The visit from her aunt and cousin brought back some unpleasant memories for Yun Zhen.

She remembered how, just after graduating from college, she had been troubled about finding a job. Not wanting to work in a chemical company related to her major, she ventured to Shen City on her own, eventually landing a job as a planner at an advertising company.

At the time, she felt incredibly lost, unsure whether her decision was right or wrong. She had simply gone with the flow, hoping to find her opportunity in the big city.

However, the job turned out to be exhausting. Revising plans repeatedly was the norm, the boss had a bad temper, and the office often echoed with harsh scoldings. Department heads liked to treat young employees as errand runners, and if you didn’t meet their expectations, they labeled you as arrogant and unable to endure hardship.

The salary was only 9,000 yuan—a decent amount for a second- or third-tier city and manageable for someone without a mortgage or car loan. But in Shen City, a mega-city with a high cost of living, half of her salary went to rent and utilities alone, not to mention commuting, food, and daily necessities.

There was an unspoken rule in the office: you had to treat everyone to afternoon tea in rotation, and every couple of months, there was a mandatory team dinner to attend. All of this required money. Every day, Yun Zhen had to carefully budget and plan her expenses, facing not only financial but also mental pressure.

Whenever an emergency or illness occurred, she would inevitably overspend her salary and have to dip into her savings—the money she had accumulated from childhood holiday gifts and the monthly allowance her parents gave her.

After nearly four years of hard work, she had saved nothing.

Sometimes, she even had to pay out of pocket to go to work, which she found utterly ridiculous.

As the saying goes: “You earn in Shen City, you spend in Shen City; don’t expect to take a penny home.”

She became a “moonlight clan” member—someone who spent all their income each month—out of necessity. Her entry into the world of online fiction writing was a coincidence, driven by her lack of money.

Just as she realized her day job offered no prospects for promotion or a brighter future, her writing income stabilized at around 6,000 to 7,000 yuan per month.

She developed an unparalleled passion for storytelling, finding solace in this part-time work amid all her hardships and frustrations.

So she quit her job, decisively returning to her hometown and deciding to become a full-time web novel writer.

Her hometown, Ya City, was a typical third-tier city. Twenty years ago, her parents had bought two adjacent residential buildings in the city center. Ten years ago, when they were financially comfortable, they tore down the single-story building and rebuilt it into two three-story small buildings, each with a single floor area of 150 square meters.

One of these buildings was their family home, and the other was her parents’ dowry for Yun Zhen.

The furniture and decorations had been gradually added over the years, all of high quality and well-maintained, so even now, the house looked brand new.

Yun Zhen’s parents were well-liked by the neighbors, and their home often had guests dropping by.

Wanting an absolutely quiet environment for writing, Yun Zhen cleaned up her dowry house after returning home. She converted the secondary bedroom next to the master bedroom on the second floor into a study, bought new bookshelves, a desk, and a computer, and then moved into the small building to focus on her writing. She only joined her parents for meals and holidays.

Yun Zhen’s parents had no objections. The elderly couple, still very much in love, were even happier without a third wheel around. Whether they were sharing intimate conversations or chatting with friends over sunflower seeds, they didn’t have to worry about being interrupted.

Yun Zhen knew her parents were concerned about her career, but they never voiced any opposition. Instead, they supported her in their own quiet way.

In the past, she had no dreams. She studied hard just to be the top student and chose her college based solely on rankings, without considering what she really wanted or what suited her.

But once she started writing, her dreams took shape.

She wanted to write stories that readers would love, make a name for herself in the world of fiction, and prove that her choice was the right one!

People strive for respect, and monks strive for incense. She didn’t want to be looked down upon by her aunt’s family; she wanted to make her parents proud!

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During lunch, Yun Zhen placed three bottles of cola and Sprite, each missing its cap, on the table, then wordlessly began shoveling food into her mouth.

Her father, who had just come home and already knew about the morning’s events, noticed her mood and teased her with a smile, “Why are the bottle caps missing? You didn’t happen to redeem them for ‘one more bottle,’ did you?”

Yun Zhen was a bit speechless. “There’s no ‘one more bottle’ anymore. I needed the caps for something else.”

Her mother gave her a look, slightly reproachful but with no real anger. She speculated, “Let me guess, you used them as writing material again? Always doing these wasteful things.”

Though she said this, there was no real criticism in her tone.

Since Yun Zhen started writing, the house had seen all sorts of strange things.

When she was writing historical fiction, her material consisted of traditional clothing, ancient hair ornaments, embroidered shoes, and so on. She even bought her mother’s first qipao and her father’s first Tang suit during that period, using her royalties as gifts for them.

Her last book was about wilderness survival, so she bought compressed biscuits and a multi-functional entrenching tool. The former became a snack for her father and the neighbors, while the latter became a helpful tool for her mother in her gardening.

By now, her parents were used to all sorts of bizarre items showing up in the house.

As long as it wasn’t anything too outrageous, they were fine with it.

Yun Zhen couldn’t explain in detail, so she let her mother guess. Remembering that the little people would need lunch too, she took out a small soy sauce dish and put a little rice and some of each dish into it.

Her father found it odd and asked, “Feeding a stray cat? Isn’t that too little? Why not wait until we’re done eating? There should be enough left over for a bowl of ‘mixed leftovers.’”

Yun Zhen didn’t like lying to her parents, so she answered vaguely, “Just feeding it casually; giving too much might be wasteful.”

Her mother eyed her suspiciously. “You’re not secretly raising a pet again, are you? Did you forget those painful lessons?”

When Yun Zhen was in elementary school, she and a neighborhood boy bought a duckling at the school gate. Fearing her parents would scold her, she secretly raised it under her bed. Her parents found out but didn’t say anything.

However, her duckling died of starvation, while the neighbor boy’s duckling grew up and even laid a bunch of eggs, which he proudly invited her to see.

In middle school, inspired by classical poetry, Yun Zhen found the idea of fish playing among lotus leaves very poetic. She excitedly bought a ceramic fish tank, some goldfish, and lotus seeds.

But within two months, all the goldfish had died, and though the lotus seeds sprouted and grew leaves, they withered before they could bloom due to lack of sunlight.

In high school, she became enchanted with the idea of chrysanthemums by the eastern fence and leisurely seeing the southern mountains. She bought several pots of colorful chrysanthemums online. After blooming for half a year, they gradually withered, and to this day, she still doesn’t know why.

The large bag of fertilizer she bought at that time was later used by her mother for growing bougainvillea. When Yun Zhen went to check on them, the bougainvillea were thriving—lush, vibrant, and blooming in abundance.

This long and painful history of failed plant and pet care was something Yun Zhen didn’t like to revisit.

Her father had once loudly mocked her, dubbing her the “Innate Pet Slayer Physique.”

Since then, Yun Zhen had never raised any pets or planted a single seed. When she wanted to see something fluffy, she’d visit a pet store or a cat café, but she was determined not to keep any living creatures herself.

Remembering this, Yun Zhen felt a bit guilty but still firmly denied, “I’m not raising pets; I’m just offering humanitarian aid.”

Surely, the little people were strong enough not to be killed by her care.

These were the same foods she, a full-sized human, was eating, and she was perfectly healthy. Why wouldn’t they be?