"Have you finished writing?" He Zeqing asked the moment he settled into the couch, his eyes sharp with curiosity.
Qi Jianyi rolled her eyes, sipping her tea. What was wrong with this cousin of hers? Ever since she had casually mentioned she was working on a manuscript, He Zeqing had been relentless, pestering her with questions and attempting to pry every detail.
Now, as if he could sense she was done, the young president had appeared at her door without warning.
"It's done," she replied offhandedly, hiding her amusement.
Feigning indifference, He Zeqing stretched out his hand. "Hand it over."
"What?" Qi Jianyi raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his confidence.
"Where is it? Let me read it. Who knows? I might even invest in your manuscript," he said with that unwavering confidence of his.
Qi Jianyi laughed at his audacity. "Cousin, it's not time for you to read it just yet."
"Why not?" he asked, clearly displeased.
