Zhou Guanyu shook his head. "I know, but which F1 driver isn't proud and ambitious? You won't even let me have a dream? And if I can't have a dream I can't even sigh about it a bit?"
"Fine, fine, whatever you say is right."
After shooting the breeze with Zhou Guanyu for a while, the two of them quickly arrived at Qin Miao's front door.
The plane had landed at nine, then they'd rushed over by helicopter, chatted on the way, plus the time they got stopped by fans.
By the time the two of them reached home, it was already close to 11:30.
When Qin Miao walked up to his own front door, a very familiar smell of home‑cooked food was already drifting out.
Even though both his mom and Qimeng mainly cooked Hunan dishes, the aroma of their cooking was different.
After living with them for so many years, and after picking up cooking skills himself, Qin Miao's nose could easily tell their cooking apart just from the smell.
