Chapter 67 Young Master, how do you like my writing? [Please favorite, please recommend]

"Typing? Type what? Let me tell you, writing novels doesn't make money, there's only a dead end, I, Fury Wine Cooking, will never write novels again in my life!"

Gong Hui's roaring voice echoed above the dinner table.

"This is your contract."

Liang Lan handed the contract to Gong Hui.

"Err..."

Gong Hui quickly glanced over the contract then scrutinized it three times carefully, lifting his head in disbelief, "Is this real?"

"Real!" All the authors nodded seriously.

"Damn it!"

Gong Hui rushed back into the room he had just come out of!

Clatter!

"Young Master, how's my writing?"

Gong Hui, with a sycophantic smile and sweating profusely, presented his freshly written manuscript to Xiaobu.

"En?" Xiaobu looked at Gong Hui with a mischievous smile and pretended to ponder, "What was someone saying just now?"

A meter and a half tall elder coughed twice, "Let me tell you..."

A hot-dry noodles lover held back a laugh, "Writing novels doesn't make money..."