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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
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Chapter 82: The Mountain Returns at Dusk

Everyone thought the person on the poster was Umi, but it was actually Yun Yuwan.

Those two girls took a photo with her right in front of the magazine.

Her eyes, round as a cat's, were pitch black, distinctly separating black from white, much like a mystic spirit of the clear mountains, her face as pale as a palm, cheeks soft, and hair thick and straight like a waterfall. She was not just sweet, but there was a refreshing crispness that broke through sweetness, leaning more towards a cold beauty.

Because when she wasn't smiling, she still had crisp lines, a distinct beauty's sharpness, a straight and abrupt nose bridge, and a jawline that tapered gently to an extremely delicate chin, evoking a sense of pity yet a natural, resolute stubbornness.

With or without a smile, she was two different people, like the beautiful mountain spirit in the Classic of Poetry, when all sounds return to the mountain, led by orchids and female vines.