"Will, won't, will, won't..."
In the afternoon, Qing Lan sat in the editor-in-chief's office, gazing at the dense sky outside the window, holding a pink peony flower in her hand, idly counting the petals.
"...Will."
Qing Lan looked at the last petal, carefully plucked it, and placed it in the notebook on her right. She pondered for a moment, picked up an ink pen, and opened the notebook to record the major events of the day—all important matters had to be recorded in writing.
Qing Lan knew that she wasn't particularly smart, and although Xiangxue Sea had her study and learn, it was only to raise her value and craft the persona of a 'confidant beauty.' Naturally, she didn't learn any practical knowledge, only reading either melancholic poems or flattering articles, along with seductive skills to attract men; ultimately, it was all about pleasing men.
