Jiang Wu sending such an official letter should be a signal. He guessed it was the effect of two secret materials. He didn't think too much about the matter; curing Tang Gao was worth all this effort. Heroes bleed so that their descendants won't have to shed tears.
Typing letters felt even more motivated, after all, it's a formal job; once busy, there might be no time for part-time work.
Xueyin, writing homework in the living room, pouted her lips, feeling a bit absent-minded. She was about to become an apprentice, so why should she still be doing homework?
In the next room, the clatter and clacking sounded, as if Ah Xin were typing like he was shelling beans. How could this produce anything?
Could it be that the Night Patrol didn't want him anymore, and he's just pretending at home?
Knock knock knock...
