Zhong Yuye took the script, flipped through it casually, and let out a snort of derision, "Another one of these brain-dead TV dramas? I'm not interested."
He hadn't returned the script to Rong Yan yet when she calmly said, "You've lost a bet, you've lost to me, this is my condition, you have no choice."
Zhong Yuye slowly took back the script, squinted his eyes, stared at her, then suddenly, his thin lips curled up, and he arrogantly raised an eyebrow, "Interesting."
"I'll take this job!"
Rong Yan always felt a gaze on her, which made her uncomfortably feel like a little wife caught cheating by her husband.
After Zhong Yuye accepted, she hurriedly said, "I'll wait for you here in a week."
After she finished speaking, she was about to leave.
"Wait."
Rong Yan turned her head back.
"I only come back here on the third of every month." A business card flew onto her, "The young master's phone number, keep it safe!"