Chapter 1

I Supported Him from a Debt-Ridden Streamer to a Top Internet Celebrity

For six years, I worked multiple jobs despite my gastritis to help him pay off his debts. Yet he flirted with others during his livestreams and accompanied sponsors to scenic night views.

I never complained, silently cleaning up every mess he made.

Until that day, when I received photos of him in bed with his top fan.

He knelt down and proposed, promising to marry me once the debts were cleared.

I pushed him away and calmly replied, "I don't love you anymore."

The person I loved was the young man who bought me porridge six years ago.

"Ouch—"

I curled up on the changing bench, peeling off a band-aid.

The fluffy fur of the Mickey Mouse head was sticking to my sweaty neck, while the air conditioning vent blew cold air directly onto my bleeding ankle.

Just as my phone vibrated, I accidentally knocked over the iodine bottle with my knee.

As Ryan Collins's message popped up, the brown liquid was dripping onto my phone screen.

The light came on, revealing the gastroscopy report I hadn't had a chance to check earlier: "Chronic atrophic gastritis."

The diagnosis was slowly being covered by the medicine.

I quickly wiped the screen with my palm, careful not to touch the costume.

A single costume was worth a whole day's wages from my part-time job.

"Babe, a sponsorship deal fell through. I need to accompany Ms. Chen today."

The heartbreaking stomach pain began to throb again. I tilted my head back, trying to hold back my tears.

"Okay."

To help Ryan pay off his debts, I had been working two part-time jobs for two years, hoping to clear his debts as soon as possible.

Ryan's parents had accumulated a lot of debt due to gambling. Being a filial son, he started livestreaming in his sophomore year to help pay off his parents' debts and support his sister, taking advantage of his good looks and physique.

However, over the past few years, his business had grown significantly, expanding from online to offline, and he started choosing more lucrative work.

"Ms. Chen's Rolls-Royce leather seats are much more comfortable than the livestream studio," his words from last week's stream suddenly echoed in my ears.

I clutched my stomach, trembling as I opened my yellowing second-hand designer bag. I twisted open the medicine bottle only to find that I had run out of painkillers.

They say the stomach is an emotional organ. So, even my stomach could feel it?

Before I could dwell on it, Jane, who often introduced me to part-time jobs, walked in.

"Emily, the dinosaur costume needs two layers of cotton lining to be stable enough."

Jane threw the costume over my shoulder. The synthetic fabric rubbed against my sunburned skin, but I couldn't feel any pain except in my stomach.

"The girl who played Mickey last month and got heatstroke was diagnosed with heat illness today."

Seeing my determination, Jane, despite being a capitalist, added a few more words about taking precautions against heatstroke.

The scorching 104°F heat couldn't deter me from returning to the amusement park.

"Phew, finally done."

I staggered with dizziness, stars dancing before my eyes as I took off the character head.

A cool breeze hit my neck – it turned out a light rain had started.

I suddenly remembered that stormy night in my freshman year.

Ryan stood under the dormitory building for three hours, holding a leaking umbrella, with a convenience store red bean bread tucked in his jacket.

He said, "My part-time job money just came in. Want to go for Japanese food?"