Ning Xiaoshuang had received love letters before; her beautiful appearance had attracted much attention.
After all, she was so beautiful yet so impoverished.
No one would approach a lofty princess, but Cinderella was different — she was beautiful without the armor to protect that beauty.
Her loveliness seemed so easily taken.
Chen Meimei had already snatched the letter from the hands of another girl who was reading it.
The more she read, the redder her face became, as if someone had slapped her hard across it.
"Why?" Chen Meimei murmured lowly, in disbelief, "Why would Wang Xun write a love letter to you?"
Ning Xiaoshuang lifted her head stiffly, her voice grinding the fright into fragments, full of terror, "I don't know, I saw it when I came back."
Sitting beside Ning Xiaoshuang, Song Ming also spoke up, rather stiffly, "Meimei, Xiaoshuang really doesn't know, we just came back and found this love letter on the desk!"