Why? Is It Not Going Well?

Half-written arrangements were scattered on the ground. Many pieces of paper had two lines crossed out, with seven or eight such pieces beside Qiao Nian’s chair.

After replying to Guan Yan’s message, Qiao Nian placed her phone aside, propped her long and straight legs under the table, and glanced at the waste paper scattered on the ground from the corner of her eye.

Qiao Nian bent down, picked up a piece, and held it to the light.

The white paper was not thick, to begin with. When the light passed through it, the flamboyant scrawl on it became even more eye-catching.

Suddenly finding inspiration, Qiao Nian immediately sat up straight and picked up her fountain pen again, writing a string of notes on the paper.

Knock knock.

Someone knocked on the door half an hour later.

Qiao Nian said without looking up, "It’s not closed."

Ye Wangchuan entered the room and saw that only a dim yellow lamp was turned on. Under its light, Qiao Nian was sitting cross-legged in front of the desk, her hair [casually draped over her shoulders and wearing a loose casual suit. Her slender neck disappeared into her collar.

She exuded a rare sense of leisure.

Ye Wangchuan approached and asked hoarsely, "What are you writing?" freewe蓳nov膿l.co杀

"Oh." Qiao Nian moved slightly and turned sideways for him to see. "Qing University is participating in an arrangement competition. There’s no one in the traditional musical instrument group, so I’ll be representing them."

This was exactly what he had expected.

"Mm." Ye Wangchuan was not surprised. Seeing the waste paper balls scattered on her table and the ground, he leaned forward to pick one and threw it into the trash can. Then, he casually said, "Is it not going well?"

Qiao Nian watched as he tidied up the table. Then, she let go of the fountain pen and lazily placed her arm on the armchair. "It’s alright."

Ye Wangchuan had already tidied up the waste paper on her desk, leaving only the one she was working on. Scores were densely written on it, with traces of ink editing. Qiao Nian must have immediately edited them upon sensing something off during the arrangement process.

"I barely came up with a sample." Qiao Nian looked at him. "I have to refine it carefully later. It’s best to test on an instrument."

Ye Wangchuan quickly tidied up the desk, his posture was as straight as a pine tree. Standing under the soft light, his eyes were seductive. "Have you thought about how to celebrate your birthday?"

"Huh?" Qiao Nian’s mind was filled with the arrangement and Nie Qingru. She had never thought about herself.

Ye Wangchuan saw she was looking at him in a daze and knew she had completely forgotten her original intention of returning. His slender fingers subconsciously pressed between his eyebrows and he helplessly sighed. "It’s almost your birthday. Have you never thought of how to celebrate it?" Qiao Nian indifferently said, "It’s just a meal." "A meal?"

"Me, Qin Si, Young Master Bo, my family, your family, and just these relatives and friends shall gather for a meal," Qiao Nian said casually. It was obvious she had never thought of celebrating her birthday.

Ye Wangchuan looked at her. After some time, he pursed his lips and brushed his fingers across the hair on her shoulder. "Is it that simple?"

Qiao Nian’s attention had already returned to the arrangement. Without looking up, she asked, "What else?"

Watching the light fall on her thin shoulders, Ye Wangchuan slowly said, "Do you know how people your age celebrate their birthdays in Beijing?"

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