Miss Witch, even if we're poor, we can't sell ourselves!

The ban notification was still displayed in the center of the live stream. Mi Ye stared at the line of white text one last time, then stretched her stiff shoulders and turned off the live stream software.

She wasn't frustrated; to be precise, she even felt a little bit like laughing.

Being banned by a platform is not a glorious thing for any streamer, but if the reason for the ban is because of portraying two top public figures too well, then the ban is more like a medal.

I closed the live streaming app and casually opened the background data panel to see how the battle had progressed over the past hour.

Then she was dumbfounded.

The numbers in the background lay there quietly, but she stared at them for several seconds, then refreshed the page to make sure she wasn't seeing things.

[Fan growth: +2147]

Current total number of followers: 2148

It's worth noting that when she started her live stream with this account early this morning, she had zero followers.

The live stream lasted less than two hours, and the number of fans increased from zero to more than two thousand. This growth rate is monstrous in the entire MikuFans virtual streamer category.

The total revenue from gifts is even longer; after deducting the platform's share, the amount received is approximately five thousand.

She leaned back in her chair, put the plate back on the corner of the table, and then touched her forehead with the back of her hand.

He has no fever and is perfectly lucid.

She knew that being a VTuber was a quick way to make money; she knew it in her past life.

A pleasant-sounding costume, combined with some interactive techniques, can make audiences willingly spend money.

But she really wasn't prepared for the money to come in so quickly.

Then she remembered the paid comment that read "I really want to sleep," and the line "Streamer, I want to see them make love," and Mi Ye couldn't help but laugh again.

She silently made a mental note of this generous benefactor, planning to draw a special picture to thank this sleepy boss once she was released from quarantine.

"It's worth being locked down for even a day."

She stretched in front of the screen, feeling incredibly happy.

Then her gaze was drawn to the comment section notifications that kept popping up next to the back-end panel.

The comment section for new streamers is usually quite quiet after the live stream ends. Viewers leave and it's a question whether they'll even remember you the next day.

But her discussion forum is different.

The number following the red unread message notification was 99+, and it was still jumping up at a visible speed.

Mi Ye clicked on it, then leaned back and started scrolling down one by one.

The top comment has been pushed to the top, with over 500 likes, and it says...

[Host, host, your doujinshi was caught red-handed by the artist. How do you feel about that?]

The reply below mentioned a duplex building with dozens of floors, according to some.

[Host: Thanks for the invitation, I'm currently in the dark room]

Someone also posted a screenshot of the system notification pop-up when Reminal entered the live stream. The chat assistant displayed "Welcome [Reminal] to the live stream," with the caption "At this moment, history has been rewritten."

The third most popular comment only has one line of text.

My mother scolded me.

Then, a hand-drawn chibi-style maid was added, depicting the image of the girl tilting her head in the live stream, with the words "Mom" written next to it.

The number of likes on this comment is still rising.

Upon seeing this, Miya silently closed the comment section, deciding to temporarily put aside such shameful thoughts.

She left Mikufans, rubbed her cheeks which were sore from laughing, stretched out a big yawn in front of the table, and her spine cracked a few times.

The chocolate cake plate on the table was empty, and the milk glass was also emptied.

The morning light had completely filled the room.

The early morning tram line outside the window began to run, and the faint hum of the wheels rolling over the tracks could be heard through the glass.

Six o'clock in the morning in Bellavita.

The last few magic streetlights had just been extinguished, and the glowing vines on both sides of the street dimmed in the increasingly bright sunlight, taking on the colors of daytime.

There was still no movement downstairs; the entire Nightingale's Nest was as quiet as an unopened gift box.

She changed out of her nightgown and put on a cream-colored sweatshirt and beige shorts, pressing down the stray strand of hair that was sticking up the most.

If I can't suppress it, forget it.

Then she put her phone and the bank card with a little over two thousand yuan left in her pocket, slipped on her leather shoes, and tiptoed downstairs.

Pushing open the carved wooden door of the Nightingale's Nest, a breeze carrying the unique crispness of the morning and a faint floral fragrance greets you.

The bakery across the street was already open, warm yellow light shining from the window, the aroma of freshly baked bread mingling with the scent of coffee wafting across half the street.

She stood at the doorway and looked up at the sky.

Today is also a beautiful day.