The Bigshot Married Himself to the Heiress

Chapter 972 - 939: A Special Self-Reflection Letter

Three hours later,

"Dad, how do you write the ’qian’ in ’apologize’?"

"I don’t know how to write it."

"Dad, you’re an adult, how can you not know how to write it?" Curly looked at her father, her face full of disappointment.

"I’ve been learning Chinese for less time than you have." Adrian stared at his own chicken-scratch handwriting, feeling all stuffed up inside. Chinese characters were so hard to write.

1.5 thousand dollars worth of characters—it felt like an impossible mission.

"Dad, aren’t you part of the Orienta Diaspora? Don’t people from the Orienta Diaspora have to learn Chinese?"

"When your grandpa was still alive, he did hire a Chinese tutor for me. My speaking is okay, but after all these years, I’ve forgotten all those characters clean."

Curly scooted over and took a look at Adrian’s self-criticism, then went slack-jawed. "Dad, even the title ’self-criticism’ is wrong. The ’jian’ isn’t written like this.

And you wrote the ’ke’ in ’deeply’ wrong too... one, two, three... Dad, you wrote so many wrong characters."

"The characters are right though." Adrian stared blankly at the characters he’d written. He was sure every single one of them was correct.

"The characters are right, but the way you put them together into words is wrong."

"..."

"Dad, you’re so lame, you can’t even write characters."

Curly hugged her head, genuinely worried about her own IQ. She didn’t know if she’d become dumber when she grew up because her father’s genes weren’t good.

Curly’s words reminded him. Adrian suddenly had a brainwave and said, "Your mom never said the self-criticism has to be written in Orienta Language. I can write it in Amwan Language.

Haha, writing it in Amwan Language is so much easier. At least I don’t have to worry about how to write the characters."

Adrian’s Amwan Language flowed out incredibly smoothly. His pen flew across the page, and Curly watched from the side, full of envy.

"Dad, what are you writing?"

"A self-criticism."

"I mean, what’s the content..."

"Secret!"

Adrian, of course, wasn’t writing a self-criticism. He was writing a love letter to Sienna Johnson. Though he did, by the way, reflect a bit on his mistakes.

...

A week later, at dusk when the evening bell might as well have been tolling,

Lying on a deck chair listening to the chorus of frogs, Sienna Johnson received Adrian’s "self-criticism." The contents of this so-called self-criticism were completely off topic.

Dear Wife:

Thank you for coming into my world and meeting me at the most special time. Because of you, my life has become sweet, joyful, and colorful.

Thank you for walking into my life and choosing to be my lover. I may not be the best man you’ve ever met, but I will do my best to become the best I can be.

Thank you for being willing to marry me, to entrust your whole life to me. For a woman, what trust in a man is heavier than marrying him? In all the long years after this, thank you for being willing to hold my hand and walk through them with me.

Thank you for being willing to live with a man like me who never really grows up. I may sometimes make you angry, and when you’re sad I may not know how to comfort you, but please believe that in my heart, I definitely love you.

Thank you for being willing to give me a home. I wandered for too long, and when I needed a home the most, thank you for being willing to give birth to our healthy, adorable daughter. Thank you for not ending the pregnancy with Curly back when we broke up. When I found out I had a three-year-old daughter, I was so happy.

Thank you for being willing, when the sun is setting in the west, to lean against my side and watch the sunset and the sea or even just watch TV with me. That dependence isn’t just yours on me, it’s also my deep attachment to you.

Thank you for tolerating my bad temper through the long years. When I lose my temper at you, sulk, or throw fits, thank you for quietly bearing with me and putting up with me. Thank you for helping me slowly change my bad temper, and for giving you gentleness and care in return.

Thank you for giving me a happy life. Because I’ve lost before, I know better how to cherish. You were the first woman I fell in love with, and you’re also the only woman I’ve ever loved. I will use the rest of my life to love you.

Thank you for being willing to spend your whole life with me through all the long years, so that when our hair is white we can still support each other. Thank you for entrusting all the days of your life to me, so that in our later years we can still keep each other company.

If one day we both have to pass on and return to the earth, I hope we can leave at the same time and be buried together in our Ancestral Tomb in Abyanabad. I hope that when we are in our eternal sleep, we can still lean against each other. I hope by then you won’t still be muttering about how this old geezer has clung to you your whole life. When I wake again, I want the first thing I see to be you looking at me gently. If there is a next life, I still long to spend it with you.