Hotel
Li Jiaqi was chatting with fans about funny anecdotes from her life in the private streaming room.
"Jiaqi, is acting boring?"
"Not really, acting is actually pretty fun."
"Jiaqi, you look a bit tired. Do you want to take a break?"
"Thanks for your concern. Honestly, I can't sleep, so I just want to chat with you all."
The fans kept checking on her well-being, cracking light-hearted jokes.
Li Jiaqi, though wanting to turn off the stream and rest quietly, kept up the perfect facade of professionalism.
After all, at her core, she was still an idol, reliant on her fans for support in acting and every other endeavor.
Ring! Ring!
Her private phone suddenly rang.
"Hello!"
"Hello, are you Li Jiaqi?"
Hearing the formal tone, she immediately muted the microphone of the streaming device: "Who's this?"
"I want to tell you something—your mom is dead."
The voice was gentle, polite, even tinged with laughter.
