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A Crazy Love Proposal

Yun Yuwan carelessly lost Wen Yangzhi's letter, but the foreign butler assured her with certainty, "That was a love letter." She had been secretly in love with Wen Yangzhi for many years, and upon learning it was a love letter, she returned home overnight. Clutching the hope that he also liked her, she began to respond. At the dinner table, he said, "Come sit here" She ended up sitting on his lap, dressed in suit pants. When he renovated his newly bought villa, she playfully said she didn't like the crystal chandeliers. Some time later, his assistant told her: The letter Wen Yangzhi had sent was not a love letter at all, but a nine-figure check, intended as a birthday gift. The assistant laughed distantly, "Director Wen can't even be bothered to buy gifts, how could you think he liked you, Miss Yun?" — Long afterward, when Yun Yuwan brought up the incident with shame, Wen Yangzhi didn't reply, he just sparked his lighter, a tiny flame dancing on his handsome face, appearing indifferent and aloof. He never said it wasn't a love letter, Not all love letters contain sweet nothings, At least Wen Yangzhi's didn't. He wouldn't do something so cheap and insincere. Knowing that the men who approached her were after her money. He simply wanted to tell her. Her bit of money, he didn't care for it. — A nine-figure check expires in ten days, I've waited for you for ten years, undying affection still clouds my senses. — Self-loving, beautiful heroine x man whose bark is harder than his bite Independent brand florist x pioneering banker Theme: Adults don't deal in pretense

QuZhao · Urban
Not enough ratings
295 Chs
#SWEETLOVE
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#SECRETLOVE

Chapter 25 Put on Your Pants

Yun Yuwan's flower art exhibition ended smoothly, probably because it was located in the city center and the art gallery had promoted it on their official WeChat account and Weibo. Yun Yuwan had also invested in local topic popularity on major platforms ahead of time, attracting quite a few people.

Especially at the end of the exhibition corridor, where people were constantly taking pictures of the installation, striking various poses next to the artwork.

It was an entire wall, a large crack in the white, aged wall of Rose Factory from which a cluster of gorgeous roses were blooming—it was where the heart opened up. At the base of the wall, there was a cloud made of cotton, continuously spreading out like dry ice.

Strangled by branches and leaves, filled with thorns and bright red flowers, it was a sight too beautiful to behold—roses red as blood, jagged leaves green as a lake, and densely packed sharp thorns as pointed as icicles.