After Transmigrating as Cannon Fodder, I Became the Darling of the Variety Show - Chapter 2

As soon as this Weibo post was published, the repost count quickly surpassed 10,000. The comment section grew rapidly as well, with one exception—the likes:

+22.

Public interest in a live stream by an 18th-tier “flop” celebrity with a terrible reputation was non-existent. People only flocked there to mock him, curious to see what kind of drama he would stir up next.

An Rao, however, acted as if nothing was wrong. He stopped checking Weibo. Since transmigrating here, he had not had a single hot meal. Constrained by his meager finances, he had to cook for himself.

It was not that he was lazy; it was simply that.

He took the ribs out of the fridge, which were pre-cut from the supermarket. Following an online tutorial, he mixed soy sauce, sugar, and bean paste in a bowl. Once the pan was hot, he tossed the ribs in, poured the sauce over them, covered the lid, and stood by with his arms crossed.

“Glug, glug.” Hearing the boiling sound from the pot, he lifted the lid. A wave of heat erupted, causing him to flinch and pull his hand back.

However, the braised ribs in the pot looked quite decent, full of color and aroma. Having starved all day, he picked up a piece and slowly put it into his mouth while standing by the stove.

The flavor was layered.

First came the lethal saltiness of the soy sauce, followed by the sickening sweetness of the sugar exploding in his mouth. Finally, the unique “fragrant-stinky” smell of the bean paste mixed with a hint of bloodiness in a steady progression.

An Rao silently threw the bloody rib back into the pot, replaced the lid, and continued to wait.

Half an hour later, staring at the blackened ribs, he took a deep breath, closed the lid, and pulled a bag of bread from the refrigerator.

It seemed that when God created An Rao, His hand slipped, and the cooking talent fell straight into the trash can.

At 6:30 PM, An Rao washed his face, tidied his hair in the mirror, and opened the live-streaming app.

Instantly, an army of anti-fans swarmed in like hornets. The bullet comments were dense.

【He is here! An Rao, the man with zero moral bottom line and skin as thick as a city wall, is here!】

【Wow, he actually dares to start a stream? Is he not afraid of getting banned?】

An Rao sat properly in front of the lens, adjusted his phone, and let the corners of his mouth turn up slightly, revealing two small dimples.

“You are all quite early. I am truly flattered that so many people came to see me.”

【Yeah, we are here to see your plastic surgery face.】

【He even got work done to look like our Xixi, but he could not even manage one percent of his beauty. Trying to imitate a beauty and ending up a fool is hilarious.】

An Rao rested his chin on one hand, seriously reading the malicious comments word by word. “Plastic surgery face?” He looked at the screen with a smile, reached out, and opened the beauty filter software, cranking the settings to the maximum.

In an instant, his chin became sharp enough to plow a field, his eyes bulged like copper bells, and his skin was smoothed until his nose was just two small dots. He looked like he had split from the same embryo as the Snake Spirit from Calabash Brothers.

【What is he doing?】

【Turn it off, turn it off! I am going to vomit.】

An Rao cupped his hands under his chin and said with a smile, “I was afraid my ‘plastic surgery face’ would make everyone uncomfortable, so I turned on the filters.”

【Hurry and turn it off! I am going to have nightmares tonight!】

【That is actually terrifying.】

With the “Snake Spirit” face as a comparison, the anti-fans suddenly felt that his natural face was exceptionally pleasing to the eye.

Without filters, his skin was incredibly good; it came with a built-in smoothing effect. His features were exquisite, like fine jade under starlight. Unconsciously, people’s gazes began to wander.

They trailed down to his slightly open collar, where his collarbones were deep enough to hold water.

The anti-fans, who had intended to keep mocking his appearance, suddenly froze. The insults they were about to type rolled around their throats and were swallowed back down.

The stream of foul language immediately dropped by half.

Moreover, it was undeniable: when they had seen An Rao’s “indecent video,” his expression was so seductive that they had actually, shamefully, become aroused.

An Rao glanced at the time at 7:00 PM sharp.

He widened the camera angle, lightly stroked the rice paper in front of him, and spoke in a voice as crisp as a spring in the forest:

“Actually, there is nothing urgent about today’s stream. I am short on money, so I am doing a traditional Chinese painting tutorial. You can just watch for fun. If you like it, feel free to tip; if not, there is the exit button in the top right.”

【If you are broke, go find your ‘gege.’ Just lick a ‘Big Chili’ and you will have money, right?】

【Is he that pathetic? Played out by his sugar daddies and left without a cent?】

An Rao ignored them. Does a lion stop because a dog barks?

He picked up a brush, thought for a moment, and smiled. “Today, I will teach everyone how to paint a calico dog.”

With that, he lifted the brush, dipped it in a bit of yellow-ochre, touched the tip with burnt sienna, and landed it steadily on the paper. His strokes were smooth and vivid. Before long, a fluffy little calico dog appeared on the screen.

Watching his hand grip the brush, the anti-fans suddenly began to fantasize about that hand doing other things. Their breath hitched, and they could not help but swallow.

He washed the brush, switched to a larger one dipped in indigo and ink, and transitioned between the tip and side of the brush naturally and fluently. With just a few strokes, a calico dog looking up at a lush bamboo forest came to life on the paper.

The anti-fans fell silent.

【Uh, actually, it is not bad.】

【’Ball-Ball’ sent a small rocket gift.】

【Fine, I apologize for saying you were insulting national treasures. Do not cause trouble in the future. I am out.】

【Wow! This is really impressive. This level of proficiency is terrifying!】

An Rao chuckled softly and wrote four large characters on the side of the rice paper:

“Watch your words and actions.”

Signature: An Rao.

【Could he have practiced day and night just to spite us and slap our faces?】

【As an art student, I would say that is a fantasy. You cannot rush this; it requires an immense amount of practice.】

【Keep it up. Just do not cause drama and do not waste your skills and beauty.】

【Crap, I suddenly want to become a fan. Can someone slap me awake? If not, I am diving in.】

【Me too. He really paints well, and he seems very polite. Not as arrogant as the rumors say.】

Seeing more and more people sending small gifts and his follower count rising from zero to over 10,000, An Rao sat up straight and gave the camera a faint smile:

“That is all for today. Everyone, get some rest early. If you need anything, you can direct message me. I will continue to release more painting tutorials. Goodnight, and remember not to set the air conditioner too low, babies.”

The audience in front of their screens collectively caught their breath.

Did this man just call them “babies”? It felt very strange.

They stared blankly at the screen after the stream ended. For a long time, all they could think about was that word “babies” floating from those crimson lips.

Being called “baby” so sincerely by the person they hated most made their hearts itch.

The audience suddenly snapped back to reality, grabbed their phones, and typed “An Rao” into their browsers.

The scandal was everywhere, and he was notoriously arrogant, often fighting with anti-fans. But he called them “babies”!

Quietly, they crept over to Weibo. Quietly, they found An Rao’s profile. And quietly, they clicked “Follow.”

Lying in bed, their hearts thumping, their minds filled with that soft, pretty “babies,” the viewers held their phones, staying on An Rao’s homepage, eyes closed with a look of pure satisfaction.

An Rao checked Weibo. He had gained over 10,000 followers. Checking the back-end of several video platforms, his earnings were 6,000 yuan.

Enough for a computer.

After selecting a brand and model online, An Rao withdrew the funds, planning to visit the computer mall the next day.

But sleeping was a major issue. He had searched the entire house and only found one bed on the second floor, the one Chu Guannan had slept in.

An Rao folded the quilt into a strip and placed it where Chu Guannan used to sleep, while he lay on the other side. He closed his eyes, looking incredibly peaceful.

He thought that since the original owner had no scheduled appearances, he could sleep until he woke up naturally. But before 6:00 AM, his phone began to ring incessantly, like a death knell.

Dazed, he fumbled for his phone. The caller ID showed Zhang Ze’an, that old fox.

He declined the call. He did not want to listen to that man’s hollow words.

But Zhang Ze’an was determined. You will not answer? You turned off your phone? He took a taxi straight to An Rao’s doorstep and began pounding on the door.

“An Rao! You have the guts to hang up, so you had better have the guts to open the door!”

Hearing Zhang Ze’an’s rasping voice sounding like a funeral dirge, An Rao really wanted to leave him there. But thinking it would disturb the neighbors, he had no choice but to get out of bed.

When he opened the door, Zhang Ze’an immediately launched into a tirade: “Are you dead? Did your phone explode? Do I have to come in person?”

He stopped mid-sentence.

An Rao, having just rolled out of bed, was still wearing loose pajamas. His collar was open, revealing a large expanse of snow-white skin. His messy hair made his small face look even tinier. His eyes were slightly tired, and his red lips were parted slightly.

Did this kid always look like this? Why does he look so seductive?

Zhang Ze’an smacked his lips and subtly blocked his own uncalled-for arousal, shifting his gaze away to avoid An Rao’s cold stare.

“Look at Weibo. Now.”

An Rao rubbed his sore neck and reached out to close the door.

“Look at Weibo quickly!” Zhang Ze’an grew anxious, tapping frantically on his screen before shoving it in front of An Rao’s eyes.

Only one night had passed, and he was on the trending searches again. With this terrifying level of heat, it would be a shame if he did not become a top superstar in the future.

An Rao glanced at it.

It turned out someone had tagged him.

It was an artist named Pei Qingsong. Strictly speaking, he was the top master of traditional Chinese painting in the country. Even those who did not study art were familiar with the name; he was a household name.

After tagging him, Pei Qingsong wrote: “I have seen your work. It is both spiritual and beautiful. I would like to ask if you are willing to continue your studies under my guidance?”

Zhang Ze’an babbled on the side: “Let us get this straight, there is no room for discussion. If you can get the title of Pei Qingsong’s ‘closed-door disciple,’ believe it or not, you can use this chance to turn your life around. This kind of artistic theme is very popular right now; I can even use it to get you endorsements for art products.”

If the rotten mud is perfectly fine at the base of the wall, why insist on propping it up?

An Rao reached out to close the door again. “I am not going.”

Zhang Ze’an quickly shoved his hand against the doorframe, his eyes nearly popping out:

“Who do you think you are talking to? Do not be ungrateful. Do you really think you can look down on everyone just because you can paint a few ‘scraps’? The company does not support useless people. Pack your things and follow me to visit Master Pei immediately.”

An Rao’s head throbbed from the noise. He pressed the call button by the door.

A moment later, hurried footsteps sounded in the hallway. A group of black-clad security guards arrived and walked straight over.

Zhang Ze’an stared with bulging eyes, his mouth spewing filth as the guards dragged him away.

“I am telling you, if you miss this, there will not be a next time! Think carefully about it!”

The door closed, and the world finally fell silent.

An Rao was wide awake now. He got up to wash, had some bread and milk from the fridge, and then opened Weibo to find the post where Pei Qingsong had tagged him.

The comment section beneath it was a disaster zone.

【Master Pei, you must keep your eyes open! There are tons of people who can paint. You do not know how bad An Rao’s reputation is. He is a mud pit; whoever steps in gets unlucky.】

【Master Pei, stay calm! Master Pei, do not do it! Master Pei, you will regret this!】

【Master Pei is still vigorous in his old age. You must have watched this slut’s spicy videos, huh? You moved so fast, hee hee.】

【Disgusting. Reported. If the person above was not raised right, go die. Master Pei, seriously, do not get involved with this person, or you will ruin your reputation late in life.】

An Rao scrolled through the comments, his low opinion of the internet mob’s quality being reaffirmed once again.

Although being taken in as a disciple by a world-renowned master like Pei Qingsong was a dream for many, it was not An Rao’s dream.

His mother was the Secretary-General of the National Artists Association, but she was a second wife when she married his father. His father’s deceased first wife had left behind a son and a daughter, and everyone, including his siblings, believed his mother had married for money.

His mother had lived cautiously at home, always watching the expressions of those three.

To keep his siblings from worrying, she had sent An Rao away to study art, hiding his brilliance and avoiding anything related to finance.

It was not until An Rao left home to study elsewhere and saw more of the world that he finally understood: If you care too much about others’ opinions, you lose yourself.

So he wanted to go further. He wanted freedom; he wanted to wander with the wind.

Therefore, regarding Pei Qingsong’s offer, he could only open Weibo and tag him back:

【Thank you for your kindness, Master Pei. I am truly flattered to be held in such high regard by you. However, the world is vast, and I want to go see it.】

Nowadays, it is hard for pure arts majors to succeed without early hype. Having a high-status mentor to pave the way would make the journey much easier.

But “a teacher for a day is a father for a lifetime.” You would have to treat your mentor like your own father, staying by his side. Any misstep would lead to the reputation of being “ungrateful.” It was too restrictive.

One rejection sent the internet into a total frenzy.

【He gained a few followers and forgot who he is. He actually dares to reject Master Pei’s invitation.】

【Selling the ‘aloof’ persona again? He will probably kneel and call him ‘Daddy’ in private.】

But who was Pei Qingsong? He certainly would not lower himself to the level of ignorant netizens. He was broad-minded and only replied to An Rao:

【A young man should have ambitions for distant lands. Good. If there is a chance in the future, let us refine our painting skills together.】

An Rao replied with a “Thank you,” closed Weibo, put on a baseball cap, and headed to the computer mall with his 6,000 yuan.

The shops in the mall were lined up in rows. He surveyed each one and finally chose the one that looked the neatest.

The salesman, seeing a potential customer, began an endless pitch about performance and configurations. As he spoke, he suddenly looked at An Rao curiously:

“I feel like you look a bit familiar, sir.”

An Rao pulled his cap lower. “Keep talking about the computer.”

“Then tell me your requirements first. Gaming? Video editing? Or something else?”

“AI special effects.”

The young man nodded. “Then you need a computer with a very good GPU. But if your budget is only 6,000, it might really not be enough.”

An Rao had already considered this, but he was not worried. He had a backup plan:

“A desktop is fine. I can assemble and configure it myself.”

Compared to laptops, desktop computers offered much better value. A 4,000-yuan desktop could outperform a 6,000-yuan laptop, and the color display would be more accurate.

Once the parts were chosen, the salesman enthusiastically asked if he wanted home delivery.

But delivery would be equivalent to announcing to the world that I am going to use a computer to cause trouble. An Rao shook his head, picked up the monitor and the tower, and prepared to carry them back himself.

The salesman chased after him again, his eyes constantly glancing at An Rao’s face. He smiled and said, “It looks inconvenient for you. Let me help you take it back.”

An Rao gave the same answer: “Thank you, no need.”

He lugged the computer home. After spending half a day assembling it, the next step was learning AI face-swapping technology.

This aspect was easy to learn, but current technology could only swap faces, not fully restore the original context. Thus, he had to find another way to prove the indecent video was a deepfake.

An Rao filmed a video of himself, capturing various facial postures and expressions, considering lighting and angles, and then collected the data.

Afterward, he pulled up the indecent video and paused it frame by frame to observe the expressions. He discovered that the person in the video kept their eyes open the entire time without blinking once; the eyeballs did not even seem to move.

Case closed.

He opened Weibo and posted a video with the caption: “Dry eyes? Why not try some blinking exercises?”