The Niangzi girls gave me the answer: infinite.
As one member put it: “Sixty minutes of pure bliss! The truth was repeated 17 times in a loop!”
The “evidence” was detailed and abundant, the couple dynamic was now fully established.
The physical strength difference had assigned the roles of gong and shou (dominant and submissive), and the song we picked became the CP’s national anthem.
As for the scene where Gu Yiliang pinned me under him—they had photoshopped my legs wrapped around his waist with such flawless editing, I was genuinely impressed.
A year of bountiful harvests, a thriving nation.
Even though the sugar was already being poured all over the place, some still weren’t satisfied—digging through the depths of the live for every scrap of sweetness.
Some girls were analysing images under a microscope to extract more sugar, official counters were keeping track of every physical interaction, fans had remixed Gu Yiliang’s song into an EDM version, sharp-eared fans claimed they heard “kiss kiss kiss” (NT: qīn qīn qīn) instead of “please please please” (NT: qǐng qǐng qǐng), and self-proclaimed experts insisted the mosquito bite on my collarbone was actually a love bite...

 

361.
There were even analysts declaring that Gu Yiliang was jealous of my assistant Xiao Chen.
I burst out laughing.

 

362.
In short: Niangzi is riot.
No doubt, no contest.
Having already “learned the truth,” the identity of WilLiam—who just yesterday was still being mocked in group chats—had now transformed into that of a legendary founder, the ultimate winner.

 

363.
Smiling and savoring these sweet moments, I suddenly remembered that I had joined a Niangzi fan group. I opened it and took a look.
No luck—what a shock.
Probably because of the sugar overload and the fact that it wasn’t a public space like Weibo, the group was in a state of hyper-excitement. For every three messages exchanged, there was a new “car” (NT: euphemism for sexually suggestive content used to bypass censorship) racing off to the outskirts of decency.
Damn, these young girls knew way too much for their age!
Blushing furiously, I scrolled through quickly, but alas, my memory was too good. Every word got engraved in my brain, and the moment my attention slipped, I found myself picturing Gu Yiliang’s face.

 

364.
I turned off my phone and took a break.
Then I reopened it to go back to sugar-hunting.

 

365.
I carefully avoided any NSFW (NT: Not Safe For Work) content and noticed that within the group, a user named “Liang Yue Wuyan” (TN: literally "Cold Moon Silent," playing on the characters Liang for cold and Yan for speech) was very active and apparently well-respected. From time to time, she shared so-called exclusive “evidence.”
For example:
That Gu Yiliang and I had already gotten together at seventeen.
That we’d registered our marriage overseas.
That I’d bought him a small apartment in Amsterdam as a birthday gift.
Or that, when I got sick over the New Year, Gu Yiliang had driven hundreds of kilometres to visit me in my hometown…
These stories, though entirely made up, seemed to have the group completely captivated.

It was starting to get ridiculous.
I kept scrolling and found the latest conversation.

 

366.
Liang Yue Wuyan: “Next year, they’ll probably spend New Year’s together.”
Niangzi 1: “Can’t wait to see it!”
Niangzi 2: “Obviously! How could Yanyan sleep without seeing Liangliang’s smile?”
Niangzi 3: [Message censored]
Yantastic: “... When did they ever spend New Year’s together?”
Liang Yue Wuyan: “Go check the trending thread on the forum. Newbies can do their own research!”
Yantastic: “I looked, but that info doesn’t hold up. Last year, Yanyan was overseas on vacation with his family—there are pics on his Instagram.”
Liang Yue Wuyan: “That photo didn’t have a location tag—it’s an old pic he uploaded to throw people off!”
Yantastic: “I just looked up photos from others taken at the same time and place. Look at this billboard. [Photo]”
Liang Yue Wuyan: “Yanyan’s not even in the picture. That photo’s taken from someone else.”
Yantastic: “Isn’t that a bit of a stretch?”
Liang Yue Wuyan: “You don’t believe Niangzi is real?”
Yantastic: “?”
Yantastic: “They’re not even together!”
Liang Yue Wuyan: “Then why did you even join this group?”
WilLiam: “Please stop arguing!”

 

367.
I could clearly feel the threat and displeasure in her tone, and I didn’t quite understand why.
Liang Yue Wuyan: “If you have proof, post it. Otherwise, stop questioning other people’s relationships.”
Yantastic: “...”
I mean, there’s absolutely nothing going on between me and Gu Yiliang!
Thinking it was best to calm the girl down, I started typing softly:
Yantastic: “Yes, there’s sugar.”
Yantastic: “Their assistants are paid by the other’s company.”
Liang Yue Wuyan: “Pff, making up something that obviously fake—is that supposed to be funny? You’re chewing on sugar so fake it might break your teeth? Bye.”
[You have been removed from the chat group.]

 

368.
This can’t be real.

 

369.
A regular CP fan, debunking a fake rumour, offering actual sugar— And I’m the one who gets kicked out of the fan group?!
Seriously, this world has become too absurd!

 

370.
I couldn’t believe it. Was it the world that had gone mad, or was I the one losing my mind?
WilLiam sent me a few private messages, but I didn’t feel like reading them.
I just lay there on my bed, lost in thought, wondering if it was really my fault.

 

371.
My phone buzzed again.
Then again.
And again.
I couldn’t take it anymore and turned the screen on. It was a message from Gu Yiliang.

 

372.
Liam: “Are you asleep?”
Liam: “I signed a few phone cases. I’ll give you more to sign tomorrow so we can hand them over to the company for a giveaway.”
Liam: “For the fans, I only signed my name in Chinese. The one you have is a special edition ^^”
Liam: “Good night, sweet dreams.”

 

373.
I just lay there, blankly staring at that silly smile emoji.
Then I slowly locked the screen.
I started rolling from one end of the bed to the other.
Then rolled back.
I did this several times.
Finally, I slowly unlocked the screen and replied with a simple “good night.”
Then I buried myself completely under the blanket.

 

374.
I’ve got sweets personally prepared for me by the man himself!
Whenever I’m feeling down, he comes to cheer me up in person!
What I’m getting is real sugar—genuine, certified sweetness!
You all can go chew on your artificial flavouring!
Ha! Ha! Ha!

 

Translator : DarNan