She quietly supported her husband’s career, while he kept up the facade of being single to flirt with fans and move money. It wasn’t until “Silent Snow” reached the top spot and called him out in a live stream: “Mr. Lewis, your freeloading is really disgraceful.” 0 Daphne massaged her aching shoulders and saved the last streaming data report. The blue glow from the computer screen was particularly harsh against the 2 a.m. darkness, casting shadows under her eyes. The clock on the wall ticked softly, juxtaposed with the noise of her husband and his team celebrating in the living room—tonight, Asher Lewis’s stream hit over 500,000 viewers, marking a new milestone. She stretched her stiff neck, hearing the crack of overworked joints. After working sixteen hours straight, her vision was starting to blur. Daphne took off her glasses and pressed her fingers to her temples where a pulse throbbed in sync with her heartbeat. “Daphne, come out! We ordered some late-night snacks!” Asher Lewis’s voice carried through the door, full of excitement and that familiar, upbeat tone he used while streaming. His carefully adjusted voice could naturally endear listeners. Over the past three years, she had seen her husband grow from a streamer with only a few hundred followers to a major influencer on the platform. Daphne tidied her disheveled hair in front of the vanity mirror. The woman in the mirror was twenty-eight, with fine lines already forming at the corners of her eyes—a consequence of three years of late nights managing Asher’s data. She picked up a comb and noticed that her wedding ring was missing from her right ring finger—likely removed to avoid scratching the keyboard. The simple platinum band lay quietly beside the keyboard, gleaming coldly under the desk lamp. She hesitated for a moment but ultimately left it off. After applying a bit of lipstick to brighten her complexion, she took a deep breath and opened the door with a practiced, gentle smile. “Congratulations, another record broken,” she said, approaching Asher and naturally taking the half-empty beer can from his hand. “Drink less, you have an early stream tomorrow.” Asher smelled faintly of cologne, a birthday gift from her last year. He wore a white turtleneck sweater reserved for the Streaming Room, making his skin appear even fresher. At thirty-two, he looked much younger than his age, with barely any wrinkles at the corners of his eyes—after all, he never had to stare at a computer screen for long hours like she did. “With you supporting me, I’m not afraid of anything.” His voice was as smooth as silk, matching the “charming and single guy” persona he had for his audience. Daphne could feel envious glances from a few young interns. Jack, the assistant, joked, “Asher is so good to Daphne! We’re all jealous.” For a fleeting moment, Asher’s expression faltered. Daphne noticed his gaze briefly flick over the interns holding up their phones to take pictures, then he casually laughed it off: “Daphne is my most important partner. Without her, there would be no me today.” 0
He had said this countless times—during interviews, while accepting awards, at every occasion requiring a show of affection. Daphne lowered her head to pretend to straighten her clothes, hiding her suddenly reddened eyes. She was used to being the person behind the scenes, used to being overshadowed by Asher’s success. No one knew this woman, dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans, bare-faced, was actually the largest individual shareholder of StarTech Innovations, with dividends enough to live lavishly for several lifetimes. “Daphne, Asher’s followers increased by another 200,000!” Liam, an intern, squeezed over excitedly, holding up his phone. “The comment section is full of people asking what kind of girls Asher likes! So many people say they want to be Mrs. Lewis!” Daphne’s smile froze. She reached for the phone, and on the screen under Asher’s latest video, the top comment read: [Asher said he’s waiting for true love. Is he hinting we still have a chance?] Asher’s official account had replied with a winking emoji. “It’s all part of the job.” Asher quickly snatched the phone from her hand and whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her skin, “You know, the single persona draws in more fans. Once we’re stable, I’ll introduce you, okay?” His voice was so low only she could hear it. Daphne nodded, just like she had countless times before. Three years ago, after her father suddenly passed away from a heart attack and her mother later succumbed to depression, she was left with shares enough for a carefree life and a broken heart. That’s when Asher appeared, like a light in her dark life. She sold the house her parents left her without hesitation, invested in his streaming career, and even quit her job as a designer to fully manage his operations. “I’ll tidy up the Streaming Room,” Daphne said softly, escaping the noisy living room. In Asher’s exclusive Streaming Room, Daphne mechanically organized the equipment. She had designed the less than 20-square-meter space herself—the soft ring light made the skin look flawless, the cameras were angled perfectly to highlight Asher’s strong jawline, and even the pale blue background wall was carefully chosen to complement his aura without stealing the spotlight. She touched the ergonomic chair Asher often sat in, the leather surface still warm with his body heat and faint cologne scent. His script for today’s stream lay on the table. Daphne flipped it open and saw a line highlighted with a marker: “Hinting at being single can increase fan interaction rates.” The phone suddenly vibrated—it was Asher’s phone, which he always forgot to take. Daphne intended to bring it to him but saw a message pop up on the screen: [Asher, were you hinting at me when you said you’re ‘waiting for the right person’ today? [Heart]] Daphne’s fingers hovered above the screen, her heartbeat suddenly racing. She shouldn’t look; it’s private. But some intuition compelled her to open the message. 0
The chat history showed that the contact, noted as “Samantha – XX University,” had been chatting with Asher for nearly two months. Above the latest message, Asher’s avatar showed a reply: [Been single too long, finally met someone who understands me.] Scrolling further revealed more explicit conversations: [You said during streaming you like girls with long hair, so I grew mine out [Photo]] [So obedient? Next time we meet, I’ll have to check the length [Kiss emoji]] Daphne felt the world spinning. With trembling fingers, she scrolled up, seeing that last Wednesday—when Asher claimed he was attending a “Platform business meeting”—he had sent this girl a hotel location. “Found my phone?” Asher walked in, still flushed from the alcohol. When he saw the phone in Daphne’s hand, his expression froze. “Yeah, someone just messaged…” Daphne handed over the phone, her voice eerily calm, “What was today’s stream about? It seemed popular.” Asher glanced at the phone, showing no emotion, then naturally locked the screen and pocketed it. “The usual, talked about life, sang some songs. Just script stuff, don’t overthink it.” He kissed her forehead, the gesture now seeming so deliberate. “I’ll go see them off; you should rest early.” Daphne stood still, watching her husband’s departing figure. She realized she hadn’t watched Asher’s streams as a viewer for a long time. She was always busy with backend work, and Asher never actively encouraged her to watch his content. Back in the bedroom, Daphne opened her tablet and searched for Asher’s stream replay. The latest episode was titled “A Thirty-Year-Old Single Man’s Views on Dating.” In the video, Asher flashed his trademark gentle smile at the camera: “I’ve always been waiting for someone who truly understands me, not caring about appearance, just the connection of souls…” Daphne turned off the video and went to the innermost part of the closet. There, in a locked drawer, she entered her birthdate as the password and took out a folder. Inside was the equity certificate of StarTech Innovations—the inheritance from her parents, accounting for 27% of the company’s total shares, valued at approximately 380 million yuan. Over the years, she had never touched this wealth, choosing instead to support her husband’s “career” from the shadows. Outside, Asher was bidding farewell to team members, his laughter clearly reaching up. Daphne stood behind the curtains, watching him embrace a young female assistant, his hand lingering on her waist for an unusually long time. A decision took shape in her heart. She needed to see with her own eyes who her husband really was beyond the camera. 0
The next day Daphne stood in front of the bathroom mirror, the cold marble countertop sending chills through her pajamas. She stared at herself in the mirror—her twenty-eight-year-old face had lost its youthful innocence, with a few faint lines at the corners of her eyes. She gently traced these marks of time with her fingers, remembering what Asher said during last night’s stream: “I really like girls in their early twenties, with that youthful vibe…” The faucet suddenly made a harsh noise, snapping her back to reality. From the living room came the sound of Asher and his team discussing their next “Single Male God” themed stream. Daphne took a deep breath, hung the towel back on the rack, and the metal hook clinked against the tiles with a crisp “ding.” “Daphne, can you help me look over this script?” Liam poked his head in, holding up a tablet. The abrupt squeak of the faucet jolted me back to reality. From the living room, I could hear Asher Lewis and his team discussing plans for the next live stream centered around the “Single Idol” theme. I took a deep breath, hung the towel back on the rack, and the metal hook made a sharp sound as it hit the tile. “Daphne, could you take a look at this draft?” Intern Liam peeked in, holding up a tablet. I took the tablet and saw a promo draft for a live stream on the screen: [Exclusive Scoop! Asher’s First Public Reveal of His Ideal Partner—Do You Qualify?] Below was a photo of Asher Lewis in a slightly unbuttoned white shirt, looking gently at the camera. “It looks good.” My voice was calm but seemed distant. “But ‘ideal partner’ might be too direct. Perhaps ‘the type he admires’ would work better.” “Wow! Daphne, you always have the best insights!” Liam excitedly took back the tablet. “Asher mentioned he wanted to thank a fan tonight who sent ten Rockets in a row, someone named ‘Sweetheart’ or something…” My fingers unconsciously tightened on the hem of my pajamas. I knew who “Sweetheart” was—last week, when Asher was showering, I saw a message pop up on his phone: [Thanks, Brother Asher, for the Necklace, I wear it every day 💖]. Asher had explained then that “it’s for work, to maintain fan relationships.” “Daphne? Are you okay? You look a bit pale…” “I’m fine, maybe just low blood sugar.” I forced a smile. “I’ll go get some water.” In the kitchen, cold water flowed from the faucet, soaking my sleeve. I turned off the tap, watching the droplets slide down my wrist. I dried my hands with a towel, my knuckles turning white from the pressure. Suddenly, laughter erupted from the living room. I peeked in to see Asher Lewis smiling brightly at his phone screen, surrounded by a few team members. “Wow! ‘Kitty’ just sent three more Yachts!” Assistant Jack exclaimed. “Asher, this one is a true fan!” Asher winked at the camera: “Thanks for the support, ‘Kitty.’ Remember to DM me your address, and I’ll send you a special gift~” His tone had the familiar intimacy of live streaming, with a slight upward lilt—a flirtatious technique I knew all too well. I retreated to the kitchen, my fingers swiftly tapping on my phone screen. Five minutes later, a new account named “Silent Snow” was successfully registered, with a profile picture of pure white. “`plaintext 55 At ten o’clock that night, Daphne sat in the study wearing headphones, with a tablet in front of her showing Asher Lewis’s live stream. The man on the screen seemed even more striking than in person—his meticulously styled hair, eyes gentle and smiling, and a white turtleneck sweater accentuating his chiseled jawline.
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