An Jingxin smiled secretly, raising an eyebrow, "Didn't you say you didn't want it?"
Wang Youbao argued defiantly, "Even so, you can't just burn it. After all, Miss Li took the time to write it."
Stubborn as a drowned duck. An Jingxin's secret smile grew wider, though she didn't show it and didn't expose Wang Youbao's pretense, simply saying, "Now that the letter is in your hands, I could say I've completed the task my apprentice gave me. As for what you do with it, that's up to you."
"You..." Wang Youbao, holding the letter, suddenly felt as if he were handling a hot potato, reluctant to let An Jing and Xiao Changyi burn it again, but propriety made him feel he shouldn't have accepted the letter, let alone read it.
As if oblivious to Wang Youbao's dilemma, An Jing said, "By the way, Youbao, did you buy sweet potatoes to make glass noodles? We've been away for over three months, and I have no idea whether you've made them or not."
