Three days later, as dusk settled over Chengdu's Chunxi Road, lanterns lit up, crowds surged, and the buzz was electric.
Bai Xiaoxiao stood on a corner of Chunxi Road, nerves fluttering in her chest.
She drew a deep breath and stared at the camera set up a short distance away.
Then she started strolling past, pretending to be just another passer-by.
Moments later the host, who had been waiting to interview Bai Xiaoxiao, stepped into her path.
'Hi, sorry to bother you—may I ask you a few questions?' the host asked with a smile.
Bai Xiaoxiao gave an awkward little gesture, pointing to herself as if surprised.
Only then did she nod, agreeing to the interview.
With the routine on track, the host fired the question: 'In your opinion, how much money does a boyfriend need to earn to support you?'
Bai Xiaoxiao flushed, clearly embarrassed.
Her gaze flicked involuntarily toward Jiang Cheng standing nearby.
Collecting herself, she offered an awkward smile and answered.
'How much? Well… I don't think money is the most important thing; as long as he can take me out to eat, that's enough…'
'Cut!' the floor director shouted, and the host's question stopped.
The cameraman lowered the rig and said quietly, 'That… your expression was a bit too tense. Relax a little, give a sweeter smile, show that innocent vibe—then it'll feel natural.'
Bai Xiaoxiao nodded quickly, nerves showing. 'O-okay.'
After a short break the shoot resumed.
She gripped the mic, hands trembling slightly, took a deep breath and tried to steady herself.
The gaffer aimed his light at her carefully straightened, long raven hair.
The white strands gleamed brilliantly under the beam.
Today Bai Xiaoxiao hadn't worn her usual cute Lolita dress.
Instead she'd chosen a sweet Japanese-style coat paired with a bright red scarf.
She looked fresh and adorably feminine.
Exactly the pure Japanese-girl ideal beloved by otaku.
Yet despite doing her best to follow the director's instructions,
take after take failed to meet the mark.
Though irritation flickered inside the director,
the sight of Jiang Cheng sitting nearby made him swallow it.
He forced a smile. 'Let's take a break; we'll shoot again once you're back in the zone.'
Jiang Cheng could see Bai Xiaoxiao's anxiety.
He curled a gentle smile and told the crew,
'Everyone's worked hard; I've ordered coffee—sit and relax.'
At his words the team snapped to life, their stiffness replaced by polite grins as they chorused,
'Thanks, President Jiang!'
They were contacts Xie Bing had arranged,
a team from a Chengdu agency that manages Internet Celebrity accounts.
Pay them a fee and they'll stage a 'spontaneous' street interview exactly as requested—
a classic marketing account.
Seeing Bai Xiaoxiao still seated, nervously rehearsing her line,
'Support me? I'm easy—just take me out to eat…'
Jiang Cheng chuckled. 'It's only a couple of lines; why keep repeating them?'
Bai Xiaoxiao wrung her hands, a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead.
'Onii-chan, I… I'm really nervous. What if I mess up and it all flops?'
'Relax. With your looks, once the clip's out and we boost it, your popularity will skyrocket.'
Though she already worked as a Streamer, Bai Xiaoxiao hadn't yet grasped the art of marketing herself.
She asked doubtfully, 'Really? But that line feels so fake; I sound unnatural.'
Saying it made her cringe;
her standards for a boyfriend were far higher.
Even before meeting Jiang Cheng her minimum had been tall, handsome, and at least modestly wealthy.
And preferably not in the same industry.
She knew plenty of good-looking, well-earning male Streamers,
but they were colleagues.
They understood the job too well—
including its instability:
today you might rake in gifts, tomorrow the big spenders vanish.
So few female Internet Celebrities date male ones,
and most male Internet Celebrities avoid female ones too.
Everyone chases money;
two 'online beggars' together feel insecure and attract no new patrons.
Therefore, even peers on her level had never been an option.
At first she'd even wondered if Jiang Cheng was taking a dig at her.
But seeing him hire all these people for her sake, she realized he was serious.
Watching her mutter the line, Jiang Cheng pinched her cheek.
'Trust me. In this early boom of the internet, netizens are easy to fool. Say the line, pay for a push, and your fame will shoot up.'
Indeed, Jiang Cheng wanted Bai Xiaoxiao to play Chengdu's own sweet 'Tiantian'.
A few days earlier he'd searched online for Chengdu Tiantian—
and surprisingly found nothing.
He couldn't recall exactly when the original Tiantian had blown up,
but as someone raised in Chengdu, he vividly remembered her impact.
A casual street interview had catapulted her to overnight fame; TikTok and major platforms had surged with followers,
and in short order she'd boosted Chengdu's tourism.
He remembered the clip clearly:
the host had asked the same question he'd just posed to Bai Xiaoxiao:
'How much does a man need to earn to support you?'
The girl on camera had smiled and said, 'Just take me out to eat.'
That simple sentence hit like a breath of fresh air, sending waves across the internet.
No fancy words, no embellishment—just a plain statement of a girl's basic wish.
Yet that ordinary line stabbed straight into the hearts of countless men.
Since 2016 labels like 'pseudo-feminism' and 'straight-male cancer' had flourished,
and the gender divide grew sharper.
Last Qixi Festival an article titled 'Can't Even Spare 200 Yuan—Why Get a Girlfriend?' had fanned the flames,
smearing men
and drawing fierce backlash.
Then came the piece claiming 'Ugly Chinese Men Don't Deserve Refined Women',
igniting another online war.
The web had become a powder keg:
any tilt toward one side triggered instant shouting matches.