Honey Badger's Streaming Life C107

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Chapter 107: Comedy? We’re Professionals

Lao She once wrote: "The cicadas’ song never reaches the Greater Khingan Mountains; here, cool clouds and clear winds chase away even the fiercest summer heat."  

This was his way of saying that in the Greater Khingan region, no matter how sweltering the season might be elsewhere, you wouldn’t feel the oppressive heat common to southern China. And as for the incessant drone of cicadas outside your window? Forget about it—you wouldn’t hear them here.

But right now, deep within this vast expanse of primeval forest, a certain livestreamer wasn’t feeling any of that refreshing coolness. Instead, embarrassment burned through him like wildfire, leaving him flushed and drenched in sweat. The rustling pines carried not a soothing breeze but an awkward tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Gu Lang’s shirt hung open, revealing two tiny puncture marks on his arm where the Siberian rat snake had bitten him. If anything, the mosquito bite swelling on his face looked worse than the snake wound. Wang Ping, standing nearby, figured that if Gu Lang hadn’t checked sooner, those little scratches might’ve healed completely by now, leaving no trace of where he’d been bitten at all.

“You useless piece of crap, Gu Lang! What the hell is wrong with you?! You damn idiot... #@&$@#…” 

Muttering curses under his breath, a certain honey badger pawed furiously at its face and head, glaring daggers at Gu Lang. Earlier, when Gu Lang had burst into tears, snot and tears smeared across the honey badger's fur. At the time, Wang Ping thought the guy was dying and didn’t hold it against him. But now? He wanted nothing more than to beat some sense into him.

“You cried your eyes out, wiped your nose all over me—weren’t you supposed to die? Go ahead, drop dead already so we can see how dramatic you really are!”

A stray leaf spiraled lazily past Gu Lang’s face, brushing against his expressionless features.

Of course, surviving was a good thing. So why did he feel absolutely zero relief?

Even someone as dense as Gu Lang should’ve realized by now: that snake wasn’t venomous. Not only was it harmless, but its physical attack was laughably weak.

So how exactly was he going to explain himself to the audience?

For what felt like ages, Gu Lang sat motionless beneath the tree, refusing to speak or pull out his tablet to check the live chat. It wasn’t because he dreaded their comments—it was because he hadn’t come up with a plausible excuse yet. Until then, Gu Lang planned to avoid facing the music altogether.

What Gu Lang probably didn’t realize was that while he remained oblivious, someone in the live stream chat had already identified the snake. By now, the comment section had erupted into pure chaos—a sea of laughter and memes.

“HAHAHA, I can’t breathe! My stomach hurts from laughing too hard!”
  
“My mom asked why I’m watching the stream on my knees. Because I’m laughing so hard I can’t stand up, duh!”  

“I don’t know if the stream is professional, but damn, the comedy is top-notch.”  

“OMG, I need a break… This is too much.”  

“Waaaah~ Boss, I think I’m dying…”  

“POOR little black snake! It survived being eaten by Boss, only to almost die from making us laugh!”  

“That’s it—I’m officially Gu Lang’s lifelong fan just for this level of hilarity.”  

“Hell yeah! Anyone who says the streamer isn’t professional is officially my enemy!”  

“+1 Hardcore Fan”  

“+006 Hardcore Fan”  

“Alright, folks, let’s rally while the streamer collects himself. Hit that follow button, send some love his way!”  

“Ding dong!” 

“OneBigCow gifted 6 planes…”  

“NetLitGen3 gifted Super Rocket x…”  

“WildWindFaraway gifted Super Rocket x…”  

“IllegalAccount gifted Super Rocket x9…”  

“IllegalAccount: Wow, bro! All my laughs for the year just got spent on you today…”

Hearing the donation notifications chime from his chest-mounted tablet, Gu Lang’s eyes flickered, and he glanced down hesitantly.

Maybe he could claim they were putting on a performance with Boss? Yeah… somehow, that excuse sounded pretty weak…

Just as he was mulling it over, the sound of footsteps crunching through fallen leaves interrupted his thoughts. Looking up, Gu Lang saw the honey badger walking away, shaking its paw vigorously as though trying to rid itself of something disgusting. Come to think of it, hadn’t the honey badger used that same paw to wipe its face earlier?

Wang Ping was utterly revolted.

While scrubbing, he’d discovered a glob of sticky mucus stuck to the top of his head—and there was no doubt whose fault that was. 

Earlier, Wang Ping had heard the faint murmur of water flowing somewhere southeast of their location. Now, desperate to wash off the grime (and maybe punch someone later), he hurried toward the source.

“Boss, where are you going?” Gu Lang called out hoarsely, his voice raspy from crying.

Wang Ping glanced back, hesitated, and finally waved for Gu Lang to follow. After all, this idiot had been whining about finding water ever since the incident. Sure, Wang Ping technically started the whole mess, but still—better to let the guy recover first before dealing with him properly.

Getting to his feet, Gu Lang stretched his stiff limbs. Sitting on the ground for so long had left his legs tingling with numbness.

With backpack slung over one shoulder, man and honey badger trudged silently along the path. Following the slope upward through the trees for another couple hundred meters, they reached a spot where sunlight glinted off rippling water between the gaps in the foliage.

Pushing aside the underbrush, they stepped into view of a narrow stream winding its way out of the deeper woods, curving around the hillside before disappearing into the forest beyond. The gentle gradient meant the flow was slow and quiet, barely audible.

Both stood at the edge, peering down. Leaves and twigs littered the bottom, and the sunlight cast a yellowish glow onto the surface, making it look less than pristine. Still, the clarity of the water proved it was fresh, not stagnant.

Though Wang Ping couldn’t identify snakes, recognizing clean water sources was second nature to him. Picking his way carefully along the soft banks, the honey badger found a shallow spot, waded in, and began washing the white fur atop his head.

Gu Lang stared blankly.

Wasn’t that upstream where the honey badger was bathing?

After a moment’s thought, Gu Lang set down his pack and rummaged through it. A minute later, he held up a small plastic box and shouted, “Boss, I’ve got soap!”

The honey badger froze mid-scrub, turning around with a baffled expression.

So… random junk like soap made the cut, but essential survival gear didn’t?

“Here,” Gu Lang said, placing the box on the bank. “If you want it, come get it yourself.”

Then, ignoring the stream for now, he turned back to his bag and started digging again. Under Wang Ping’s watchful eye, he pulled out a portable pot and began scooping water. Next came the camping stove, which he proceeded to set up on the shore.

“Holy sht, Gu Lang, are you trying to get us killed?!”

Wang Ping scrambled out of the water and stormed onto the bank, smacking the stove flat before Gu Lang could even light it.

“This is the Greater Khingan Mountains! Are you insane? Do you have any idea what starting a fire here would do?!” The honey badger’s tail bristled with rage.

“Boss, relax! I’m boiling water. Look at this stuff—it’s filthy. We can’t drink it unless it’s boiled,” Gu Lang retorted, seemingly oblivious to the danger. In fact, he even reached out to pat the tuft of damp fur sticking straight up on Wang Ping’s head.

In Shanghai, Douyu HQ, Chen Bai—who’d been panicking moments ago over Gu Lang getting bitten by a snake—had just calmed down when he saw Gu Lang preparing to boil water.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME, GU LANG?!”

Chen Bai’s forehead throbbed with veins threatening to explode. He nearly fell off his chair scrambling for his phone, terrified he’d miss seeing smoke rising on-screen.

Note:
Lao She (1899–1966) was one of China’s most celebrated modern writers and dramatists, renowned for his vivid portrayals of everyday life and sharp social commentary. His works often blend humor, tragedy, and critique, offering timeless insights into human nature and society.

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