My Idol Turns Out to Be My Boss [Livestream]
+Add to Custom List
Genres:
Novel Info

Summary

... Read More

By day, Yu Sibai is the Design Director of a well-known company—aloof, solitary, a cool and efficient “work machine.” Even a pair of rimless glasses can’t hide that strikingly beautiful face.

By night, after work, he becomes the famous game streamer Respit2, whose popularity easily surpasses official secondary commentators. Every time he goes live, he shoots straight to the top of the charts—yet for years, he has never revealed his face.

Everyone knows that Respit has two great passions: delivering sharp commentary on the daily grind of office workers, and being an unwavering superfan of Execut2.

Execut2—an icon in esports, a four-time champion captain—vanished without a trace after retiring, becoming a legend within the scene.

To this, his devoted fan Yu Sibai firmly declares:
“My husband retired, not died. Thanks, but I’m not remarrying.”

Yu Sibai: “Speaking of which, the company’s new boss who just parachuted in is quite the eye-candy. He’s got about thirty percent of Execut2’s looks—definitely adds some color to my black-and-white corporate life… Though that constant smile? Doesn’t seem like a good person. Not like my husband, whose cold face could defeat the whole world.”

The very next day, after a meeting, the new CEO suddenly asks:
“Director Yu, do you think I should be more serious?”

Yu Sibai adjusts his glasses and puts on a practiced corporate smile.
“President Ji is approachable. Everyone likes you.”

The new CEO lets out a soft, ambiguous chuckle.

During a birthday livestream, Yu Sibai jokingly makes a wish:
“I hope when I wake up tomorrow, I’ll find my missing husband Execut2 at home.”

The next day, after accompanying the new CEO to a banquet, a slightly tipsy Yu Sibai is stopped.

The usually gentle and warm CEO now wears a faint frown.
“Where do you live? I’ll take you home.”

Staring at his boss’s cold expression, Yu Sibai murmurs in a daze:
“…My cyber husband seems to have come back from the dead.”

Ji Wenze pauses for two seconds, then can’t help but laugh at the drunken remark.

Yu Sibai, however, looks dissatisfied.
“Don’t laugh. When you smile, you don’t look like him anymore.”

That night, Respit2—who has never missed a stream—doesn’t go live.
Meanwhile, Execut2, who hasn’t posted in eight years, suddenly updates his account.

Novel Items

More
Gift
Flowers that were sent to the new boss. Xiao Mu was tasked with delivering them, but the office door was locked. Yu Sibai intended to send a new batch.
Item
A digital payment system used in the other world. Extras at the film shoot received payments of fifty yuan via WeChat payment, announced by voice from black boxes.
Vehicle
Yu Sibai's electric car, described as striking and rare in gray-blue color among a sea of black, white, and gray cars. It matches his idol Execut2's hair color. Colleagues said it didn't match his style.
Event
An upcoming tenth anniversary gala for the game Valorant being held domestically in China. An invitation was sent to Xue Jian for Ji Wenze/Kashen to attend.
Event
ICG won a championship with a score of 3:0, mentioned in social media headlines that Ji Wenze scrolled past on his phone.
Music
A battle anthem song from Execut2's first championship that Yu Sibai never gets tired of listening to. He played it through his car's Bluetooth while driving home.
Latest Release
DateGroupRelease
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c20
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c19
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c18
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c17
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c16
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c15
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c14
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c13
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c12
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c11
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c10
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c9

Community Reviews

Rating(0 / 5.0, 26votes)
5 stars
0(0%)
4 stars
0(0%)
3 stars
0(0%)
2 stars
0(0%)
1 stars
0(0%)

Popular reviews

... Read More
I am not okay. I am genuinely not okay. Let me explain. You have this character—Yu Sibo—who is composed, professional, barely shows emotion. And then the topic of Execut2 comes up and he's LITERALLY glowing. "The hand-drawn version made Execut2 even cooler—grayish-blue hair, cold expression, ranking top three in any shonen manga popularity chart." This man is describing his esports idol with the same reverence most people reserve for religious experiences. And then Ji Wenze, this seemingly cold boss, produces the FULL SET. The hand-drawn version. The one Yu Sibo had been wanting. And he just... hands it to him. Like it's nothing. Like he didn't go out of his way to get it. The scene in the car is everything. Yu Sibo holding this box like it's made of glass, peeling back the packaging, and then the description of his reaction—"glowing with admiration, not setting it down for a long while." This man who barely smiles at work is practically radiating joy over a piece of merchandise. And the best part? He tries to hide it. He tries to get back to his cool persona. But you can't hide that kind of genuine happiness. "Yes!" he says when asked if he likes it that much. Just... yes. No filter. No corporate speak. Just pure, unadulterated fan energy. And Ji Wenze watches him do it. Watches him light up. And he's not mocking him. He's... pleased? There's something so tender about this moment that I didn't expect. The boss who grabs people by the collar is also the boss who notices when someone is happy. I'm sitting here emotional over fictional merchandise and I have no regrets.
... Read More
The dialogue in these chapters is absolutely *chef's kiss*. Let me just start with this exchange: "Not trying to look… Is this your favorite esports player now?" Ji Wenze says this with such casual curiosity that it's almost disarming. And Yu Sibo's response? "That has nothing to do with work." The deflection! The panic! The immediate retreat into professional mode! It's perfect. But the real highlight has to be the sticky note conversation. "[I didn't drive today] So no ride—let me go quickly." vs Ji Wenze erasing it and writing "[I drove]" This is communication at its most passive-aggressive and I am HERE for it. The way they communicate without speaking—notes, gestures, the occasional mumbled sentence—creates this intimate bubble between them that feels so different from their workplace dynamic. And then there's the internal monologue. Yu Sibo's thoughts are SO distinct from his spoken words. Out loud: "Dimples bring good fortune." Internally: "...What does this mean? Sharing a ride home? This… felt like middle school, walking home together after class." The contrast between his professional exterior and his chaotic inner monologue is where the humor lives. Gao Xiangri's line about Yu Sibo being "not as clumsy as you think" while crying? That's the kind of dialogue that makes you laugh out loud. And Wu Tianjiao's deadpan "Or you could stay and bring him tea" while everyone knows that's ridiculous? The supporting cast has such distinct voices too. Every character sounds different. The author clearly knows their ensemble.
... Read More
I need to talk about Liang Lu because this kid is genuinely one of the most endearing characters I've ever encountered and I'm already emotionally invested in whatever destiny has in store for him and Yu Sibai. The way he runs into the KTV room like a dog that just saw its owner after a long day — "Xiaobai-ge!" — and then immediately tries to protect Yu Sibai's secret by throwing a jacket over his head like some kind of clumsy ninja? I was dying. He's so obviously, painfully into his boss and he has zero game and it's the best thing ever. But what really got me was the moment when Pupu jokes about "Ka Shen" and Yu Sibai's entire demeanor shifts. One second he's being dramatic and loud, the next his eyes go dim and he's muttering about not being forced to drink anymore. That's not just drunkenness — that's trauma. That's someone who has been used and discarded and is now in a room full of people who might do it again, and his instinct is to retreat. And Liang Lu notices. Of course he notices. While everyone else is laughing and teasing, he's the one leaning in close, asking if Yu Sibai is okay, taking off his glasses for him, offering to drink instead of letting him face punishment alone. This kid's whole personality is "I will protect my person" and he doesn't even seem to realize how obvious it is. Then there's Yu Sibai, who can't even admit he's drunk, who keeps pulling his mask down and then covering it back up, who shouts "I'm quitting" like it's the most natural thing in the world. What is he running from? What is he running toward? And why does Liang Lu seem to be the only one who can see past all of it?
... Read More
I've been thinking about the imagery in these chapters and there are some really interesting symbols at play. The lighthouse. When Xiao Mu looks back and sees Yu Sibo's desk as "a lone lighthouse in the ocean"—that's not accidental. Yu Sibo is the guiding light for his team, the one who stays behind when everyone else goes home. But lighthouses are also lonely. They stand alone in the dark, guiding others while remaining isolated. That's Yu Sibo in a nutshell. And then there's the sofa. Ji Wenze makes him sit on the sofa, and Yu Sibo immediately notices it's hot. But the sofa is also where the real conversation happens. It's domestic. It's intimate. It's where the boss and the employee shed their professional armor and just... talk. Well, partially talk. Through notes. The car is another symbol—Ji Wenze's car is "immaculate, as if staged for an appearance" while Yu Sibo's world (his gaming, his fandom) is chaotic and personal. The car becomes this liminal space between their two worlds. And the merch box—gold-flecked, silver embossed, weighted in his hands. It's not just merchandise. It's a token. A gift that says "I see you. I know what you like. I paid attention." The limited-edition nature of it mirrors Yu Sibo himself—he's limited edition, rare, someone who doesn't show his true self to just anyone. Ji Wenze is the only one who's found the access code. The imagery of light and dark keeps appearing too. The office lights going out, the lone lamp on Yu Sibo's desk, the window light catching the merch. It's all about revelation—what gets shown and what stays hidden.
... Read More
Can we just take a moment to appreciate the elevator scene? Five paragraphs. Five. And it establishes more about Ji Wenze's character than three chapters of backstory ever could. He steps into an empty apartment. Orders takeout. The property manager brings him milk and orange juice because he didn't order drinks at dinner. He eats cross-legged on the carpet while running a cross-border meeting in English. This is a man who has built a life so efficient, so optimized, that even his loneliness has been streamlined into convenience. The pacing here is deliberate and almost cruel. The author gives us this vast, quiet space — "so quiet you could hear a pin drop" — and then fills it with the ping of work messages. Every notification is a reminder that this man is never alone in his thoughts, even when he's physically alone. And then, almost as an afterthought, he opens the stream link. What's brilliant about the structure is how the author controls the temperature. The first half of this batch is cool, detached, almost clinical. Ji Wenze is observing his life the way a CEO observes quarterly reports. But then the stream starts, and the temperature rises. The chat goes wild. Yu Sibo's voice comes through. And suddenly Ji Wenze is laughing. Actually laughing. The scene that follows — him casting the stream to the TV, holding the milk carton like a beer can — that's the pivot point of the entire chapter. The author doesn't rush it. We sit with Ji Wenze on that carpet for what feels like twenty minutes of real time. We watch him shift from detached observer to someone who genuinely, quietly likes this kid. And then the chapter ends on Yu Sibo's side, describing his new boss, and we're left hanging. No cliffhanger. No dramatic reveal. Just two people on opposite sides of a screen, both describing the other without knowing it. That's pacing as storytelling. Not speed. Not urgency. Just the right amount of silence between the beats.
... Read More
The atmosphere in these chapters is INSANE and I need to talk about it. Let me start with the bridge scene because it's basically a movie frame: "The streetlights cast an orange-yellow filter over the world, but even so, it was clear the car wasn't the usual pale gray." That sentence does SO much work. It establishes the lighting, the mood, the fact that Yu Sibai's car is an anomaly in this corporate parking lot world, and it's doing all of that without any exposition. The author doesn't tell us Yu Sibai is different—we see it through the car's color against a sea of black, white, and gray vehicles. That's visual storytelling at its finest. Then the rain hits. "A large raindrop splashed onto the windshield—then more followed, rattling down like scattered marbles." I can literally hear that sound. And later when Ji Wenze gets caught in the downpour: "Two seconds later, when the hair at his forehead was soaked and hanging down, he smiled again." The image of this composed, powerful new president just... standing there getting rained on like a teenager in a music video, and then casually asking to borrow a car—it's cinematic in a way that makes me want to watch this as a drama immediately. The office itself is also doing a lot of worldbuilding. The break room gossip, the noise-canceling headphones that switch to transparency mode, the sunflower that gets delivered to the wrong office. These small details create a lived-in corporate environment that feels real. And the contrast between the fluorescent office lights outside and the orange-yellow streetlight filter—that's the author telling us this is a world where even the natural light has to compete with artificial illumination. Very on-the-nose but also very effective.
See all reviews

Characters

See all characters

Custom lists

Oops…There is nothing here.