The next day—perhaps the day to sound the horn for the counterattack—Jiang Qiuqiu's editor, Meimei, sent a message to check on her.
"Don't be nervous—"
"I'm not nervous."
"Okay, well, even though he's a major streamer, his fanbase is quite complex. He's not purely a food vlogger. And while your follower count isn't higher than his yet—"
But her fan loyalty was beyond imagination.
"Sister Mingmei, don't worry. It's no big deal. We're just going to have a little culinary showdown, not get into a physical brawl. You need to have faith in me."
"Alright, I have faith in you." Meimei sighed. "I guess I'm the one who can't stay calm. You and Little President Qian are both so composed."
"Haha, I'm confident in my cooking, and Little President Qian is confident in his taste. So, Sister Mingmei, you can rest easy. We won't lose."
Her confidence was contagious, but—
"Did something happen yesterday? You seem a little happy."
"Nothing much. I just achieved a small milestone."
