Zheng Congyuan remained silent, lifting his head from the unfinished characters flowing smoothly in front of him and looking towards the young girl almost draping herself over him. His eyes deepened a shade but he was helpless nonetheless.
He knew all too well how smart she had become, speaking without any filter.
"Not saying anything? Was I right?" Zheng Nianru was neither happy nor unhappy. It was the best strategy, though she had died once before and her identity and such matters had become less significant to her. In her previous life, she had proposed this, and Zheng Congyuan had been unwilling. Zheng Nianru felt that this life would likely be the same.
Zheng Congyuan turned his head, his right hand holding a brush, rarely in the mood for calligraphy, hoping to finish. However, the presence beside him was like a clingy kitten. Zheng Congyuan extended his left hand, gently tapping the girl's forehead with his index finger.
