Xu Rouzhi had no choice but to follow Su Leyao to the other room. The room had tables and stools and paper and pens. Su Leyao handed over a piece of paper coldly: "Just copy!"
Xu Rouzhi took a look. Hmm, what's the difference between this and the ancient language I recited in school? It gave her a headache!
"This won't do," she returned the paper back to Su Leyao, who changed his expression, "You dare to refuse?"
"It's not that I'm rejecting you," Xu Rouzhi said as she curled her lips, "Firstly, you have to know that he has never seen me writing before, so she doesn't recognize my handwriting. This poem of yours is not my style, so even if I give him the letter, do you think he will believe that I wrote it? "