As soon as the company issued a 1,500 housing subsidy, Landlady Auntie Zhang blocked my door: 'This money belongs to me!' Nine thousand, ten thousand, thirteen thousand—don't even think about going out if you don't pay. She had me figured out: 'Within a three-kilometer radius, mine is the only residential complex, where are you going to move?' I endured it. Until she was still waiting for me to go back and beg her to sign the contract, but when I pushed open the door, I froze in place—the whole building was empty. She didn't know that the decision I made was a hundred times more ruthless than she thought. This time, it's her turn to beg me.