I Write Books in Ancient Times to Win His Heart

Shen Xi spent her whole life writing books, and finally succeeded in writing herself to death. As the saying goes, you reap what you sow. After dying, Shen Zuozuo became a frail little nobody with no parents, saddled with a timid aunt and beaten every day by her uncle-in-law. As a new generation talent brimming with imagination and a modern spirit, Shen Xi raised her hand. “I will never bow to the forces of darkness!” Returning to her old trade, she set up a street stall to tell stories, wrote serials and sold short fiction, and even put out a comic. Shen Xi’s business was booming, but she still didn’t dare throw caution to the wind, because… “Tell me, how many little figures did you draw with my face?” Lu Qingyi, the haughty one, pointed at the little drawings in the book with a dark expression. Shen Xi rolled her eyes and shakily held up five fingers. “Fifty thousand?” “No, no. Five hundred… thousand… at least.” “…”