Normally, I could wolf down two bowls of beef rice—it’s that delicious—but today, I wasn’t in the mood. I barely managed two half-hearted bites before pushing the bowl away.

Baiyu hadn’t come down from her room since dinner. Usually, even if she didn’t eat with me, she’d bring her plate to the kitchen like a good kid. Today, she was really mad at me.

Thinking back, I’m such a lousy father for upsetting her over something so small. Why not just change Elisa’s character to what Baiyu approves of? Lin Zheng, Elisa’s would-be boyfriend, might get mad, but I don’t care. As the author, shouldn’t I play God and control my characters’ fates?

After washing the dishes, I returned to my room, opened my laptop, and got to work. Since Volume 6 of "The Zero Hour" got axed, I needed to rethink the main and side plots.

I opened the rejected draft, skimming through it quickly. Since I wrote it myself, I remembered the gist. Though scrapped, many parts could be reused—the main plot wasn’t too bad.

I spent over an hour reviewing the draft, another half-hour outlining the new version. Then I typed the first line of Volume 6’s rewrite:

"No one forgot that night, just as Lin Zheng had said to Elisa..."

The tap-tap-tapping of keys filled the room, but the document held only a pitiful few lines. I wrote, revised, deleted—nothing felt right.

I wanted to tweak Elisa’s character, but when you’re fully immersed in writing, you realize the story has its own momentum. Even though I typed every word, the plot unfolded on its own track. Forcing changes would just ruin the story’s integrity.

Plus, after Miss Jinmu’s harsh criticism, I felt lost. Staring at the screen, I was clueless how to proceed—even with an outline.

Maybe I’m just thin-skinned, unable to take criticism. What a pathetic guy!

After two hours, I’d barely written 2,000 words. I slumped back in my chair, pulling at my hair. "Ugh, I can’t write anything!"

Glancing at the clock, I realized it was already 9 PM. I decided to take a rare break, opened Doumao Live, and searched for Baiyu’s stream.

I thought she wouldn’t stream today, but she was still live—though about to end it when I clicked in.

On stream, Baiyu wasn’t pouting like at dinner; she was smiling brightly. She really enjoyed interacting with her fans.

But I noticed she wore casual home clothes, not her Elisa cosplay outfit. Even with touch-up makeup, her eyes were red-rimmed.

She waved at the camera. "That’s it for today! Hope to see you next time. BYE-BYE~♪"

"Good job, little streamer~"

"See you tomorrow~"

The chat flooded with "Good job!" messages.

Baiyu took off her headset, and the screen went dark with a click—she’d ended the stream.

I heard a door open next door, followed by the slap-slap of slippers. Baiyu was probably heading to the bathroom.

But soon, footsteps paced back and forth in the hallway. Baiyu seemed to be on the phone, her voice too low to make out.

Who was she calling this late? A boyfriend?

Curious—and a bit annoyed—I slipped on my slippers and opened my door.

Baiyu stood outside her room, phone to her ear. "...It’s really unfair, right?"

She had her back to me, so she didn’t notice.

"No way! He’s such an idiot, a total moron. So dumb, just believes whatever people say. He should just die!"

Well, I didn’t know who she was talking to, but "idiot" and "moron" were clearly aimed at me.

The other end said something, and Baiyu gasped. "Huh? Clothes? No need. Even if you ask, President, talking about bust size is so embarrassing... Though it does get stuffy if they’re too small."

I saw her instinctively cover her chest. Baiyu had a big bust and was still growing, so her clothes got tight quickly. Why did I know? Because I often sewed buttons back on when they popped off.

This felt like a private conversation—not something I should be eavesdropping on...

But Baiyu was about to enter her room, turning the doorknob. "Hotel? Huh? It’s just for measurements. No need to go out of your way. Just come over when that guy’s not home..."

Those words stopped me dead in my tracks as I was retreating.

Hotel? Hotel? Two girls don’t need a hotel. What for? And when I’m not home?

Could it be...

No... It’s way too early for that! You’re just a middle schooler!