The Male Stand-in Just Wants to Make Money – Chapter 20

The studio was filled with the continuous sound of shutter clicks.

There wasn’t much need for repeated instructions—unexpectedly, the pink-haired young man understood the photographer’s cues perfectly. He was cooperative, professional, and highly efficient.

“Alright, that’s a wrap! Thanks for your hard work!”

The photographer stood up and gestured, signaling the end of the first shoot.

As soon as Pink Hair stepped out from under the lights, his face lit up with a bright smile, switching his demeanor in an instant.

After exchanging a few words with the photographer, he turned toward his agent, who was watching from behind, and waved with a cheerful grin.

The others were still reviewing the shots, and since there was a short break before the next session, he and his agent sat on the sidelines, watching the crew busy at work.

Gao Qian looked at him, furrowed her brows, and asked, “Are you sure this is really your first time doing a photoshoot?”

Chen Bai sat down next to her, raised his hand, and made a small gap with his fingers, smiling. “I’ve worked a little before.”

Back in high school, he had briefly dabbled in it.

But after graduation, he quickly moved on to jobs like deliveryman, bubble tea shop employee, and streamer. He hadn’t been involved in this field for years. Though he had grown unfamiliar with it, remnants of past experience still lingered in his memory.

Gao Qian, however, was skeptical of the “little” he claimed, narrowing her eyes. “Exactly how many jobs have you had before?”

Maintaining the same smile and keeping his fingers at the same small distance, Chen Bai answered, “Just a bit.”

The photos from the first set turned out well, so they moved on to the next. He changed into a different outfit, and his hair and makeup were adjusted accordingly.

The second shoot was still indoors, like the first, but the third set was a bit different—it was an outdoor shoot on a nearby street.

The street’s architecture was in a European style from the last century, a popular filming location.

For this shoot, Chen Bai wore a dark pink coat with a dried flower pattern. A bouquet of freshly bloomed baby’s breath was placed in the crook of his arm.

The photographer pointed toward the street and instructed, “You’ll be walking over there—imagine you’re on your way to a date. The person in front of you is someone you like. Just smile naturally.”

For once, the person holding the flowers didn’t respond right away. He seemed deep in thought.

And strangely, he was taking an unusually long time to process it.

Noticing this, his agent suddenly had a realization and tentatively suggested, “If you can’t imagine that, let’s change the scenario.”

“Think of it as walking toward money—imagine the God of Wealth is waiting ahead.”

The photographer, however, waved his hands. “That’s too abstract… hard to visualize.”

But Pink Hair’s fists clenched, his eyes suddenly lit up, and he said, “I understand!”

His voice was firm and full of conviction. His gaze had never been clearer.

Photographer: “?”

Photographer: “…Alright, I guess I understand too.”

Lighting and camera positions were adjusted accordingly.

It had rained yesterday, and though the rain had stopped, the sky remained overcast. Dark clouds loomed over the street, casting a somber mood, with the occasional gust of wind.

From the far end of the street, a figure in a pink coat appeared, holding flowers in one arm. His posture was relaxed, his expression at ease.

It felt like a field of flowers after the rain—gentle, refreshing, and full of spring’s warmth.

The clouds shifted, a gust of wind carried a few petals into the air, and just then, a ray of sunlight pierced through the thick clouds. It passed through the fluttering pink hair, illuminating a pair of crystal-clear eyes and a dazzling smile.

…So this was the power of the God of Wealth.

The moment money was mentioned, this person’s eyes had sharpened with absolute clarity.

The sound of the camera shutter filled the air.

Some moments are impossible to replicate—a good photo captures the most perfect instant.

When the shutter finally stopped clicking, he had walked down the entire street without needing a retake. Now, he was crouching on the sidewalk, taking a well-earned rest.

The shoot was complete, and payment was secured. The photographer beamed as he scrolled through the pictures on his camera. Pink Hair was equally satisfied.

After the shoot, there was a brief interview, marking the official end of the job.

The magazine followed a monthly publishing schedule, and this shoot was for a special issue two months later. The final images wouldn’t be revealed until then.

Chen Bai wasn’t particularly concerned about how the photos would turn out—he only cared about when his paycheck would arrive.

Although the work was done, they didn’t take back his studio pass, and the bouquet of baby’s breath was given to him as a souvenir.

Stepping out of the pristine white building, Chen Bai casually stuffed the work pass into his pocket and pondered where to go next.

But in reality, there wasn’t much to think about.

It was dinnertime, so his agent drove him to a nearby mall for a meal.

After eating, he was dropped off at home—just in time for his live broadcast.

The moment the stream started, fans flooded in. The first thing they noticed was a pink-and-white bouquet sitting beside his keyboard.

Each flower was in full bloom, the delicate baby’s breath forming a stark contrast against the dark gray keyboard.

[Erbai is in trouble!!]

[Explain yourself! What happened today?!]

[Wait… shouldn’t Erbai be the one giving flowers, not receiving them?]

“You guys are quick,” Chen Bai chuckled, picking up the bouquet and waving it in front of the camera. Then, he placed it back down. “It was a prop from my part-time job. They let me keep it after the shoot.”

As he waited for his gaming friends to log in, he suddenly recalled something and said, “Qingzhou and I came up with an awesome team name. You’ll see it in the game tomorrow.”

The teasing was momentarily set aside as his friend finally came online, and they quickly connected.

Tomorrow was the preliminary round of the streamer tournament. Today was the final practice session.

Although time was tight, there wasn’t any real sense of urgency in the stream—especially since they had grown accustomed to playing together.

Chen Bai never stopped talking, effortlessly switching between chatting with his teammates and interacting with the live chat. He was a walking commentary machine.

Qingzhou, on the other hand, had completely adapted to the constant chatter in his headset. It no longer distracted him; he could still pick up crucial in-game sounds. His reaction speed had improved dramatically.

Some viewers speculated that, on the day of the competition, Erbai would probably take things more seriously—at least, they thought he might talk a little less.

But reality would prove them wrong.

The next day, the preliminary round of the tournament—after nearly a month of hype—finally began.

It was pure chaos, a battle royale of streamers. Recognizable gaming IDs frequently popped up in the official tournament broadcast, creating an electrifying, high-stakes atmosphere.

The viewership exploded—within just two hours, the tournament had already amassed tens of millions of viewers.

From the official broadcast, spectators could watch the streamers’ gameplay.

However, they couldn’t hear their team communication—meaning they had no idea what kind of madness was about to unfold.

Baizhou Team: Swift and ruthless, sweeping through enemies with ease, leaving no one behind. Their precision and coordination were impeccable.

The audience, thoroughly impressed, eagerly clicked into their live stream, expecting a calm and composed gaming environment.

But as soon as they entered, they were hit with an onslaught of chatter, a relentless verbal barrage that left them reeling.

“How many have we taken down so far? Oh, seven. One more and we’ll have enough for two full mahjong tables.”

“There’s a guy trying to sneak down the mountain, probably trying to escape the shrinking safe zone. Qingzhou, go ahead and give him a helping hand—send him down quickly so he can join the seven gourd brothers for a round of mahjong. If he hurries, he might even get two games in.”

“Someone just came out of that house asking me to check if there’s anything good inside for him.”

Finally, he added with mock sincerity, “Kind-hearted Chen Erbai just loves doing good deeds.”

No competition could silence a mouth that wanted to talk. The more the tension rose, the more his voice filled the air—his words as steady as his shots, his commentary eerily hypnotic.

To ensure fairness, each live stream had an open chat for viewers, but the contestants couldn’t see the messages. This meant that no matter how much his audience tried to intervene, Chen Bai could freely unleash his nonstop commentary with zero interruptions.

[Listening to Erbai’s play-by-play is an experience—new viewers are panicking, old fans are also panicking (inhale)]

[Don’t be fooled! Erbai SEEMS like he just talks a lot… but actually, he REALLY talks a lot.]

[Baizhou Team—what a cool name (solid choice!)]

[Also sounds good for digestion.]

[Chen Erbai is truly a kind soul (respect!)]

Chen Erbai, the so-called “kind soul,” ended up as the top fragger of the preliminary round. With a body count high enough to fill multiple mahjong tables, his follower count skyrocketed, making him the fastest-growing streamer that month.

The Tournament Heats Up

The preliminary round eliminated most casual gaming streamers and some unlucky contestants. Next came the Top 16, then the quarterfinals, the semifinals, and finally, the grand finale—a long and grueling process.

Unfortunately, this also meant that Chen Bai had less time to eat with his favorite dining companion—his good neighbor.

As if the tournament organizers had a grudge against their mealtime, they scheduled matches right at dinnertime. Since his neighbor’s only break was during the evening, he had to eat alone in advance.

Food just didn’t taste as good without company.

But the prize money was worth it, so Chen Bai endured.

The Top 16 and quarterfinals took about a week, leaving only the semifinals and finals. With fewer contestants left, the matches would progress much faster.

Despite the competition, Chen Bai still had energy for regular live streams, while Qingzhou, although not streaming himself, continued playing together with him online.

As the tournament progressed, his ranking skyrocketed, and the competition in his public games grew significantly tougher. Every match now included higher-ranked players, sometimes even pro players.

Since Chen Bai never paid attention to the pro scene, he couldn’t recognize any of them—he had to rely on his teammates and chat to point them out.

Back in his world, his past job as an esports commentator meant he had interacted with pro players before. This was nothing new to him. He continued sniping and chatting like always, completely unfazed.

“By the way, we’re supposed to take promotional photos in the next few days. When are you going?”

BANG—

A gunshot rang out in his headset.

His friend’s voice had an odd tone, but before Chen Bai could react, he instinctively jerked his mouse, firing a stray shot into the air.

“Wait—what kind of photos?”

Still focused on the game, Chen Bai automatically ducked behind cover on muscle memory while reaching for his phone.

His friend explained that the platform had arranged a promotional photoshoot for the Top 4 players—and the notification had already been sent out hours ago.

Chen Bai, who had completely ignored his messages while streaming, quickly pulled out his phone while keeping an eye on the game screen.