"Of course, boss. You know who I am. I'm the little tyrant of Group Nine, the king of internal competition in eight dishes and one soup, the tyrant of the premium author group of Group Nine! What I write is naturally recognized by you, boss.
After all, it's thanks to your guidance!"
Please催我码字 struck a pose of exaggerated enthusiasm, proclaiming, "Revitalizing the glory of Group Nine is our duty," which made the corner of the editor's mouth twitch slightly with a rare smile. Then he coldly said:
"But as I recall, your opening seems a bit different from what you initially told me you were going to write."
Please催我码字's expression stiffened.
What could he say? Could he tell his editor that he was so engrossed in playing games that he completely forgot about this, and when he finally remembered, he was already dragged to the tavern by said editor wielding a Nail Head Hammer?
There was no way he could say that!
So, he could only stammer and try to explain to his editor.
