"You don't remember, but you wrote it."
After he said that, Tian Yu remembered that she had written this poem when she practiced calligraphy, but only once. She remembered that she threw it into the wastepaper basket after she finished writing it, and the next day the paper in the wastepaper basket was used to burn. How did he know that?
Zhao Moyan took out the crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Tian Yu. Tian Yu opened it and saw that it was the same piece of paper she had thrown away that day. The handwriting on it was also her own, and it was particularly ugly.
"You didn't keep all the scraps of paper I threw away when I was practicing calligraphy, did you?"
"No! I just thought this one was a bit special, so I kept it, but I should be able to recite all the ones you've written!"
Tian Yu swallowed hard, thinking, "It's quite special, but you don't have to be this amazing!" After hesitating for a moment and seeing that Zhao Moyan didn't say anything, she asked weakly, "Should I explain it to you?"
"Do you want to say something?"
"In no mood!"
"Then let's not talk about it."
"Will you be angry? I went to see him today without telling you."
"No! I'll see you if I want to. Why would I be angry?"
"I... there's nothing between Chen Chong and me. From now on, he'll just be my older brother!"
"I know! I'll listen when you're ready to talk. I'm a little tired and want to rest for a while."
"Okay! Go to sleep, I'll wake you when we get there." Tian Yu quickly straightened his clothes and said.
The car suddenly fell silent, and the sound of rain outside was exceptionally clear. Tian Yu was still thinking about the Emperor's meaningful look when they left, and she had a feeling that this matter was not over yet, and that this might really only be the beginning.
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