Chapter 3: The Livestream

When Antong called, Rong Shen was chatting leisurely with friends from the business circle at a club.

He sat with his legs crossed, slender fingers holding a wine cup to his lips for a sip. Though simply dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, his aura was serene yet unmistakably that of a silent master, his presence impossible to ignore.

As the phone rang abruptly, the surrounding conversation faded, people instinctively holding their breath. Rong Shen glanced at the caller ID, picked up his phone, and stood. “Excuse me for a moment.”

“No problem, please go ahead,” someone said.

The group watched him leave, and the atmosphere in the private lounge eased considerably.

“Have you heard the old matriarch of the Rong family is arranging a matchmaking for Ninth Master?”

“I’ve heard. The Rong family has many heirs, and internal strife is fierce. The old lady favors him. On the surface, it’s matchmaking, but actually she’s seeking a suitable family alliance for him—solving his lifelong matters and boosting his power, killing two birds with one stone.”

“That may be, but do you think… Rong Nine will easily accept the family’s arrangements?”

If he could be manipulated, he wouldn’t be known as the ruthless Ninth Master Rong.

For a moment, the group exchanged glances, each harboring their own thoughts.

…

Under the pines and cypresses outside the club’s courtyard, Rong Shen listened patiently to the call, one hand in his pocket, while his subordinate Cheng Feng waited nearby.

Antong was asking if there could be a discount.

He gazed at the Roman buildings in the distance, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Yes.”

There was a brief silence on the other end, then Antong’s flat voice: “Thank you, please arrange the treatment as soon as possible. Goodbye.”

Rong Shen listened to the disconnection tone, a deep meaning passing through his narrow, shadowed eyes.

Though ill, her actions were crisp and decisive.

He lingered a moment, then instructed Cheng Feng to notify Han Qi to begin arrangements for treatment next week.

…

Dusk descended, and a light rain fell again in the city. As the saying goes, each autumn rain brings a chill; fallen leaves from the plane trees drift down with the fine rain and autumn wind.

Yet in this bleak night, a livestream app dedicated to programmers was ablaze with excitement, almost like a frenzy for a celebrity.

Because the ‘Code Deity’, revered as an unattainable legend by countless rookie coders, was online again.

This app, developed less than a year ago, had already spread widely among programmers.

Soon it was nine o’clock, and the ‘Code Deity’ began streaming.

As the screen lit up with a computer boot animation, the programmers erupted.

[123 Boss: Everyone, he’s here, he’s here, bringing high-end code!]

[Your argument wins:] sent 10 keyboards.

[Maserati:] sent 3 Maseratis.

[There’s something in your eye: Everyone, three minutes and we’ve hit thirty thousand viewers, Code Deity is truly awesome.]

[I have long legs: Seventy thousand now.]

[Writing code is nothing compared to eating buns:] sent 10 golden castles.

…

The comments in the livestream room were a programmer’s carnival.

No matter how frantically viewers sent messages and gifts, the mysterious ‘Code Deity’ proceeded methodically with the usual routine.

His mystery and popularity stemmed from the fact that during the stream, he never showed his face, never spoke; each session featured only the crisp sound of mechanical keys and layer upon layer of advanced code appearing on the screen.

His technical prowess attracted countless rookie coders to follow and emulate him.

At this moment, in an old bungalow on Yunhai Road, faint yellow light glowed through the window. Antong sat at the computer, writing code while scanning the comments. Even multitasking, she managed both effortlessly.

Warm yellow light illuminated her face, dispelling daytime gloom and adding a lively radiance.

Yet, less than half an hour in, several unfriendly comments appeared.

[Hehe You Hehe: What Code Deity? Just a pretentious idiot, a bunch of fools worshipping nonsense.]

[Hehe You Hehe: You can look but not use it, what’s so advanced about this code?]

[Hehe You Hehe: After I uploaded it, my system almost crashed. Garbage.]

[Maserati: Hey, you want to meet offline?]

[Ageless Boy: Protect our Code Deity.]

[123 Boss: All troops, attack—]

[Hehe You Hehe: You’re all idiots. Uninstalling, goodbye.]

Antong’s brow furrowed slightly, her typing slowed.

Outside opinions and slander didn’t affect her, but what truly mattered was that the code engraved in her mind was being dismissed as worthless.

Quickly, others tried to smooth things over and raised rational questions.

[5G Surfing Zhang Laosan: Code Deity, what’s the actual application scenario for your code? If it’s not practical, are you just here for donations? (dog head for safety)]

For the first time, Antong felt the urge to respond in the chat.

But a fan was quicker.

[Maserati: To the one above, who needs your few pennies? I’d guess this is code for holographic projection or AR augmented reality development. Waiting for Code Deity’s reply.]

[…]

Comments multiplied, covering every topic imaginable.

At last, Antong’s gaze burned as she looked at [Maserati]'s ID and, for the first time, replied with text: @Maserati, can you spot any problems in the first seven code segments?

The stream paused briefly, and programmers went wild.

[Maserati: Ahhh, he actually replied to me. Chosen one—Masha—chosen by Code Deity—Rati.]

[Maserati: I see no issues. If there’s a problem, it must be the code’s fault, not Code Deity’s. (pinching nose bridge)]

The faint light in Antong’s eyes faded as she read this comment.

After that, she never replied to any more messages, and at eleven thirty, ended the two-hour stream.

Backend stats: tonight’s stream brought in 780,000 in rewards.

Commission from mechanical keyboards sold during the session: 17,000.

As rumored, this mysterious figure dubbed ‘Code Deity’ single-handedly supported the newly developed programmer livestream app.

…

Meanwhile, at Villa District 177 on Cloud Summit Road, the retro Western architecture from the 1930s and old houses presented a unique sense of historical heritage.

Deep in the courtyard of one old house was a natural hot spring, mist swirling around the pool, with occasional quiet conversation drifting from its edge.

At this moment, Rong Shen sat in the pool, bare-chested, muscular arms resting on the rim, head tilted back. The ground lights cast a warm glow on his face, his handsome, rugged features gilded with light.

On the shore, Su Yiting, dressed in an expensive suit, lounged against a stone platform, teasing, “Your old lady is clever, using a matchmaking gimmick to help you sort friend from foe. The old are always shrewder.”

As the eldest grandson of the Su family, Su Yiting and Rong Shen had known each other since childhood; both were heirs of noble families, and the intricacies of inner-court power struggles were long familiar.

Rong Shen closed his eyes and relaxed his brow, his voice easy and lazy, “It’s a double-edged strategy; matchmaking may not be just a gimmick.”

“I—” Su Yiting’s curse was cut short as Cheng Feng hurried in from the front yard. “Master Nine, that person… streamed again tonight.”