“Here, this is the laptop. Take your time revising it here.”
Su Yao glanced at the notebook in front of her, then looked over at Yun Qing standing about two meters away.
It’s not like I just hit you last time, right?
Yun Qing obviously wasn’t satisfied with the initial draft, so she tossed it back to Su Yao, demanding a complete rewrite.
From her expression, it was hard to tell if she was deliberately making things difficult or if the script really was no good.
But since she paid so straightforwardly and generously, Su Yao naturally didn’t dare complain.
You can’t be ungrateful when someone’s footing the bill—just a simple revision, no big deal.
When Yun Qing first approached Su Yao, Su Yao had already agreed to revise it, but she said she would do it after school since she didn’t have a computer with her at the moment.
Yun Qing gave her a sharp look, saying she’d handle the computer issue but the revisions had to start immediately.
The initial review only lasted three days, and five days later it would go to the director’s team for approval.
After saying that, she hurried off.
When she returned, sure enough, she brought a fairly new-looking laptop.
Su Yao didn’t know much about cars, but she was familiar with electronics—especially big brands like Apple.
When she held the laptop, it felt a bit heavy—not the laptop itself, but the weight of the soft currency (Renminbi) spent on it.
Su Yao handled it very carefully, afraid of dropping it and having to pay for damages.
If that happened, she probably would’ve cried.
Writing requires a quiet environment, so Su Yao took the laptop to the library and found a secluded spot.
She plugged in the charger, powered on the device, entered the password, connected to the library’s network, then logged into her QQ Account to pull up the saved files.
It was her first time using an Apple laptop, so some functions felt unfamiliar.
Once alone and settled, Su Yao finally focused on writing the script.
She re-read the original draft and didn’t think there was much wrong with it.
She considered it decent for her level—even though she wasn’t highly skilled, she’d seriously studied online yesterday.
She’d worked straight from past eleven at night until after three in the morning.
This script was her carefully crafted piece.
Now having it sent back for revisions was a bit frustrating, but getting paid made her slightly happy, so she didn’t get angry.
The document contained comments, which Su Yao read through carefully before starting to revise the original content.
After spending a full hour, Su Yao finally finished.
She found Yun Qing’s account in the class group chat and messaged her privately, then—
Sent the second draft.
She waited until Yun Qing confirmed receipt before stretching and yawning.
Although classes were in the afternoon, Su Yao had slept from three in the morning to eleven, yet still felt extremely drowsy upon waking.
Unable to nap lying down, she got up to eat something before heading to class.
After two long classes—one of which was advanced math—she’d been extremely focused to keep up with the teacher’s explanations.
That intense mental effort drained her energy, leaving her exhausted after class.
And now, here she was, resting her head on the desk with eyes half-closed, dozing lightly.
Because the library’s central air conditioning was on, it was warmer inside than outside.
Su Yao didn’t wear her hat and even loosened the scarf around her neck.
But before she could rest much longer, a message popped up on Koukou.
The second draft’s feedback was: “Not bad, but something feels missing.”
A long string of comments followed. Su Yao skimmed through and roughly understood the meaning—barely passing, but room for improvement.
At that, Su Yao couldn’t help but twitch the corner of her mouth.
Although she didn’t say it aloud, her face lit up with pride.
She didn’t have a professional background—if they wanted something better, why not hire a gun-for-hire online?
Or get someone from the neighboring Literature Department to write it?
Su Yao was annoyed.
Just as she was about to fire off a retort online at Yun Qing, she suddenly heard someone call her name… presumably for her?
“Yaoyao?”
She looked toward the voice and saw Mu Nanqiu holding a book.
Su Yao froze for a moment, realizing Mu Nanqiu must have seen her earlier gleeful expression.
She felt a flush of heat creeping up her cheeks.
Mu Nanqiu had come to return a book she borrowed last time.
She’d gained a lot from it and planned to borrow something similar.
Unexpectedly, she ran into Su Yao.
From a distance, she spotted the familiar black down jacket and the scarf she’d gifted—identifiers unmistakable.
So Mu Nanqiu walked over and sat opposite Su Yao, asking,
“Yaoyao, what are you doing here?”
“Uh…”
Su Yao minimized the laptop screen, eyes darting, avoiding Mu Nanqiu’s gaze.
She didn’t want Mu Nanqiu to know she was earning money this way, but she’d been caught red-handed.
Su Yao pondered how to explain herself convincingly enough to stop further questions, but she wasn’t good with words.
After a long moment of silence, she simply said nothing.
“Tell me about it.”
Mu Nanqiu was patient.
She sat upright.
Today, she wasn’t wearing her usual trench coat but a light white down jacket with fluffy fur on the hood’s rim.
Her lower half was a pale gray long skirt, probably a dress underneath.
Compared to her usual plain makeup, Mu Nanqiu’s face was brighter today.
Her lipstick had switched from a cool tone to a warm, glossy shade, making her cherry-like lips resemble a delicate peach blossom petal.
When Su Yao’s gaze landed on Mu Nanqiu’s lips, Mu Nanqiu’s mouth curved into a slight smile.
Su Yao noticed the subtle change and quickly looked down, still thinking about her earlier expression, unconsciously pressing her lips together.
To prevent Mu Nanqiu from imagining the worst, Su Yao took the initiative and steered the conversation toward the script.
“The original script for our class’s program wasn’t good, so it needs rewriting…”
“So they gave it all to you?”
Mu Nanqiu frowned, her tone cold.
Su Yao was startled, seeing Mu Nanqiu seemed somewhat angry.
Afraid to explain she took the job to earn money, she just brushed it off vaguely.
“It’s fine. I’ve finished it. I’m just making small edits now. Once done, they can rehearse again tonight.”
Mu Nanqiu looked at Su Yao deeply, sighed softly, then smiled.
“I’ll help you.”
“Hmm…”
“Don’t worry about bothering me. It’s just a small thing. Besides, I’m free anyway.”
“Okay, then.”
Su Yao nodded, agreeing.
She reopened the laptop screen as Mu Nanqiu got up and sat beside her.