Before they knew it, the sky had already darkened.
The school went from quiet to noisy, then from noisy back to silence.
Only the sound of three people holding pens, writing relentlessly.
In the office, Tao Feifei let out a long yawn, placed down the mouse, and rubbed her eyes, glancing at the bottom right corner of the computer screen.
December 24th, 7:10 PM.
"Ah..." she couldn't help but sigh.
Spending Christmas Eve at the age of 27 like this.
But hearing the incessant scratch of pens nearby, she smiled faintly, as if finding some solace.
She looked around.
Jiang Qinghua wore a look of utter despondence, lying sideways on the desk, mechanically writing on the draft paper. It didn't look like he was calculating, but merely venting.
Lin Yujing was still focused intently, no different from the start.
As for Li Zheng, before Tao Feifei saw him, she noticed the seven or eight densely packed sheets of draft paper next to him, looking like some cult scripture.
