The Male Stand-in Just Wants to Make Money – Chapter 21

People’s joys and sorrows are never truly shared.

As Chen Bai scrolled through his phone to check his messages, the livestream chat exploded with laughter.

【Hahahaha, Erbai, you’re panicking!】
【Hahaha, first time Erbai actually hits the target!】
【Fruit Live’s broadcast team, well done!】
【What kind of photo?! Erbai, focus! Hahaha!】
【You two really don’t see us as outsiders, discussing this in front of us, hahaha!】

The screen was flooded with “hahaha” and “this is hilarious”, but Chen Bai ignored it. His attention was caught by an unread message that had just popped up.

As expected, at the end of the message, there was a note: “We hope for your active cooperation.”

Chen Bai squinted at the screen, then casually turned off his phone and placed it aside. He calmly re-adjusted his keyboard and, with a sincere tone, said:

“Although I really want to go… what a pity.”

Faced with an onslaught of questioning comments, he sighed and added with even more sincerity:

“I’ve gone lame. Just now.”

Pink Hair Logic™:

“Hope to cooperate” means cooperation isn’t mandatory. But since outright refusal would look bad, he needed a good excuse.

And he found one.

For a brief moment, the viewers in the livestream were struck speechless.

Just a few minutes ago, this man had been standing up, making coffee.

How had he suddenly become lame?

【Erbai, you’ll say anything to avoid taking a photo (👀)】
【(Pointing)】
【Hahahaha, Qingzhou is speechless!】
【Erbai, you… streaming despite being ‘lame’? A physically disabled yet mentally strong man (so real).】

Qingzhou, completely baffled, shot an enemy trying to ambush him, then hesitantly asked:

“Really?”

After a pause, he added, “Wishing you a speedy recovery.”

10/10 cooperation. Excellent teamwork.

And with that, Chen Bai successfully declined the invitation due to his ‘injury’.

He replied to the message, then continued playing.

It wasn’t that he was ashamed of showing his face. He just preferred to avoid the hassle.

He had learned from past livestream experiences—not showing his face was simply the easiest, most trouble-free way to handle things.

No unexpected chaos.

Unfortunately, Chen Bai’s “lame leg” excuse didn’t spare him entirely.

Right before the semi-finals, the opening screen of Fruit Live was updated with a promotional poster.

Everyone on the poster looked cool and stylish.

Qingzhou, being both good-looking and a top-tier platform streamer, stood center stage in the C-position—an instant eye-catcher.

And right next to him…

A round-headed cartoon statue of the God of Wealth, holding a gold ingot.

Somehow, in certain ways, it was even more eye-catching than the real people.

By now, everyone knew about Chen Bai’s obsession with making money—and his sudden, mysterious leg injury.

That night, Chen Bai streamed until 2 AM.

The next morning, he… didn’t get up.

Lying in bed, half-asleep, he groped around and finally found his phone on the bedside table.

Still half-awake, he instinctively opened the livestream app to check today’s game schedule.

And then—

His own face appeared on the screen.

“…”

Suddenly, he was wide awake.

The platform had tricked him into appearing on the promo poster.

Next to the God of Wealth was a pretty good-looking face that seemed strangely familiar.

But since his vision was blurry, he couldn’t see clearly before the screen switched to the next image.

The poster was irrelevant.

Chen Bai rolled over, held his phone in one hand, tapped the screen twice, and checked the game schedule.

The time had been moved up—half an hour earlier than usual.

A highly inconvenient time.

Eating before would be too early.
Eating after would clash with the livestream.

Pink Hair made a critical decision.

He dropped his phone onto the bed.

Between getting up to buy breakfast and going back to sleep, he chose—

Sleep.

Eyes closed, but not fully.

The curtains weren’t drawn, and the sunlight flooded the room, making it impossible to fall asleep.

Amidst the silence, there was a knock on the door.

Two knocks. Neither too light nor too heavy.

Still half-dazed, Pink Hair rolled out of bed, couldn’t find his slippers, and walked barefoot to the door, opening it with messy hair.

At the door stood his neighbor, Xu Sinian, hat brim pulled down, looking as sharp and intimidating as ever.

Chen Bai, still groggy from sleep, leaned against the doorframe and asked, “Heading out?”

Xu Sinian nodded.

Then asked, “Did you make plans to play games with your friends this afternoon?”

Chen Bai took a second to process the question, then nodded.

Too much effort to explain the competition details.

He hadn’t been able to eat dinner with his neighbor these past few days, so he simply said he had gaming plans.

Xu Sinian lowered his gaze and said, “I have a location shoot. I won’t be home for the next few days.”

Pink Hair finally pried open his half-closed eyes and asked, “Leaving now?”

“Mm.”

Xu Sinian pulled something from his pocket.

Chen Bai reached out and felt a cold metal object.

It was a key.

A key to the apartment next door.

He had borrowed Xu Sinian’s kitchen before, so he immediately recognized it.

Xu Sinian said, “This is for you. If you need the oven or anything else, just use it.”

Since no one would be living there for a while, there was nothing valuable inside—except for the kitchen appliances.

Better for someone to use them than let them collect dust.

Chen Bai twirled the key in his hand and said, “Okay.”

He watched his good neighbor leave, waved lazily from the doorway, and called out—

“Send more messages, alright?”

The door closed, and Xu Sinian headed for the film crew.

The set was already bustling with preparations.

The crew was busier than usual, moving equipment around, creating a chaotic scene.

In the middle of the crowd, a director emerged, holding a stack of scripts and shot lists.

Seeing Xu Sinian, he paused, looking surprised.

“You’re here already?”

A completely pointless question.

Xu Sinian responded with a simple “Mm.”

The director chuckled and said, “I thought you weren’t leaving until the afternoon.”

The location shoot would last several days, divided into two sessions per day—one in the morning and one in the afternoon after dinner.

Xu Sinian had often been absent during dinner in the past, always saying he had plans to eat with someone. The crew assumed it was the same this time and thought he’d be leaving with them in the afternoon.

But Xu Sinian didn’t say much—he just tilted his hat slightly and gave a casual response.

Since Chen Bai had already gotten out of bed to answer the door, he figured he might as well put on a coat and head downstairs to grab breakfast.

And since he was already buying food, he also picked up something for dinner later.

Back home, he ate a bun while booting up his computer.

Since there was no livestream that morning, he teamed up with Qingzhou for a few practice matches.

Their aggressive playstyle in previous rounds had made them a top contender, but it also meant they were likely to be targeted this time.

He knew they would be hunted, but there weren’t many effective ways to avoid it.

After their morning practice session, Chen Bai even managed to squeeze in two locksmithing orders at noon, earning himself 100 yuan.

By the time the afternoon match was about to start, he had just returned from a job changing someone’s locks.

As expected, Team Baizhou was immediately targeted.

In the early game, enemies kept chasing them down, preventing them from looting efficiently and setting them back.

By the mid-game, they were forced into fights with subpar equipment, making combat extremely difficult.

But in the late game, the two of them pulled off a comeback, working together to turn the tide and secure the win.

With this victory, they advanced straight to the finals, skipping any further matches.

Even though they had won, fans were still uneasy.

The match had been tough.
Both players had noticeably adjusted their fighting styles, becoming more cautious.
And most worrying of all—

Chen Bai, the usual chatterbox, had gone completely silent.

When someone who never stops talking suddenly becomes quiet, it means something isn’t right.

And that night, the man who loved money more than life itself—

Didn’t stream.

With other teams still competing, the final match was scheduled for three days later.

During that time, Chen Bai resumed his usual streams—but he never mentioned the competition once.

The finals consisted of six matches, running from morning till night.

It wasn’t just a test of skill, but also endurance.

The point system meant that previous scores were carried over, and Team Baizhou was currently in first place—but the second-place team was right behind them.

Following the cautious strategy from the semi-finals, the two players played conservatively for the first few games, steadily accumulating points.

Meanwhile, the second-place team went all out, closing the gap alarmingly fast.

By the time they reached the final match, Team Baizhou was leading by only 2 points, and the third-place team had just barely climbed into the top tier.

With such a tight gap, the last match came down to one simple rule—

Whoever gets the final victory wins the championship.

The last match happened to coincide with dinner time.

Audiences everywhere clutched their bowls of food—but no one dared to take a bite.

Since the score balance had shifted, Team Baizhou was no longer being heavily targeted.

Still, they played cautiously, looting quietly and avoiding unnecessary fights.

But playing it safe came with a cost—kill points.

Meanwhile, the second-place team was racking up kills, making the situation dangerous.

[Oh no, the second and third teams just got another kill—the prize money is slipping away!]
[Erbai and Qingzhou must have been spooked by the last match’s targeting.]
[WOC, I’m so nervous I can’t even eat.]
[Erbai, say something! If you stay silent, I’m really gonna panic!]
[I’ve never wanted to hear Erbai talk this badly. (cigarette emoji)]

The livestream chat was in chaos, but inside the game, Team Baizhou remained eerily quiet.

After escaping the latest poison zone, they entered a safe house and began looting.

It was a two-story building that hadn’t been searched yet.

Chen Bai looked around, then handed a newly acquired weapon to Qingzhou, keeping a half-broken sniper rifle for himself.

“I’ll check upstairs,” he said. “You stand watch and see if anyone’s nearby.”

Qingzhou gave a simple “Mm.”, then left the house and took cover along the wall.

From his perspective, everything seemed calm.

No gunfire. No footsteps in his headphones.

But in the main livestream feed, the audience could see what he couldn’t—

A lone survivor from the second-place team had circled around the house and was lining up a shot.

Their team had fought too hard earlier.

The risks had been high, but so had the rewards.

Now, their enemies were down to one last player—

But based on current scores, this one player only needed a single kill and a hiding spot to secure first place.

And his chosen target?

Qingzhou.

Hidden in the forest, a shadowed figure took aim.

【Qingzhou, turn around!】
【WOC, I can’t breathe.】
【Wait… this scene looks familiar…】
【I don’t wanna watch anymore.】

Then—

“Bang!”

“Bang!”

Two gunshots echoed through the silence.

Both shots came from the second-floor window.

The first shot knocked the enemy to the ground.

The second shot prevented him from escaping.

A kill notification popped up on the screen.

The camera shifted to the second-story window, where a figure stood, half-shadowed against the light.

Chen Bai lowered his sniper rifle, smirked, and casually said—

“The bait game works every time.”