FSGOR Ch101 – Extra Anchor

Jiang Tian heard his childhood friend firmly insist that the top donor had ulterior motives, which made him understandably anxious. To calm his nerves before the planned voice call, he decided to take a walk and stream.

Coincidentally, while walking and streaming, he came across a junior student from a financially struggling family who had been in a bike accident. Jiang Tian accompanied him to the hospital and offered to cover the medical bills. However, he forgot to turn off his livestream, and his kind, handsome act was witnessed by the top donor.

President Chu sent a considerate message saying there was no rush for the call, and Jiang Tian could contact him when free. This made Jiang Tian feel relieved and think that the top donor wasn’t so bad after all. But immediately afterward, the donor praised him for being “obedient” and hinted at wanting to call him ‘baby.’ Jiang Tian remained silent and politely declined—but still gave him a special privilege: ‘That might not be appropriate. Can we use a different nickname?’”

Due to city roadworks, the junior student had taken a part-time delivery job to support his family. While checking an address on his phone while biking, he hadn’t been watching the road closely and got into an accident. He was seriously hurt. The ER diagnosed him with a mild concussion, and follow-up treatment would be costly—all paid in advance by Jiang Tian.

“Senior, I heard you just got the compensation for your leg injury…”

The boy, dazed and lying in a hospital bed, still remembered Jiang Tian’s previous accident. It had happened during a school soccer match the month before—Jiang Tian had been injured due to foul play by a rival team. He had paid for his own medical treatment and only recently received compensation.

Jiang Tian’s family wasn’t wealthy either. The junior’s eyes welled up as he promised to pay him back somehow, though he might have to do it in installments due to his family’s situation. Jiang Tian kept reassuring him that it was okay and told him not to worry—there was nothing more important than recovery.

Of course, Jiang Tian did what he could but didn’t stay at the hospital too long. Once the junior’s grandmother arrived, Jiang Tian explained the situation, refused the few hundred yuan she had saved through frugal living, and said he had to go.

By the time Jiang Tian left the hospital, it was nearly 10 p.m. He updated his streaming account bio to explain the accident and reassure his fans. Then, he quickly reached out to the top donor to apologize for bailing on their voice call.

Afternoon Tea: Don’t worry about it.

Afternoon Tea: I’m not that unreasonable.

Afternoon Tea: I just wanted to hear your voice.

“…”

Jiang Tian had almost forgotten about that part. He hadn’t thought too much of it—if anything, the donor’s kindness had improved his impression of him. Walking slowly under the midsummer night sky, he took the initiative and sent a call request.

Beep—

The call connected after one ring, followed by the soft sound of a man’s breathing.

Jiang Tian unconsciously tightened his grip on the phone. Swallowing nervously, he greeted, “Hello.”

The man didn’t reply right away—only the sound of his breath came through. Jiang Tian pulled the phone away and checked the screen to make sure the call was still ongoing.

“Can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

Finally, a voice.

Jiang Tian froze slightly. The man’s voice was low, magnetic, and sexy—like the scent of fine, expensive red wine wafting toward him. It left him at a loss for words.

Meanwhile, Chu Xuyu was indeed sipping red wine, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his high-rise office. The city lights below felt distant and lifeless.

Yet on the other end of the call, the sounds of cicadas and summer wind filled his ears.

The CEO’s throat tightened as he imagined the boy walking through the night, slightly flushed, handsome yet shy, courageously making that phone call.

He couldn’t help but smile.

“Is everything taken care of?”

“Mm.” Jiang Tian hesitated. “What should I call you?”

He couldn’t very well keep calling him “Top Donor”—that would make him sound like he was just after the guy’s money.

Chu Xuyu: Call me Ge.

Jiang Tian: …Ge.

Chu Xuyu: Good boy.

Chu Xuyu: If I can’t call you ‘baby,’ then what can I call you?

The road near the hospital was mostly empty, with only the occasional car passing by, casting fleeting beams of light.

Jiang Tian, worried someone might see his expression, turned his youthful, handsome face toward a nearby building, lowering his voice: “You can call me Xiao Tian.”

Chu Xuyu: Xiao Tian… sounds like Xiao Tian (Little Sweet)?

Jiang Tian: Mm.

Chu Xuyu: Sweetheart.

Jiang Tian: …That might not be appropriate.

There were no mosquitoes, yet Jiang Tian scratched the back of his neck. His fair skin turned slightly red—not from bug bites, but from the awkwardness of the moment.

The atmosphere had become… subtly charged.

However, the man on the other end let out a low chuckle, as if sighing at how cute he was.
“Looks like you’re a rather proper little streamer.”

Jiang Tian: “…I guess so.”

He didn’t know what to say. Wandering aimlessly, unsure even of the direction home, his mind was consumed with trying to explain: I’m not that kind of weird streamer.

Suddenly—

The man asked in a low voice,
“Do you know why I want to hear your voice?”

Jiang Tian: “No idea.”

“I have a severe case of insomnia.”

“…” Jiang Tian paused, then ventured a guess:

“Does my voice help you fall asleep faster?”

Chu Xuyu: “Mm.”

“You explaining things to your friend is pretty hypnotic.”

“But also, your voice is just very nice. I really like it.”

Jiang Tian: “……”

Why didn’t you say that sooner?

He had misunderstood for so long, thinking the top donor was going to do some weird, inappropriate things while listening to his voice—like in those shady web novels.

Relieved, a small smile crept up on his lips.

“No problem, ge.”

“I think I can still stream for about a month.”

“You’ll be able to hear me helping my friend with study questions every night.”

Chu Xuyu: “?”

Jiang Tian: “Is something wrong?”

“……”
Chu Xuyu actually couldn’t find a comeback.

“Nothing. Just…”

“Can’t we have a separate chat sometime? Just the two of us?”

Jiang Tian thought about it—after all, the top donor clearly wasn’t short on money and probably wanted more personalized service.

“Can I think it over for two days?”

The man on the other end hesitated, and before he could say anything, Jiang Tian quickly added:
“I’ll return the money first. If I end up accepting, I can charge by the hour.”

He wasn’t a saint. He had lent money for his junior’s medical bills, and his bank balance wasn’t exactly thriving. His sister worked hard to support the household, so naturally, he wanted to earn a little money to help out.

Of course, he wouldn’t charge anything unreasonable. He planned to follow the standard game-order pricing. As for voice content, it would be things like reading textbooks or English vocabulary—nothing more.

Chu Xuyu nearly laughed out loud.
“You’re seriously this innocent?”

Setting down his wine glass, he crossed his arms and teased in a tone like he was playing with a puppy: “Don’t tell me you’re not even an adult yet.”

Jiang Tian blinked.

“I’m really not.”

The mood froze.

There was no response from the other end. Jiang Tian checked the screen—still connected.
“Was there a connection issue?”

Originally feeling slightly tipsy, Chu Xuyu raked a hand through his hair, now utterly sobered.

“You’re seriously underage?”

“Yes.” Jiang Tian answered honestly.

“My birthday’s in winter. I’m still seventeen right now. Is… that a problem?”

Chu Xuyu: “……”

He’s twenty-eight.

And the other person… is a minor high school student.

How did things even get to this point?!

To be fair, it wasn’t entirely the CEO’s fault for misunderstanding. The streamer helped his friend review college entrance exam questions with the skill and clarity of a top-tier university student—it was easy to assume he was already in college.

Regardless, the CEO had standards. He pinched the bridge of his nose, voice suddenly turning cold: “Then let’s talk again when you’re of age.”

Jiang Tian: “Hm?”

Why wait till I’m legal? Wasn’t this just supposed to be some kind of sleep aid voice service?

Confused, Jiang Tian still wanted to return the money.

“Ge, I’m starting senior year in high school. I can’t promise anything ahead of time. I’ll just transfer the money back to you for now, okay?”

Chu Xuyu: “Just treat it as a deposit.”

“Once you’re of age, contact me as soon as you can. Let’s leave it at that.”

Beep. Beep.

The call ended.

Jiang Tian stood frozen in place, completely at a loss.

He suddenly had the unsettling feeling that he’d just sold himself for fifty grand.

“……”
Something’s not right.

Wait… Was it really just a sleep aid call? Or was it actually one of those… not-so-wholesome bedtime services?!