The Strict Chief Editor

Although it was scorching summer, Qin Guan felt a cool breeze around his ankles. I’d better go. They thought I was a performer, but someone else might think I’m a beggar.

At home, Qin Guan put the elegant gift in its small container on the dressing table. He always felt like he was forgetting something in the summer. Working the next day would drive that thought out of his mind though.

In the evening, he replied to Bu Qinglu's email, typing with a single finger. It was something about accounts and statistics. In less than five minutes, Qin Guan had picked up two bugs and replied, drinking iced beer.

He had made a good beginning, so the work was as simple as drinking water for him.

Bu was sitting before his computer, lost in thought. He got Qin Guan's reply right away. All he had to do was pretend to be clever in front of the new accountant.