Inside the study, Yang Xiaoyun let out a soft sigh.
The phrase "personally writing" had no special significance in itself.
However, upon seeing the handwriting, Yang Xiaoyun recognized it as Yang Yi's script.
It was not his usual handwriting, but another style he used when he practiced calligraphy.
Others may not recognize it, but to Yang Xiaoyun, it was instantly identifiable.
Yang Xiaoyun sighed in relief because Yang Yi was safe.
But she blamed him because he had been away for so long and this was the first letter he sent back, not even to his own daughter.
But to his son-in-law...
Nevertheless, she was not an ordinary woman. After pondering for a brief moment, she spoke:
"Xiao Xiao, help me grind the ink."
"Alright."
Zhen Xiaoxiao, while yawning, ground ink for Yang Xiaoyun.
Yang Xiaoyun dipped her brush in ink, thought for a moment before writing, but her face reddened before the tip touched the paper.
After a lengthy contemplation, she began to write:
