Holding the letter in a daze, An Ruo once again sighed at the irony of fate.
If back then she had read this letter, maybe she would have waited for him to return before deciding whether to get engaged to Mo Hua or not.
If she had read it, perhaps the outcome would have been different, and she wouldn't be struggling today.
But she did not, and was this what they called the tricks of fate?
An Ruo sighed wistfully, holding the last letter in her hand, determined to finish reading it; she didn't want to miss out on anything anymore.
Upon opening the last letter, there were two neatly folded sheets of paper inside.
One of them showed traces of ink strokes; she decided to open that one first.
[An Ruo, do you remember the portrait you drew of me? That was the only painting you ever did of me, regretfully, I didn't keep it, which has always been a regret of mine.
When you were drawing my portrait, I was shocked by the me you painted.
