Su Rong had never personally written a marriage document, but she had destroyed one before.
Looking at her current state, although she was taken care of properly, it was still different from her usual self. She didn't want to remember writing the marriage document for Zhou Gu like this: huddled up in the horse-drawn carriage, unable to move, her body covered in wounds, weak and pale, with him supporting her hand as she wrote.
So, she negotiated with Zhou Gu, "Since I've promised you, I won't go back on my word. Can we postpone the marriage document? When my injuries are healed and I can move by myself, I'll write it for you, alright?"
"No." Zhou Gu couldn't wait for even a moment longer. If it wasn't for her lack of energy yesterday, he would have put the pen in her hand and urged her to write.
Feeling helpless, Su Rong looked at him, "Aren't you being too impatient?"
Zhou Gu disagreed, "I think it's perfectly fine."
