Okay, let's have porridge.
In the afternoon, the sales data of "Qing Tian" and Pei Muchan's condition were alike, both listless. Xu Qingyan had been drinking porridge all day, his complexion grayer than cement.
"This growth will take off sooner or later," Xu Qingyan had little to say, leaving behind those words before he ran off to work on his composition, unable to bail any longer, lest it affect his reputation.
In the evening, for the first time, Pei Muchan had some free time. She lazily rested from noon until night, occasionally staring at the sales data for "Qing Tian."
She checked the sales and then the rankings, occasionally doing some stretches in the office. Time had never seemed so long before, and the work had never seemed so boring.
