"I... I wrote you a love letter?"
Chen Nan could hardly believe his ears, looking at Lan Yuqin with a puzzled face, he asked, "Are you sure it was me who wrote it?"
"Hmph! Wrote it and now you don't dare to admit it, so much for being a man!" Lan Yuqin glared at him coldly and then grabbed the envelope on the desk and threw it at him, "Take a good look for yourself, your name is even signed on it!"
Chen Nan took the envelope, pulled out the letter, and nearly collapsed on the spot.
Ni Ma, with such ugly handwriting and such poor writing, could it be mine?
Chen Nan felt like he was about to break down. He might not have learned English, but that didn't mean his Chinese was bad too!
He could recite three hundred Tang poems at the age of six, recite the Records of the Grand Historian at seven, and rattled off The Art of War by Sun Tzu at eight. He could be considered a talented person, but the literary flair in this love letter was even worse than Liu Tiantian's!
