A deep affectionate smile filled Bo Jinyu's eyes instantly, yet a flash of crafty malevolence clearly swept across the corners of his eyes.
Ye Anran regretted it as soon as she replied.
Why did she agree so impulsively?
Even if it was easy to copy a love poem per day, why should she be the one writing for him? Shouldn't he be the one writing for her?
Looking up at him, she found Bo Jinyu staring happily at the love poems she had written. His slender fingers were gently caressing the words as if they were some invaluable treasure.
Softening at heart, she felt that composing a love poem each day was nothing for her.
After all, he was so handsome. It made sense for her to write for him!
With a tender smile, Bo Jinyu held her small hand tightly, his gaze fixed on the lines of the love poems, unwilling to look away.
But under his affectionate gaze, Ye Anran's face had already turned red.
