I am Liuyan.

"Hey, Lin Xia, here to buy soy sauce?" Liu Chunhua, the owner of the small shop a couple of houses down from Lin Xia's, greeted her with a cheerful smile.

"Hello, Aunt Liu. I'd like two yuan's worth of soy sauce, please," Lin Xia replied, distant but polite.

"Of course! I heard you did very well on your exams this time, even ranked first in the whole school!"

Hearing this topic brought up again, Lin Xia could only smile and remain silent.

"I always said you'd do well for yourself. Just look, you're always so polite, greeting everyone you pass. See? It's paid off!"

"Heh, I'm not as good as you say, Aunt Liu." Lin Xia took the soy sauce from her, adding, "Here's the money, Aunt Liu."

Once Aunt Liu took the money, Lin Xia gave a quick farewell and immediately turned to leave.

Behind her, Aunt Liu called out, "Come by and play when you have time, alright~"

Lin Xia kept a faint smile on her face, but her heart had grown heavy.

That Aunt Liu was notorious for her loose tongue and spreading gossip. In her previous life, because Lin Xia remained unmarried for a long time, her parents had suffered plenty thanks to Aunt Liu. She would talk to anyone she met about how things were at the Lin house.

Just thinking of her face made Lin Xia feel sick.

After handing the soy sauce to her mother, Lin Xia returned to her small room, drew some water from her spatial ring into a plastic basin, and began her routine.

She now managed the ring with ease, able to store and retrieve items at will—a simple thought would bring anything from within right to her hand. Drawing water from the space was as natural as breathing.

Lin Xia was thoroughly satisfied with the ring—it kept everything fresh, warned her of lost items or danger, and seemed to be a gift from the heavens.

Humming to herself, she watered the flowers and plants on the balcony. After much experimentation, she had discovered the water from her spatial pool had a special effect: the plants watered with it, on the left, were visibly healthier than those on the right.

Just the other day, her mother had remarked in confusion that, though all the plants had come from the same shop, half of them looked vibrant while the others were wilting.

In truth, the plants not watered with spatial water were doing fine; they just suffered by comparison.

After finishing with the plants, Lin Xia gazed at her reflection—a face as ordinary as ever, but she couldn't help her delight. Her little savings were steadily growing, her grades were stable, and most importantly, thanks to her conscious efforts, her skin was much fairer than before.

Of course, she couldn't compare to television celebrities, but compared to her former self, the change was striking.

As the saying goes, fair skin covers a hundred flaws.

Even a girl with the plainest features, if her complexion was light, would appear so much more delicate.

Moreover, thanks to Lin Xia's writing, her family's circumstances had improved greatly over the past year. Because "Girl, Don't Cry" was about to be published, certain contracts required a guardian's signature. Only then did her parents learn, to their shock, that their quiet daughter had written such a thick book—and that a publisher wanted to release it.

If Lin Xia herself was merely pleased by the prospect of publication, her parents were utterly overjoyed. They were not well-educated, but they had always pinned their hopes on their children. Now, their eldest daughter had achieved so much before even coming of age; no wonder the two who had led such ordinary lives were beside themselves with pride.

"Girl, Don't Cry" did not earn much money. Over the semester, Lin Xia had published about a dozen short stories and several essays in "Fine Rain" magazine.

Her acceptance rate was astonishing—nearly ninety-nine percent. For instance, if she submitted four pieces in a month and only two were used due to column limits, the remaining two would be published the next month.

The editor-in-chief of "Fine Rain" had a discerning eye; impressed from the start, they bought her first two stories for a newcomer’s rate of a hundred yuan per thousand characters. After that, almost every issue featured her work—usually two pieces, sometimes as many as four.

With her experience from the future, Lin Xia could portray the inner world of girls with uncanny accuracy, winning enthusiastic feedback from readers for her pen name, Liu Yan.

Yes, that was her pen name—Liu Yan. It had become a habit. She had used it for almost ten years as a reader on a girls’ fiction website and naturally stuck with it when she began writing herself.

Not only was her writing of high quality, but her output was prolific as well. Now she commanded 120 yuan per thousand characters.

Seizing the momentum, "Fine Rain" published Liu Yan's first youth healing novel, "Girl, Don't Cry." Before the book even hit the shelves, three installments had been serialized in the magazine, ending right at the most suspenseful moment, leaving readers desperate for more.

Once released, the book nearly sold out—almost 200,000 copies across major book markets.

The result astonished Lin Xia. She had thought selling 100,000 copies would be a dream come true.

The book had been purchased outright, as she was still a newcomer and not in a position to bargain with publishers. Still, "Fine Rain" was generous, buying all rights for 800,000 yuan.

Before publication, Lin Xia had made a conservative estimate: even if her popularity pushed sales to 100,000 copies at 22 yuan each, that would be just over 2 million yuan. So, selling all rights for 800,000 seemed she had come out ahead—not knowing how many readers she would truly have.

To match the likes of Han Han or Guo Jingming was beyond her wildest dreams. Han Han’s "Triple Door" had sold over two million copies overseas, and Guo Jingming’s "City of Fantasy" sold half a million in just a few months.

So, when the magazine called to tell her the book sold nearly 200,000 copies, Lin Xia’s first feeling was not joy but relief.

She had never been sure of herself—once a science student in her past life, now a fledgling writer who feared her success might be fleeting.

She never expected such support from readers. It moved her deeply, even more than it made her happy.

But nothing pleased her as much as the change in her father’s attitude.

Yes.

Her father, Lin Jiagui, had undergone a complete transformation.

He had always valued science over literature and hoped his daughter would study the sciences, believing only those fields could secure a good living.

Yet his daughter had earned more from a single book than he had in a lifetime of hard work.

Faced with this fact, he fell silent.

When Lin Xia gave him Guo Jingming’s "Left Hand in Seven Days" to read, he finished it, heaved a long sigh, and smiled at his daughter. "You kids are grown up now, with your own ideas. I’m getting old and can’t control you anymore. Whatever path you want to take, just go for it. Mom and Dad will always have your back."

With that, he patted Lin Xia’s still-slender shoulder and left her room.

As she watched her father’s tall figure retreat, Lin Xia felt in that moment—

Her father had truly grown old.