The next day, the bright sunlight passed through the window and hit Song Yaoyao's face.
Her back was sore. With a sob, she buried her head deeper into the quilt.
But a moment later, the curtains closed, and the room returned to darkness.
After a night, someone felt refreshed.
As for Song Yaoyao, she felt like the pitiful person in a novel who had her essence sucked dry by demons.
Oh, so pitiful!
...
Time flew by.
By this point, the production of Concubine Yan had been completed. All that was missing was the theme song.
Xu Yue and An Feiran were put in charge of managing the studio's internal affairs. Anything involving collaboration would first pass through Huo Jiu and Song Yaoyao
After all, Huo Jiu was in charge of more than just the matters of the studio.
The school cafeteria was bustling with people, and it was located in a slightly quieter corner.
