Seven years?
Mia Ginger, did she really debut at thirteen writing stories?
Earlier than her.
Knowing everything clearly, she silently watched her, as if seeing a joke, watching her be all pleased with herself, jumping all over.
Annoying, simply infuriating!
Zuri Ginger was almost burning up, grinding her teeth, her fists clenched making cracking sounds.
Her whole body ached from the fury.
She had never felt like this before.
Such overwhelming humiliation weighed down on her, suffocating her,
She was completely unprepared.
Just like that, in the field she was most proud of, in front of her, she was defeated.
Zuri Ginger took a breath, almost panting.
The corners of her lips pulled into a smile more bitter than crying, and she sat back down.
The crescent moon looked at her, inexplicably, felt relieved.
Mia Ginger also smiled, sitting back down.
The readers at the front stirred again.
Even—
Zuri Ginger’s readers also started to stir.
Zuri Ginger ntioned several tis on Twitter that she would be signing with Wine, many readers curiously checked out a couple of Wine’s novels, and quite a few liked them.
What young person doesn’t have a martial arts dream?
Since the earliest mories, wasn’t it martial arts dramas playing on TV all day?
Heroes and heroines of the Jianghu, free-spirited and righteous.
White-clad swordsman, green-robed scholar, red-clad enchantress, black-cloak hermit.
It was a vividly colorful dream, in the dream of Jianghu, there were wolves and flas, and also the north and south of the country.
In their imagination, at least soone of age draws the Jianghu, hiding a pair of deep and sharp eyes beneath thick lenses, a middle-aged man.
He might not be impressive looking, but should be wise, profound, and rich in experience.
Not a girl like right now.
Looked about their age, maybe even younger than them.
With short, soft, fluffy hair, a curved smile, eyes filled with pure brightness.
So clean, not a speck of dust.
So beautiful, breathtaking.
Too unexpected.
This situation was about to exceed their capacity to handle.
The boy at the front stared blankly at Mia Ginger, for a while, like he was dumbfounded, silent, not showing any reaction.
The readers behind were getting anxious.
Mia Ginger tapped the table twice, looked up and smiled: "Classmate, do you need to summon your soul?"
"Oh, no, no need." The boy blushed as soon as he spoke, stamring, "You... you really are Wine!"
"Genuine as can be." Mia Ginger still smiled.
"I absolutely love you!" The boy took a deep breath, placed the book on the table with both hands, opened it, still nervous, "Please... please sign."
Mia Ginger had practiced for days, without hesitation, beautifully with four elegant characters, all in one go.
"Thank you, thank you!" The boy took the book, cautiously.
"It’s who should thank you." Mia Ginger smiled warmly.
The boy stood there holding the book, reluctant to leave.
After a while, he blushed and forced out a sentence, "Can I shake your hand?"
Mia Ginger was slightly surprised, glanced at him, lowered her eyes and thought for a mont, smilingly said, "This won’t do. If I shake your hand, everyone behind will want to shake hands, how could I let you have such an advantage."
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