Zhao Zhan had indeed been careless in his moment of anxiety.
He didn't expect that those people already knew that he had to go to the relay station to send a letter every time he went to a place.
"Give me the letter, I'll help you deliver it."
Zhang Lingshen was still dressed like a scholar.
The passage of time had not left any deep marks on his face, especially when he stood next to the bearded Zhao Zhan. For a moment, it was difficult to tell who was the older one — Lingzhen or Lingshen.
"If you don't give me the letter, should I just leave?" Zhang Lingshen was about to leave. "You should think it through. Don't you want to receive a reply from your wife?"
Fang Tianliu looked left and right, then directly took the letter from Zhao Zhan's hand and handed it to him. "Thank you."
