Luo Xiaolu opened the system interface. Her Artistic Index had instantly jumped from four thousand to nine thousand.

Holy crap?! She’d only shown her face for a moment—and it doubled?!

Probably that short clip had captivated countless young girls again.

Luo Xiaolu sighed. Couldn’t these girls pay *some* attention to her inner qualities… or literally anything else meaningful?

Yep. Good looks were the ultimate superweapon. If given the chance, debuting as an idol might just conquer the world.

Knowing the system’s habits, once the index hit ten thousand, a serious reward would drop. She could hardly wait.

At Editor Green Leaf’s request, Luo Xiaolu registered a Weibo account—purely to connect with fans, *obviously* not to cash in on fandom easy money.

Her ID: Zhou Shuren. After verification, she refreshed. Comments flooded in.

“Sister Shuren joined Weibo!”

“Front-row seat claimed!”

“Sister Shuren, notice me!”

“Yesterday she called me family. What even are you guys?”

“Idiot. She’s *my* wife.”

Chaotic comments filled her screen. Zero desire to reply.

She’d expected literary enthusiasts or innocent teens. Nope—perverts existed in every world.

Worse ones posted explicit content and lewd images right there.

Unacceptable.

Who did they think she was? Zhou Shuren’s Weibo would *not* tolerate filth.

She saved every screenshot as evidence.

Done with that, she turned to her next novel.

The ceremony promo? All planned. Saved ad costs. Hitched a free ride on Penguin Group.

“Take your resources *and* demand payment? Shameless.”

She’d dressed meticulously, stunned the crowd. Was hitching a ride really so wrong?

Her last work, *Your Lie in July*, loosely followed *Your Lie in April*—but she’d reshaped it: lighthearted campus scenes, reworked side characters, sweeter moments. Shifted the vibe from “depressing” to “healing.”

Overall? Semi-original.

Next up: *The Garden of Words*. Direct adaptation.

Since her Writer Skill Card upgraded to Intermediate, memories of past-life works sharpened—near verbatim recall.

No more writer’s block. This time? Lightning speed.

After a short rest, she started writing that evening.

Signed contracts at dawn, writing by night—what proletarian spirit!

Mid-work, Editor Green Leaf called.

Penguin’s light novel department was panicking.

Announcing a new book out of nowhere? No consultation? Jumping ship?!

Such a valuable asset couldn’t slip away!

Green Leaf’s mission: sweet-talk the girl, probe her plans, keep her safe. “The outside web is dangerous!”

“Editors Green Leaf and Cucumber recognized my talent,” Luo Xiaolu smiled. “Why would I leave?”

Green Leaf’s heart fluttered. Luo Xiaolu pictured her sparkling, dewy eyes.

“But… if another company truly values my work? I might consider it.”

Casual. Devilish.

*“Truly values it?”* Green Leaf nearly fainted. *“She just means… pay more!”*

......

In a damp, gloomy room, a girl stared at the TV, shaking with rage.

On screen: Luo Xiaolu, smiling brightly at the signing ceremony.

This was Xia Mo—author of *Becoming a God Through Campus Romance*. A true otaku, curled in her nest wearing a tracksuit and baggy shorts.

Yes. The popular author was just a girl—unknown to her fans.

She’d placed second in the contest, shockingly beaten by the Five Rats. Silver medal. Decent prize. New followers.

But—

Third place? A total newbie.

And *her* book sold rights?! Got an anime?!

How?! Wasn’t that for the *champion*?!

First *and* third got deals? Where did that leave her?!

Unfair!!

Xia Mo sobbed into her instant noodles, stomping her feet.

She’d skimmed *Your Lie in July*. Novel style? Fine. But so *pretentious*!

Classic manipulator. Holier-than-thou fake. Only oblivious straight guys fall for this act!

Imagining Zhou Shuren’s characters on the big screen while hers stayed trapped in pixels made her pull her hair.

Writing since high school. Three years popular. Always “almost there.” Buyouts? Physical books? Anime? Never.

Even the noodles tasted bland now.

“No way!”

She snapped the fork, stood up.

“I’ll see what this Zhou Shuren *really* is! A fake like her—what gives?!”

*Hmph. Mock me? My cousin’s a school delinquent. I’ll have her beaten.*

She giggled, picturing the aloof goddess cowering in a corner, mask torn, helpless. Anger eased… slightly.

She sat back down, lifted the bowl—

Fork broken.

And cried again.