The real young master thought he was hated by everyone

The newly released game was even more challenging in terms of mechanics than expected.

Li Heng didn’t follow the viewers’ suggestions to take a detour or delete his character to choose an easier class. Instead, with just an upgraded small knife and a copper shield, he painstakingly chipped away the last sliver of health from the initial boss, the Nightmare Baron. By the time he finished, it was already close to midnight.

In the VIP section, the ID “Dun Chi” was still there, having never left mid-stream.

Clearing his throat, he bid his viewers farewell. Before ending the stream, he reminded them about his private message, then hastily closed the livestream without even confirming the upload of the replay. Immediately, he opened Dun Chi’s account and sent a message in a rush.

He was almost certain that the “Dun Chi” who later spammed gifts was the same as the guest “werhw90ie3” from the start.

The guest “werhw90ie3” had only sent two messages, giving off the impression of someone whose understanding was still stuck in the era of browser-based games.

Moreover, for some reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this mysterious, silent viewer resembled Xie Duzhi — when he had encouraged him to spend as much money as possible in the game, his tone had been quite similar.

But Xie Duzhi shouldn’t know about his streaming account.

After analyzing the situation calmly, he figured he was just overthinking things.

His phone was right next to him, yet the screen hadn’t lit up even once, and there had been no notification sound.

Xie Duzhi hadn’t responded to the message he had sent before going live, so he was probably still busy working.

Earlier in the day, Mrs. Xie had mentioned that Xie Duzhi had started his own company and was currently expanding into new fields.

As he hesitated between sending another message for confirmation or going downstairs to grab a cup of coffee before knocking on Xie Duzhi’s door, he suddenly heard Xie Duzhi’s voice.

Clear, light, and as cool as the sound of a spring.

“Have you rested yet?”

His voice was followed by a series of three polite, well-timed knocks on the door.

“Not yet,” he instinctively replied. A few seconds later, he remembered to get up and open the door for him.

“I just noticed your message,” Xie Duzhi explained. “I was reviewing a contract earlier.”

He didn’t mention anything about the livestream.

His suit jacket was still on, suggesting he had just finished some work. In his hand, he held a cup of warm milk—Li Heng blinked, guessing that he might have grabbed the milk to avoid any awkwardness while knocking on the door.

It was similar to what he had planned to do.

At the same time, he completely ruled out the possibility that Xie Duzhi could be Dun Chi.

The trending topic had been up all day, so it was only natural that it had attracted people who didn’t usually follow gaming.

The sense of familiarity he had felt earlier was probably just because the viewer gave off the impression of being a successful person, like Xie Duzhi.

With that in mind, he took the milk from him, thanked him, and quickly invited him inside.

The computer desk and study desk formed a right angle, and Xie Duzhi sat sideways on the chair in front of the study desk, his gaze slightly tilted.

Li Heng sat up straight, feeling a lingering sense of unease. The computer behind him was still on, displaying the private message interface of the streaming platform, its soft glow reflected in Xie Duzhi’s dark, ink-black eyes.

Realizing this, on top of his nervousness, Li Heng also felt a subtle, unexplainable awkwardness.

He suddenly remembered that Xie Duzhi had entered university at sixteen—an elite institution, earning a study-abroad opportunity in his sophomore year, with philosophy as his minor.

In comparison, his own life at nineteen—or, more accurately, eighteen—seemed rather unremarkable.

“It’s not that important, really,” Xie Duzhi began slowly. “But your birthday hasn’t passed yet.”

“…What?” Li Heng was a bit puzzled.

“The contract you signed with Ju Li Network Technology Co., Ltd.”

It took him a few seconds to realize that the streaming

platform he was using, Orange, was owned by Ju Li Network Technology Co., Ltd.

After a brief pause, Xie Duzhi continued, “A base salary of 3,500 yuan, with a 50% commission on gifts.”

—Actually, those numbers weren’t entirely accurate.

Li Heng thought to himself.

That contract was already a thing of the past.

His current base salary was 4,000 yuan, with an additional 500 yuan full attendance bonus each month. After deductions for social security and insurance, his take-home pay was indeed higher than before.

But how did Xie Duzhi know all of this?

His face unconsciously showed confusion.

“I acquired Ju Li Network Technology Co., Ltd.”

Xie Duzhi added after a moment of thought, “Eleven days ago.”

“Oh…”

That explained it.

He bought the company, so naturally, he would know the contents of his contract.

Perhaps the Xie family found him due to the contract… After all, Mrs. Xie had mentioned how much he resembled her when she was younger.

As his thoughts followed this train of logic, his eyes suddenly widened.

He nearly jumped out of his chair like a startled cat. His face turned pale for a brief moment, before his body quickly heated up from the soles of his feet all the way to his face, which turned crimson.

“I-I, the livestream… I actually…” He tried to explain, but his ability to organize words was hampered by the heat in his face. As soon as he started speaking, he awkwardly clammed up.

Under Xie Duzhi’s calm, moonlight-like gaze, his shoulders slowly slumped. A sudden sense of frustration and defeat overwhelmed him.

The Orange platform’s livestream contract required a minimum of five years.

He had signed for exactly five.

There were requirements to meet in terms of stream hours, editing videos, and producing materials for his streaming room, all of which took time.

Before making that decision, he had already mentally prepared himself.

The day he pressed his university acceptance letter to the bottom of his drawer, he spent a long time reflecting, reluctantly overturning his previous life plans.

Youth was precious, but compared to it, there were other things he needed to grasp while he still could.

He had shut the door that had been opened for him, believing that his life still offered other, albeit rockier, paths. There were still choices.

Like night school or adult college entrance exams.

He still kept his textbooks and notes from earlier. Whenever editing videos tired him out, he would take them out to study.

He dreaded Xie Duzhi asking questions like, “Why did you only finish high school? Did you fail to get into college? What do you plan to do in the future?”

He had explanations, but he didn’t know how to tell him. He also instinctively resisted the idea of reopening old wounds.

It would be too embarrassing.

But Xie Duzhi remained silent, seemingly waiting for him to finish speaking, which only made him feel even more anxious.

He felt as if he had messed things up—just as everything seemed to be getting better.

“Without permission from a legal guardian, it’s illegal for minors under eighteen to livestream,” Xie Duzhi said, tilting his head slightly. “That contract holds no legal validity.”

“But you seem to enjoy it and have made quite a few videos.”

Xie Duzhi looked slightly troubled. “So I thought we should talk about it.”

Li Heng understood every word, but together, they formed a meaning he couldn’t quite grasp.

His lips moved as if to speak, but Xie Duzhi spoke first.

“The First High School wasn’t very open to the idea of a donation, so I consulted some professors I know. It turns out their university is in need of a library.”

Xie Duzhi casually mentioned the name of the university, his expression softening briefly. “Their philosophy and theology programs are top-notch.”

He had studied philosophy there himself.

…Wait, what?

Li Heng’s brain completely short-circuited.

He instinctively tried to ask a question, but the implications behind Xie Duzhi’s words were so shocking that his throat closed up, causing him to break into a fit of coughing.

Xie Duzhi handed him the glass of milk from the table again, and then sat back down.