I asked you to write a light novel, but you wrote about living?

In the basement, the dim light from the screen shone on Yu Wen and Yu Yin's faces.

The interface of the Weiguang platform turned black and white within a second.

A poster of an old cow and an old man took up the entire screen.

The red number bar representing messages in the background jumped directly to "9999+".

Private messages, system notifications, and business messages from various brands poured in like a waterfall.

Yu Yin was holding the chipped enamel mug in her hand.

She looked at the scrolling data on the screen and the constant "beep beep" notification sounds coming from the computer's speaker.

In her mind, a few star coins were enough for a meal of synthetic starch cake that could fill her stomach, and a few dozen star coins could buy her brother a vial of pain-relieving medicine.

These meager figures represent the hard-earned money she painstakingly scraped together from piles of scrap metal on the black market every day after school, when she would crawl into the market after leaving the free public school.

But now, those people on the screen are crying and shouting online, throwing hundreds of thousands or millions of dollars into it, all for a few lines of black and white text...

"elder brother……"

Yu Yin pointed at the densely packed pop-ups and the frantically jumping donation numbers on the screen, her eyes widening little by little...

Yu Wen leaned back in his wheelchair; he knew what his sister was thinking.

He raised his hand, wiped the water off his chin with the back of his hand, and pulled at the corners of his chapped mouth.

"This is the power of words."

Yu Wen turned his wheelchair around and grasped the old mouse with its peeling paint on the edges. The mouse pointer swept across the long row of red dots labeled "9999+", without pausing.

He didn't read the lengthy articles from the readers, nor did he open the business cooperation agreements framed in gold.

His gaze was fixed on the hidden time bar in the lower right corner of the computer.

There are less than twelve hours left before the three million star coins penalty for breach of contract is enforced.

The cursor moved and stopped on the "Author Revenue Center" button.

Left-click. The webpage will redirect.

[Data Settlement Details for "Living" Across All Channels] Loading complete.

At the top of the page, the stage-by-stage donations and subscription revenue from the 1.6 million active users across the site are displayed after the story's completion at 120,000 words:

Total turnover: 2,580,000 Star Coins.

Immediately after Chang Liren hung up the phone, the highest level of management access to the Weiguang backend was granted.

The system refreshed rapidly, displaying a brand-new federal tax and platform 10/90 rule settlement announcement (platform 10%, author 90%):

税后净收益=(2,580,000×90%)×(1−10%)=2,089,800

Scroll down to the bottom.

A line of green final withdrawal numbers popped up.

Current withdrawable balance in account: 2,089,800 Star Coins

Two million eighty-nine thousand eight hundred Star Coins.

The only sound in the basement was the hum of the computer fan. Water dripped from the tap in the corner into a rusty metal bucket.

There are still 910,200 Star Coins short of the three million debt.

The countdown to debt collection for dark web lending continued to flash red at the edge of the screen.

But Yu Wen's breathing was steady.

He picked up the remaining half-glass of water on the table, took a sip, and leaned back against the worn leather back of his wheelchair.

He remained calm.

Because on the earnings center page, the green number never stayed still.

In the top right corner of the donation details section, the names of the gift effects were displayed as an indistinct blur.

[2,089,800 Star Coins]

Two seconds later, the numbers changed.

[2,145,500 Star Coins]

Blink again.

[2,288,000 Star Coins]

The emotions of 1.6 million living readers have only just begun to emerge from the initial period of silence.

Readers who had recovered from the shock and were now breaking down in the comments section were showering the comments with virtual gifts.

The shortfall of over 900,000 star coins is being rapidly filled by constantly fluctuating green numbers at a speed visible to the naked eye.

That night's performance of "To Live" was like a money-printing machine.

……

The following day, Sunday, morning.

The alleyways of Slum No. 7 were filled with the musty smell of water that had fermented overnight.

Yu Yin pushed open the iron door to the basement and walked onto the cracked concrete street.

She and Yu Wen sat in front of the computer all night without closing their eyes.

But her eyes were bright, with a few bloodshot veins in the back, and her steps were firmer and faster than usual.

She first went to a street corner stall and bought two synthetic starch cakes, wrapped them tightly in old newspapers, and tucked them into her bosom.

She then walked around two alleys lined with black ventilation pipes and stopped in front of a black market pharmacy converted from a decommissioned cargo spaceship.

She placed her hands on the rusty hatch and pushed it forward forcefully.

"Squeak—"

The heavy hinges made a scraping sound.

The moment the hatch was pushed open, a pungent smell of cheap tobacco mixed with the smell of engine oil hit us.

The old blind man sat in a wheelchair behind the counter.

Outside the counter, leaning against the wall was a one-eyed man dressed in worn-out auto mechanic clothes.

The man's face was half covered in burn scars, and he was holding a dented metal flask in his hand.

Both men had hand-rolled tobacco dangling from their mouths, a sliver of crimson glowing intermittently in the dimly lit pharmacy, ash falling in a soft rustling. They were engrossed in their conversation, not even stopping immediately when the cabin door was pushed open.

"...Fugui is too tough. When I saw him take the money to buy that old ox that was about to be slaughtered, I really couldn't hold back."

The one-eyed man tilted his head back and gulped down a mouthful of cheap alcohol, his Adam's apple bobbing violently.

"That old ox is so old it can barely walk, just like him."

The old blind man exhaled a white smoke ring, and the gears of his mechanical prosthetic eye twitched twice.

"Fengxia and Kugen were truly miserable."

The old blind man tapped his fingers, which were holding a cigarette, on the armrest of his wheelchair:

"The good days were ruined in no time, and then there was that time at the hospital when they were taking Youqing's blood... Those old men in the upper district, exchanging organs and blood from us in the lower district, weren't they just as cannibalistic?"

Yu Yin walked towards the counter carrying the paper bag.

She didn't pay attention to the fragmented names, took a few coins out of her pocket, and slapped them on the greasy table.

"bite."

The sound of coins clinking together interrupted the conversation.

The one-eyed man stopped talking, turned his head to glance at Yu Yin, and stepped aside half a step while holding his cigarette.

Hearing the noise, the old blind man's two cloudy mechanical prosthetic eyes turned downwards with the faint sound of gears turning, focusing on Yu Yin.

"Uncle Xia, get two vials of high-purity synthetic protein solution."

Yu Yin pointed to the coin.

The old blind man took the cigarette holder out of his mouth and stubbed it out in the metal box next to him.

He turned his wheelchair and slowly took two glass tubes from the temperature-controlled cabinet behind him, pushing them onto the counter.

His fingers remained pressed against the glass tube, not immediately releasing them, and a smile tugged at his gaunt face.

"Girl."

The old blind man looked at her. "Last time you told me your brother was making money by writing?"

Yu Yin straightened her back and met their gazes: "Um, what's wrong?"

I recommend a book to you.

"It just finished airing last night, it's very popular, and everyone on the internet is talking about it."

Yu Yin held the egg white liquid in her hand, the cool temperature of the glass tube against her palm.

She casually asked, "What book?"

"To Live"

Yu Yin: ? ? ?