Chapter 79: Mukbang Livestream
The staff took out an insulated food container that had been prepared in advance — it held a recovery meal specially made for Yue Zhaolin.
Originally, they were supposed to wait until he woke up and rested a bit before giving it to him, but in the blink of an eye, they’d lost sight of him — he had gone straight to the cafeteria to eat from the buffet.
“Zhaolin, eat this instead. Perfect timing — you can do a mukbang livestream later.”
Easily digestible carbs and high-quality protein — not tasty, but very scientific.
Yue Zhaolin: “Okay. Did I scare the fans by sleeping too long?”
“That’s part of it.”
Yue Zhaolin looked puzzled.
So… there were other reasons?
The staff briefly explained—
The Starlight production team didn’t allow filming, but that only stopped the morally upright people.
Just like filming a movie in the cinema is illegal, but some people still do it for profit — as long as their identity is hidden and they don’t get sued, then nothing happens.
So it’s the same with public performances on talent shows — some people will still “illegally record.”
Starlight was airing in full swing, drawing in a wave of internet influencers looking to ride the hype.
And among those influencers, there was a particular subset — people who got famous by chance, started making fast money, but lacked the maturity or experience to handle it — they easily lost their sense of grounding.
Like this time.
When Yue Zhaolin stepped off stage, his body was swaying. Someone had to carry him off in the dimly lit backstage area, where the audience shouldn’t have been able to see clearly.
An influencer secretly filmed it, then bragged about it in a private group chat. Someone later “restored” the footage, and that’s how it got leaked.
The moment Tide saw it, they didn’t care where the clip came from — the rage rushed straight to their head.
Then they charged straight to Starlight’s official Weibo.
This time, before the account got flooded, the official page responded quickly with a post:
[Dear Starlight producers, please rest assured! Little Star has already arranged for a full medical checkup. Contestant Xiao Yue’s body temperature and blood pressure are both completely normal. However, due to extreme fatigue and lack of sleep, his body entered a compensatory sleep state, so he has returned to the dorm to catch up on rest.
Once he wakes up, he’ll be the same energetic Xiao Yue as always!
Little Star also solemnly promises: the starlight that shines on stage should never come at the cost of health. We will pay more attention to the contestants’ well-being in the future.
Please help us keep watch together!
[Image]
(Yue Zhaolin is bundled under a blanket, with only a few wisps of silver-white hair poking out. Special effects on the image spell out “zzz” to show he’s fast asleep.)]
The official post managed to somewhat soothe Tide, who was in full-on rampaging T-Rex mode.
But—
No sign of him at work the next day? Tolerable.
Still missing by lunchtime? Barely tolerable.
Still gone by the end of the day? Panic and separation anxiety exploded.
They were this close to filing a missing person report.
After hearing the whole story, Yue Zhaolin said, “…Sorry, they were just worried about me.”
The staff shook their heads — it was fine. This was attention. He’d already landed on several trending topics.
“So now, use the livestream to let your fans know you’re okay,” they added — and maybe lure in some casual viewers who were curious about the whole “coma” incident.
Mukbangs were the easiest option.
Yue Zhaolin nodded, glanced at the unappetizing bowl of oatmeal, and asked tentatively, “Can I eat chicken popcorn with this? It’s oil-free.”
The meal label did say “oil-free chicken popcorn.”
“You can — but not too much.”
Yue Zhaolin’s expression was as serious as if he were discussing a research topic: “What’s the upper limit?”
“…Five pieces.”
The staff replied with equal seriousness.
Yue Zhaolin, satisfied: “Ok.”
“Then go get ready.”
They picked a quiet corner of the cafeteria.
“Oh, and — the second performance aired last night. It’s trending right now. If anyone brings it up in the livestream comments, you can choose a few non-sensitive questions to answer.”
The production team bought some trending slots. So did the companies.
Over twenty hot search tags were hanging there —
It was practically a festival.
…
[Ding! The blogger you follow has gone live——]
The Starlight official Weibo sent out a push notification.
Everyone who followed the account — including Tide — saw the alert.
They clicked in.
Title:《Starlight Livestream Diaries — Yue Zhaolin Edition: Mukbang Broadcast》
Tide: ?
Tide: ?!
Their fingers reacted faster than their brain — they clicked in immediately.
And right there on screen was the face Tide had been yearning for day and night.
Yue Zhaolin actually looked pretty good — there was a healthy flush in his complexion, and though his hair was a bit messy, he had tied it up into a little high ponytail with a hairband.
[Baby—]
[We were so worried, wuwuwu]
[Please don’t push yourself so hard again. Your health is the most important thing!]
[I was so worried last night I couldn’t even focus on the second performance. I’m just glad you’re okay.]
[Have you rested well?]
[You look like you’re doing alright.]
[Same thing happened to me when I climbed Mount Tai last year. Went home, slept for a full day and night — no one could wake me. I woke up naturally… in a hospital.]
[How’s your recovery going, baby? Are you feeling stronger? If you’re still tired or low on energy, maybe see a doctor again just to be sure?]
Yue Zhaolin softened his voice: “I’m feeling much better now. Not sleepy anymore.”
Sleeping for twenty-eight hours straight was a bit too surreal — honestly, if he were a fan on the outside looking in, he’d be terrified too.
“I’m sorry for making everyone worry. I’ll be more careful from now on.”
He confessed apologetically.
As he lowered his head, the little high ponytail on top of his head “bowed” along with him.
[So cute]
[??]
[Guilty cat.JPG]
[Who’s talking? That voice is so deep and robotic]
[Baby… the bowl of porridge in front of you just spoke. That’s terrifying]
When Yue Zhaolin looked up and saw the flood of comments, the tone had completely shifted.
Yue Zhaolin: “Hm? Voice effect?”
Voice changer?
The phone he was using had been handed to him by the staff — he’d only pressed the “start livestream” button. Was this some kind of prank “easter egg” they’d set up?
He glanced at the staff behind the camera. They didn’t react.
So he put down the spoon, grabbed the phone off the tripod, and started investigating.
“Give me a second, everyone.”
But the voice was still all robotic bass.
[The moment he spoke, I thought it was Venom — that voice is so deep]
[He’s clearly speaking so gently, but it sounds like “Iron-Blooded Softie Venom”]
[The streamer probably can’t hear his own voice change, right?]
Two pages of comments rolled by while Yue Zhaolin continued to look down, focused on his phone.
[That super serious expression]
[Frowny kitten]
[I’m dying, is baby still struggling to find the voice changer switch?]
Tan Shen offered help: “I’ve streamed before — want me to help?”
“Wait, I found it.”
The two voices rang out nearly at the same time.
[Oh snap]
[There are other people there? From the background noise, sounds like a big open space]
[Was that Tan Shen’s voice?]
“It’s the cafeteria,” Yue Zhaolin replied to the comments first.
Then he switched to the rear camera.
In the frame appeared Tan Shen, Cen Chi, and the recovery meal the production team had prepared for him.
The two greeted the camera briefly but didn’t say much.
This was a livestream meant to reassure Yue Zhaolin’s fans — both of them knew how much he valued his supporters, and neither intended to steal the spotlight.
[Whoa, quite a few people here]
[Ah, the cafeteria — makes sense now]
Tide casually ignored the two outsiders in the background:
[Baby, what are you eating?]
Yue Zhaolin: “There’s yam oat porridge, shrimp with broccoli, winter melon and kelp soup, and oil-free chicken popcorn.”
The last item consisted of exactly five lonely pieces.
He switched the camera back to front-facing, adjusted the phone on the stand, and tweaked the angle.
“Is this okay?”
Once the comments gave their approval, Yue Zhaolin picked up his spoon and took a bite of the oatmeal porridge.
Mm… not great. As expected, it needed chicken popcorn to help it go down.
[These dishes are perfect for post-hibernation recovery. Props to the production team]
[That expression says everything — tastes bad lol]
[We’ll forgive you after you finish your food]
[This livestream is so close-up, I can really see the frizz in his hair]
[Bleached hair always looks like that]
[I want Moon to keep his silver hair, but thinking about how bleaching damages the scalp… maybe not. Black hair looks great too]
[Babe doesn’t seem to have stubble — did he start managing his appearance right after waking up?]
[His pores are tiny, and his skin tone is so even. If I looked like this, I’d wake up laughing every day]
Yue Zhaolin saw a certain comment — and without reacting, casually speared a shrimp.
Chew chew chew.JPG
[?]
[Why is he suddenly burying his head and eating? Okay, we all know healthy food isn’t tasty.]
[Did he see a comment?]
[Was it something bad?]
[WHO DARED?!]
Yue Zhaolin knew — once fans got curious, they turned into full-on Sherlock Holmes.
There was no escape, so instead of dodging, he decided to go with the flow and bluff his way through.
“It’s really nothing, don’t scroll back through the chat, just wait until the stream ends…”
Tide, who had been ready to go full protective mode, paused.
Because Yue Zhaolin’s reaction didn’t really seem like someone who’d seen a mean comment — more like… embarrassment?
Then, a comment flew across the screen like a smoking gun:
[I checked the replay. Was it because someone called him “husband”? That’s the only one that stands out in that part of the chat.]
[?]
[No way… hasn’t Moon already been desensitized to that?]
[Desensitized or not, let’s test it. I’ll go first — Husband~]
[Hubby]
[Hubby hubby hubby]
Suddenly, the entire stream chat became an echo chamber of “husband”.
In theory, yes — Yue Zhaolin had been desensitized.
But back during the third performance, his brain short-circuited and he ended up saying a bunch of heartfelt things off-script to the fans.
He hadn’t meant to come off as pitiful or emotionally manipulative —
He was just being real.
The term “husband” felt like a trigger — a reminder.
A reminder that baring one’s true self like that… always felt a bit unnatural in hindsight.
[Oh snap, his ears are red]
[It’s only been a few days — why is he suddenly pure and innocent again?]
[Just watched the Crane Bell stage — was mesmerized by his cold immortal persona, and now I open this livestream and get hit with CUTENESS overload?!]
[Same, came from the trending page]
[The contrast with his second performance image is HUGE]
[I’ve never watched survival shows before, but I’ve rewatched Crane Bell dozens of times. It’s hands-down the best xianxia-style stage in all of domestic entertainment.]
[Please. Crane Bell was all flash — Gu Xiao’s All Things Grow on Dance Storm of China is what real classical dance looks like. Stop comparing.]
[So it’s “Best xianxia-style stage by an idol on a survival show in domestic entertainment,” huh?]
[Sure, as long as you tack on enough qualifiers, anyone can be #1. What a joke.]
[Who let these trolls in here playing tag-team? You good?]
[Tide-sisters, send your comments up top — don’t engage with them.]
There were enough people in the stream now that just one supportive comment each could bury any negativity.
So when Yue Zhaolin finally looked up again after calming down a bit, all the comments were now praising Crane Bell.
[I’ve watched the fancam so many times I’m turning it into a QR code for my tombstone — I’ll die in peace.JPG]
[Only saw the stage, heading back now to savor Episode 8 in full]
[Sis, go ASAP! Episode 8 is stuffed full of Moon content — pure gold!]
[The costume in Crane Bell was way too celestial. I didn’t even dare call him hubby]
[It’s fine — immortal lords are destined to face love tribulations. Perfect chance to go through one with us, right, hubby?]
Yue Zhaolin: “……”
How did the conversation circle back again?
[Guys, he’s shy! Stop calling him hubby already, it’s too forward!]
[Okay then — wife~]
And just like that, the barrage of comments shifted — now it was a chorus of “wife” instead.
Tide: Finally being able to tease Yue Zhaolin again… what a feeling.JPG