Wish Granted

Weekend, in a certain residential complex.

A girl with shoulder-length hair was sprawled on the sofa, legs crossed, the faint blue glow of her phone screen illuminating her face.

One handsome guy after another swiped past—this one demoted to “imperial consort,” that one to “palace maid”…

Sorted and categorized, her collection list grew rapidly, her hand speed terrifyingly fast.

As a die-hard looks enthusiast, Ling Tinglan’s heart was like a durian—each spike crowded with people.

Unfortunately, the short videos of these internet hunks were all too homogenized.

Ling Tinglan pursed her lips. Another short video, the background music a cliché mishmash of DJ mashups. The young man in a black tank top swayed casually to the beat.

He wore a mask, face completely hidden, and the beat-matching was atrocious. Clearly, he couldn’t dance—only his physique was passable.

Not worth a second of her time. She swiped down.

Another beat-matching dance video. This time, it was a girl who was undoubtedly stunning. Within fifteen seconds, she completed six costume changes. The makeup, the styling, the editing—everything was so slick it was intimidating.

She glanced at the stats: 107 likes, 5 comments.

—Wait. Something was off.

Ling Tinglan swiped back to the previous video:

2.01 million likes, 5000 comments.

The scales of justice came crashing down. Ling Tinglan erupted, “Seriously?! A cheap thirst trap guy gets this many likes and shares?”

“Apologize to that beautiful girl right now!”

Hearing the commotion, Jiao Wangshu, who had been watching videos with earphones, looked up. “What’s wrong? Why so angry?”

Ling Tinglan showed her phone indignantly. “Look at this! Is there no justice in the world?”

“She’s got looks, she’s got skill, and a high-quality costume change video like this can’t even compete with some guy just wiggling around in front of the camera?”

She counted on her fingers. “Costume change, filming, editing… Just thinking about it, you know how much work went into her video. How insane is the competition? That guy didn’t even show his face, and the comments are full of praise.”

“Who is his target audience, anyway?”

Jiao Wangshu couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Isn’t it you? Who’s the one glued to her phone, scrolling endlessly?”

Ling Tinglan flushed with embarrassment. “Slander! Pure slander!”

“I have standards, okay? I’m not just gonna kiss any random guy! If he had even a shred of good looks, he’d be posting eight hundred selfies a day! Guys like that can’t handle real-life exposure!”

“And he still has three hundred thousand followers?!”

The cold numbers stung Ling Tinglan’s eyes.

“In my next life, I’m gonna be a guy!”

Ling Tinglan declared, “Be a thirst trap dude, live the rich life!”

“Damn it! Who stole my Cinderella story?!”

Jiao Wangshu stroked her chin. “That’s all you’ve got. If I were a guy, I’d go straight into ‘the biz.’ Nowadays, thirst traps don’t pay as much as bromance baiting.”

She turned her tablet around.

On screen was a low-budget short drama currently airing everywhere except mainland China. A climax scene was playing: two male leads pouring their hearts out in the rain. Clearly, they had zero acting experience—they were crying messily, faces contorted, as if squeezed by a door.

But then, without warning, they lunged into each other’s arms, their mouths smacking together with a loud “smack.” The camera began a 360-degree spiral, zooming in on the “passionate kiss” from every angle.

The screen, which had only a few sparse bullet comments, suddenly exploded:

[Ahhhh, I’m dying, they’re so sweet!!!]

[So sweet! First episode and they’re already kissing. Small studios really go all out!]

[My precious babies, please get married right now!]

…

Colorful barrage comments instantly covered the screen, hiding even a strand of the actors’ hair. But at least it spared them from having to watch that cringey scene.

“See?”

Jiao Wangshu tapped the screen meaningfully. “Bromance baiting is the best plastic surgery for men.”

“With those two faces, if they hadn’t taken this route, they wouldn’t have made it into the entertainment industry even after eight hundred reincarnations.”

Ling Tinglan made the face from the “old man looking at his phone” meme. “Wait? With looks like that, they can act?”

“Just shows how desperate we fujoshi are.”

Jiao Wangshu cupped her face, her resentment palpable. “Good-looking guys are rare, and good-looking dramas are like finding gold in a pile of crap.”

“Endless waiting for a second collaboration, surprise girlfriend scandals, endless fan meetings, nonstop sketchy social media sponsorships… Who even wants to watch a concert by someone who can’t sing or dance?”

The more she talked, the angrier she got. She slammed her hand down.

“The key is they’re not dedicated. Anyone who won’t do fanservice gets left out to dry!!!”

Ling Tinglan was stunned. Having never been exposed to BL culture, the straightest of straight girls couldn’t help but ask the ultimate question:

“Does that really make money?”

Jiao Wangshu didn’t reply, just sent a screenshot.

CP meet-and-greet tickets: SSVIP 2888, SVIP 1888, VIP 1288, Standard 888.

Scalper prices: 2888 → 7000, 1888 → 5000, 1288 → 3500, 888 → 3000.

…

“Money… so much money!”

Ling Tinglan’s voice trembled. “Just by shaking hands, taking photos, singing a little, talking a little, you can earn that much?!”

“This isn’t just standing to make money—it’s having others kneel to give you money!”

She clutched her still-beating conscience and sighed with envy. “If I could earn that kind of money, I’d sell myself until I didn’t know what day it was!”

“Knowing you’re being exploited like that and still shipping them… gotta say, you’ve got strong teeth.”

“How should I put it?”

Jiao Wangshu’s face was expressionless. “As long as you don’t get too invested, you can ship whoever you want.”

“In short, just remember one thing—

Never take it too seriously.”

After years of swimming in the “BL sea,” Jiao Wangshu’s heart had hardened like someone who’d been filleting fish for a decade.

Trusting a guy who sells BL was like falling for the “I am the reincarnated Emperor Qin Shi Huang, wire me money” scam.

“If only we were guys! We could be ready-made partners, and our ‘money’ prospects would be bright!”

Looking at her friend’s sparkling eyes, Jiao Wangshu shrugged. She knew her friend too well—a total coward, all talk and no action.

“Oh, right!”

Ling Tinglan suddenly remembered something. She fished out a crystal-clear glass bottle from the cabinet beside her.

She shook it like a prize. “Ta-da! I found this in the supermarket discount section yesterday. This big bottle of fruit wine was only four yuan!”

The joy of a bargain was so simple!

And the bottle was pretty too—clear, with intricate patterns etched into it.

She poured half a glass each. The amber liquid swirled gently.

“I want to get rich!”

“I want to be loaded!”

“Cheers~”

The sweet taste masked the alcohol’s bite, and before they knew it, they’d finished most of the bottle.

Ling Tinglan’s short strands of hair fell across her forehead. Her cheeks flushed, and her breath was sweet and cloying. Jiao Wangshu’s glasses had slipped to the tip of her nose, leaving her squinting and giggling foolishly.

“I can’t handle it… I’m so dizzy…”

Jiao Wangshu propped her head up, her cheeks fully flushed, her voice thick as if coated in sticky rice cake.

Her voice trailed off, growing softer until it faded away.

“See? I told you you couldn’t hold your liquor. Look at me…”

Ling Tinglan mumbled, but she was all talk. Just before losing consciousness, she seemed to hear a faint voice:

[Beep—, wish granted.]