OFR – Chapter 364 Contact

This uproar didn’t last very long.

On one hand, Li Ran, the chairman of Quanmin TV, personally came forward to explain and comfort the grief-stricken members of the Mortal Splendor team. On the other, everyone could see from Leng Hao’s actions—transferring the ownership of the team’s group chat and then leaving—that it was his own decision to withdraw.

Yes. He left of his own accord.

Because in today’s streaming industry, no one could, and no one would dare, fabricate a rumor about such a dominant figure.

Yet even with Li Ran’s personal explanation clearing everything up, people like Warm Baby and Zhang Yuyan still cried uncontrollably in front of their phones and computer screens.

They wanted so badly to find Leng Hao and beg him not to leave, but then they realized just how little they truly knew about him.

Aside from a single QQ account, they had no other way to contact him.

They didn’t know his real name, his home address, or his true identity.

Of everyone, only Zhang Yuyan had seen him in real life—knowing he was a delicate-looking, impossibly young man.

But that was all. Beyond his face, there was nothing else that tied him to them.

This man who had suddenly burst onto the streaming scene and stirred up endless storms had now just as suddenly vanished from their world.

Even after Li Ran cleared the air, the pages of Quanmin TV were still filled with the grief of Mortal Splendor’s members.

Especially for those fans who had regarded Leng Hao as a faith, an idol, and a driving goal—his sudden departure was something they simply couldn’t accept.

Countless people sitting in front of their phones or computers had damp eyes.

They desperately wanted to beg him not to leave. But deep down, they knew the truth. The future might really be summed up in that line displayed prominently on Quanmin TV’s homepage:

“As the years roll on, the industry shall know Leng Hao no more.”

Time slipped by without notice.

Soon it was past five in the afternoon. Sitting before his phone, Mu Bai finally exhaled as he saw the uproar on Quanmin TV’s homepage gradually subside.

Yes. He hadn’t wanted his departure to bring too much sorrow to the members of Mortal Splendor.

Life had to go on. The world would never stop spinning for the absence of a single person.

And now, seeing Quanmin TV and Mortal Splendor reconciled once more—that was proof of it.

With or without him, the plans already laid wouldn’t fall apart halfway. There had been chaos, yes, but in the end both sides had come back together.

He had no doubt that with Mortal Splendor joining forces with Quanmin TV, the platform—already a top-tier giant—would soar even higher. Surpassing the fallen Douyu TV to become the industry leader was only a matter of time. One day, even going public with a market valuation beyond imagination would be within reach.

“Let it be.”

With one last look at Quanmin TV’s homepage, Mu Bai withdrew his gaze, exited the app, and uninstalled it.

And with that, he pushed all thoughts of Mortal Splendor’s members out of his mind.

He truly didn’t intend to linger in the streaming world any longer. This retreat was final.

It wasn’t that he was heartless toward Zhang Yuyan, Warm Baby, A’Wen, Xiaoyue, Hai Qing, Wentian, and all those who had trusted and followed him almost blindly. But the challenges looming in his real life were too dangerous, demanding most of his focus. And with his current identity and wealth, he had already surpassed the limits of what the streaming world could contain.

To continue mixing in it would appear absurd—like a towering giant insisting on playing in a kindergarten full of toddlers.

The real threats were figures like the old-guard elites of the Rong family and the man behind Nanjing’s richest magnate, Chen Yun.

Victory against such entrenched powers would be wonderful, of course.

But if he lost—though it might have nothing to do with Zhang Yuyan, A’Wen, Xiaoyue, or anyone else—the destructive fallout would inevitably crush anyone who had ever taken him as their faith or idol.

So leaving the streaming world, leaving those fans who idolized him, was in fact the best way to protect them.

Maybe someday, after resolving these thorny real-world entanglements, he would return to visit those beloved fans. But who could say when that day would come?

Or what the world would look like by then—how much would have changed, how much would remain?

Yawn.

Lost in such thoughts, Mu Bai let out a drowsy yawn, the sleeplessness of New Year’s Eve catching up with him. Lifting his gaze toward the villa’s windows, he noticed night had already fallen.

From the plaza near Xuanwu Mountain, bursts of fireworks lit up the sky.

Seeing them, Mu Bai remembered the fireworks he had bought and stored away.

The vendor had said they were especially beautiful once lit. The thought made him want to leave the villa, fetch them, and add a spark of joy to the New Year’s night.

But just as he moved, the ding of a QQ message stopped him in his tracks.

Surprised, he pulled out his phone to see who could be contacting him at this hour.

To his surprise, it was from Qian Yiwen—someone he hadn’t spoken to in quite a while.

Qian Yiwen: “Cold Mu, Happy New Year! Have you had dinner yet? If not, let me treat you. I still need to thank you for helping with the success of my last book!”

Seeing the message, Mu Bai smiled faintly. As he stepped outside, he replied with a voice message:

“Happy New Year to you too. Sure, I haven’t eaten yet. But don’t worry too much about thanking me—helping last time was just a small favor.”

Meanwhile, in a high-end apartment in Nanjing’s northern district, Qian Yiwen sat on her sofa. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, her white fitted sweater making her already-beautiful features look even more pure and sweet, while her skinny jeans outlined her long, slender legs with a touch of allure.

She held her phone, lips curved in a slight smile.

This year, she hadn’t returned home for winter break.

Partly, she feared she’d get lazy there and lose time for writing. And with her publisher’s annual meeting approaching, her hometown was too remote—she worried she wouldn’t make it back in time.

So, she was spending the New Year alone in her rented apartment.

Seeing families reunited everywhere while she sat by herself, loneliness had crept in. Flipping through her contacts, she had looked for someone to celebrate with.

When she saw Mu Bai in her “Special Contacts,” she couldn’t resist sending him a message.

She hadn’t expected him to agree. The thought brought a bright smile to her face. She replied with a voice message:

“Mm-hm! Should I drive over to pick you up, or should we just meet at a restaurant that’s open?”