Boss Lu: A reborn life is destined to be without regrets!
Chapter 480 - 346. Wheat and the Distance_2

Chapter 480: 346. Wheat and the Distance_2

It must be admitted: appearance and voice play a significant role in shaping media narratives.

Ji Shu was already a beautiful girl, and her lazy, sultry demeanor during livestreams—a stark contrast to her overwhelmingly positive words—could only be described as fascinating.

Even without considering the background of those who joined her connections, Ji Shu’s own story alone is enough to resonate with countless ordinary people.

Many curious viewers clicked on other snippets of Ji Shu’s livestreams.

After watching, even if reluctantly or with a bit of shame, they had to admit:

Ji Shu’s livestream room has a certain magic.

Through these livestream clips, both long and short, audiences got to see the wheat fields of ordinary people, alongside their distant hopes.

In this era of frustration, disappointment, and uncertainty, anyone still trying to live with resilience could easily be moved by Ji Shu’s streams.

She built fortresses herself within the soil beneath her feet, drawing strength from the realities of life to move forward.

That’s what people witnessed in Ji Shu’s livestream room.

What’s happening in her livestream room?

The answer is: connections as ordinary as can be.

The process is entirely mundane.

A viewer initiates a request to connect, Ji Shu accepts, and they have real-time voice chats.

The only difference from most talent-oriented livestreams? She doesn’t really possess any special talents.

The people who connect are also completely ordinary.

They resemble your everyday relatives and friends—awkward in speech, lacking punchlines—some even speaking with thick accents as they raise questions and seek advice.

So what do they ask in the livestream room?

Frankly, it’s hard to summarize everything in just one sentence.

But when examining the questions posed to Ji Shu, you can sense a certain similarity.

All of the questions are exceedingly trivial, practical, and specific.

——Host, how can I find part-time work and support myself when my family’s financial situation isn’t great?

"My family isn’t well-off; what’s the fastest way for me to find a job? I really want to be like you—able to support myself during college."

——Host, how do you decorate a new house when working with a tight budget?

"I rarely stay home. I bought a house in my hometown but work elsewhere in the south. I want to do simple renovations so my parents can live there, but I don’t want to waste money needlessly."

——Host, should I help out at a relative’s shop?

"My cousin and his wife opened a small shop far away and invited me to help. Should I go?"

——Host, how can I fix my inability to speak properly?

"I’m interning as a vocational college student. How can I improve my communication skills?"

...

Ji Shu’s responses are exceedingly pragmatic.

For the vocational student struggling to communicate, she offered three suggestions.

"I learned these from elder colleagues at the company: first, don’t speak too fast; second, don’t say anything unless asked; third, avoid revealing nervousness by saying ’sorry.’"

When asked how to work part-time, she quickly inquired about the person’s city.

"Go onto Amap and search for Golden Stone Coffee. They’re currently hiring winter break workers nearby. Give it a shot—it’s safe and trustworthy; my boss owns the place!"

When discussing weight loss, she shared her method of shedding over ten pounds.

"Eat three meals regularly, and be mindful of mornings and nights."

She added that when she gets hungry late at night, she can’t resist eating strawberries; however, after one or two weeks, she stops.

Because strawberries are too expensive.

Ji Shu’s livestream room often leaves one with a sense of groundedness.

A form of groundedness in the questions.

In the comment sections for the clips, someone remarked that they saw a group of people they usually don’t see online.

They weren’t airing grievances or sharing opinions—just mundane, specific troubles that immediately pull people into the context of real-life concerns.

A form of groundedness in the responses.

Through Ji Shu’s feedback, audiences realize that they come to this livestream room precisely for such responses.

No pretentious rhetoric, no profound insights.

Just heartfelt, specific answers within her capabilities.

When watching these livestream clips, it’s often surprising how open each connected participant is.

Take, for example, the most widely shared story in her livestream room.

A boy called into Ji Shu’s connected feed, sobbing slightly and stumbling through his words while recounting his experiences.

He dropped out of middle school, his mother fled home from domestic violence when he was 13, and when he was 16, he badly injured his abusive father and ended up in juvenile detention.

Now, standing on the 28th floor, he said his life was ruined.

"This is my last night."

The reason he made this call was simple.

"I’ve been watching your livestream for days. I really have no one else to talk to, so I wanted to talk to you."

At the time, Ji Shu’s expression remained minimal, and her tone stayed calm.

She didn’t immediately urge him to think positively or lecture him on the preciousness of life.

She simply asked.

"Well, then just talk to me for a bit longer, okay?"

"Can you tell me, which city do you live in?"

"What a coincidence—you’re also in Jiang City."

"Even if you’ve made your decision and plan to leave tomorrow, tonight at least eat a proper meal, yes?"

"Let me treat you—I know a place that makes the best zhajiang noodles."

"Rest assured, I won’t try comforting you. I’ll just take you to find a noodle shop and treat you to a bowl of noodles. I won’t do anything else, no pressure, okay? Zhajiang noodles are so delicious."

"When people eat to their fill, their feelings of sadness can be suppressed."

"And before anything else, it starts with that bowl of noodles, alright?"

Honestly, Ji Shu’s methods, experiences, and advice weren’t particularly rare.

But within that particular moment and context, there was nothing more effective.

"Eat a bowl of delicious zhajiang noodles."

One detail worth noting is that when Ji Shu offered to take him for noodles, his immediate response was:

"Just don’t laugh at me."

Ji Shu instinctively responded: "Who would laugh at you?"

Throughout this young man’s life, most moments he had experienced involved judgment, mockery, and neglect.

But this time was different. He was simply seen, respected, and understood.

This isn’t just what one young man desires.

This is what every ordinary person craves.

As Golden Stone Media continued broadcasting, the comments under Ji Shu’s clips grew exponentially.

"I dropped out of vocational school at 16. Is going back at 18 too late?"

"I’ve been unemployed since August and have been lying flat ever since. Totally lost about my future—what should I do?"

"I’m a 24-year-old nurse working back-to-back 16-hour night shifts. My hair’s falling out, I want to quit but am too afraid, and I feel like life is meaningless..."

...

Even though Ji Shu didn’t have time to respond to every single comment, the messages continued flooding in by the minute.

In this era, people need an outlet.

An outlet for emotions, an outlet for frustrations, an outlet for being seen.

Ji Shu provides one such outlet, but she’s not the only outlet.

The numbers rising in popularity reflect an undeniable urgency.

Underneath it all, Ji Shu often uses sharp, blunt language, making conversations feel piercingly direct.

At first glance, it might seem like buckets of cold water extinguishing unrealistic dreams.

But upon deeper thought, every visitor to her livestream room isn’t expecting someone to indulge their fantasies.

They’ve long realized that what they can grasp in their hands is limited.

They’ve persuaded themselves, in countless moments of difficulty, to recognize the reality, to reel in their delusions.

To remember that distant springs cannot quench nearby fires.

The moment the connection is accepted, the moment of inner reckoning, the moment they open up to the female host—they already know.

They’re not here to dream.

Life is so tough, so uncontrollable; as one’s years pass, worries multiply.

In this advanced digital age, everyone eventually recognizes that even if they venture far away, their lives won’t drastically change.

But still, they continue hoping with kindness, struggling on.

Stooping down to plant their wheat, eating a bowl of zhajiang noodles, and waiting once again for the warm winters of the south.