By the time he unfolded the letter and saw the extremely beautiful and neat small script covering the page, his eyes instantly deepened immensely.
It was simply a contrast between saltlessness and beauty!
The handwriting on the envelope was like that of a child who had just learned to write in the first grade, yet the handwriting on the letter was graceful and beautiful, with the strokes suggesting a hidden strength, pleasing to the eye.
Looking at the handwriting, Meng Xinian’s mind immediately conjured up an image of Chiang Xiao.
Right away, he had an intuition that this was Chiang Xiao’s handwriting.
But then he found it unbelievable—could such beautiful handwriting belong to a thirteen-year-old child?
Even if she had started learning at the age of five, it would’ve taken a considerable amount of time to recognize all the characters, and at least a decade of practice to develop such skillful writing.
But, a decade, Chiang Xiao?
Yet, when he read the contents of the letter, the tone between the lines, he was absolutely certain that this was a personal letter from Chiang Xiao.
Her address to him was also brashly straightforward—a three-word full name.
"Meng Xinian, greetings to you.
I’m sorry for writing to you after a month. To speak frankly, I indeed forgot..."
Look at this, just look—this tone, this attitude. If someone else had written it, how could they be so brazen as to say ’I forgot’?
Meng Xinian clenched his teeth.
Was his presence really that insignificant? Despite all the reminders and warnings, could he really be forgotten?
However, as he read on, his anger dissipated because Chiang Xiao had written all about the fun she had with her great-uncle on the mountain, including how she crushed a partridge and the incident when a mountain rat startled her into sitting on the ground.
The amusement leapt out from between the lines; she wrote as if her words flowed like clouds and water, without pause, and he read as if he were witnessing it all in person.
The taste of the wild game, the joy of the harvest, the deliciousness of the food, it was as if she brought them all to life with her writing.
Six pages of the letter were so engaging that he felt a sense of longing as he reached the signature and date, wishing there were ten more pages to read.
And so, Meng Xinian found himself facing another question.
Could a sixth-grade elementary school student really have such literary skill?
There were also many vivid phrases in the letter that he didn’t think were typical for her age group to use.
Meng Xinian looked at the letter, his eyes growing even deeper.
Chiang Xiaoxiao, oh Chiang Xiaoxiao, why do I feel you are full of mysteries and doubts?
Chiang Xiao would also think about the letter when she had free time, but since it had already been sent, and Meng Xinian must have seen it by now, worrying about it further was useless.
She simply didn’t bother with it anymore, and the very next day, she went to town and sent him all the things she made in a rush, including a second letter.
Because it was sent express, the next day, Meng Xinian received the package.
This time, the postal worker Xiao Qian once again witnessed the warm version of Meng Xinian.
Zhao Xin, unable to hide his curiosity, insisted on following Meng Xinian back to the dorm, eagerly watching him open the package.
Meng Xinian was currently staying in a four-person dormitory, though at this time, the other three roommates were out on missions.
"Captain, did it come from your sister-in-law?"
"Yeah." Meng Xinian’s mouth curved upwards, clearly in an exceptionally good mood.
He recognized the handwriting on the note; it was Chiang Xiao’s.
The girl was indeed praiseworthy. Although she was a month late in writing, the fact that she sent two letters consecutively also showed sincerity. And this time, she even sent a package.
He was very curious about what was inside.