Yu Wei frowned, gently pushed Yu Hui away, and sat upright. She stretched out her legs, only to be startled by a continued vibration between them.
With a jolt, she rolled off the bed. In the center of the bed, right next to Yu Hui’s small body, lay a phone — perfectly still.
Yu Wei trembled all over. She hurried over, picked it up, flipped it over — even the phone case was the exact same one from before she transmigrated. If it wasn’t her phone, whose could it be?
But when did it end up on the bed? It definitely wasn’t there this morning…
No time to think too deeply. Yu Wei pressed the power button. The screen lit up, first showing the phone’s logo, then her previously set cute, hand-drawn bear wallpaper.
She swiped to unlock — the password hadn’t changed. But what had changed were the app icons. Or rather, there were no apps left at all. Aside from the wallpaper, which remained the same, all of the original thirty-plus apps were gone. Only one remained: Jiumi Live.
“What?” Yu Wei murmured. “What’s going on?”
She was a little panicked, but figured that since she’d managed to transmigrate, the phone coming along didn’t seem all that strange.
She meticulously flipped through the phone. Other than the system’s built-in functions — camera, video, voice recording, and the photo album — only one app remained: the livestreaming software she used before transmigrating.
So, she tapped on the Jiumi Live icon.
The content inside was no different from before her transmigration: eye-catching titles, modern elements. Strangely enough, though there was clearly no internet here, the livestream interface still opened.
Then she clicked on “My Page,” where an unfamiliar icon drew her attention.
“Exchange Mall?”
Yu Wei didn’t click on the unfamiliar icon immediately. Instead, she checked her followers.
That glance nearly gave her a heart attack.
She had almost 5,000 followers before — how had that number dropped to just 2,600 in half a day?!
Had everyone found out she transmigrated and unfollowed her?!
It had only been a few hours, and she’d lost that many? She couldn’t understand it.
With an uneasy feeling, Yu Wei tapped on the balance section in her profile. Even though she was now in the 1980s, she still wanted to know whether the balance remained. But…
“0.”
Yu Wei: “?!”
Where did her 90,000 yuan go — the money she hadn’t had time to withdraw yet? That was six months of hard-earned income from making food videos!
Even if there wasn’t much use for money in this era, it was still money she’d painstakingly earned. And now it was just… gone. Her heart was bleeding!
No matter how she tapped or swiped on that glaring black zero, nothing changed. She was so furious she nearly threw the phone.
With a deep sigh, she exited the page in disappointment and, half out of frustration, tapped on the new icon labeled “Mall.” It instantly gave her the feeling of entering Taobao.
There were price tags and product listings. Tapping on them led to detailed product descriptions.
But this “Taobao” was a bit strange. Aside from baking appliances like ovens and frying pans, the rest were ingredients used for making desserts. If you could think of it, this place had it.
She skimmed through the prices — they were about the same as modern prices, not expensive. Still, how did such a strange baking mall end up inside a livestreaming app?
After all, the app was supposed to be for streaming. Now it was branching out into e-commerce?
Setting those thoughts aside, Yu Wei played around with the other icons. In the center was a red “+” — the livestream start button. A single tap and…
“It’s live?” Yu Wei gasped and quickly covered her mouth.
What was going on? She was in the 1980s — and yet she could still stream?
Where was the data coming from? The signal?
Before she could think further, only a minute after going live, viewers began entering the room. First +1, +1, then +1 -1, +2 -1 — coming and going. But in just five minutes, the viewer count reached 23.
In the sixth minute, her livestream chat lit up with a message from a loyal fan: “Fish Head.”
【Ahhh! What did I just see? The Little Fish Tail streamer who disappeared for six months is finally back!】
Yu Wei: “?”
Wait a second — hadn’t she only transmigrated for half a day? How had six months gone by?
【Huh? I thought I was seeing things, but it really is Little Fish Tail?】
Yu Wei silently stared at the screen. The camera was set to rear-facing, so the audience couldn’t see her face.
After those two messages, she received a “Little Rainbow” from Fish Head.
The Little Rainbow was a gift on Jiumi Live worth 20 yuan. After the 50-50 platform split, Yu Wei got 10 yuan.
Just like that, her 0 yuan balance turned into 10.
But in this era, wasn’t receiving gifts like that a waste? She couldn’t spend it anyway.
Yu Wei remained silent, not daring to make a sound. As time ticked by, more and more people entered her livestream. Some were unfamiliar new viewers, but most were long-time fans.
When the viewer count stabilized at 71, the third comment popped up.
【Oh my god, Little Fish Tail is back! Where’s the food? What delicious thing are you making today? I still haven’t figured out that durian pancake from your last video… sob sob sob…】
With one comment came more. One after another, people messaged asking about her, every ID strikingly familiar.
【Why isn’t the streamer talking?】
【Is it really Little Fish Tail, or did someone hack her account?】
【Huh? The background doesn’t look like a villa.】
【Where did the streamer go? This house looks creepy. Did you run off to some remote mountain village?】
【What kind of old house is this? Where’s my flexing queen Little Fish Tail?】
Yu Wei read them one by one, her face flushing slightly. Honestly, about half her followers were fans simply because she lived in a villa.
Of course, the rest liked watching her cook — she did look very pleasing when she worked in the kitchen.
Still, Yu Wei didn’t speak. She pointed the camera around the small room, showing her surroundings without saying a word.
Dim sunlight filtered through the window. Outside, a couple of children could be seen wandering around, but otherwise, the place was deserted.
【Streamer, did you move to the countryside?】
【That view is so eerie. Do places like that still exist?】
【Seriously, where are you?】
The comments kept coming. Viewership kept rising. But because of her silence and the still, unchanging visuals, people gradually began to leave.
Yu Wei’s hands trembled. Just as she was about to foolishly tap “Switch Camera,” a rustling sound suddenly came from behind her.
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