When news of A-Yu's death arrived, Zhao Ruowu was terrified. She had never meant for A-Yu to die. In truth, it had been an accident; it should never have happened that way, but... A-Yu was dead.
After A-Yu died, Zhou Lang's heart turned to ashes. He never again mentioned marrying her off. He even said that as long as she cooperated, he would give her the status she wanted—the premise being that she cooperated enough.
Zhao Ruowu had no choice. If she wanted a life of comfort and luxury, she had to give something in return. That was only fair.
And now, she saw that familiar expression on Zhou Lang's face again. Such humble pleading was only ever connected to A-Yu. Zhao Ruowu was vexed beyond measure, but she could not show it. "Zhou Lang, hurry and take your medicine."
"Wu'er, I beg you for one thing. Now, only you can help me."
Zhao Ruowu grew increasingly irritated. I'm only a mortal woman. What can I possibly help you with? It's not like I can bring the dead back to life. "Zhou Lang, I..."
Zhou Ji had no other way. Everyone around him was his father's man. Apart from Wu'er, he could not even find a second person to deliver a message for him. He could not get out, but at the very least, he had to send the news out.
"Just delivering a letter?"
"Yes. I beg you, Wu'er."
Zhao Ruowu desperately wanted to refuse, but she could not. She still wanted to preserve her image in Zhou Lang's heart, so she prepared to agree. To be honest, she was rather curious—Zhou Lang was still recovering from his injuries, so how had he learned this news? She cast Zhou Lang a suspicious glance. *Could the head of the Zhou