I'm Still the Same Washed-Up Writer I Was Back Then

"My birthday is tomorrow!"

Tang Xiaoyi curled his lips into a slight smile. Without his usual sharp tongue and arrogance, he seemed a little more like a child.

Fuyou glanced at the calendar and drawled, "Then... happy..."

"Tang Xiaoyi, you've got a letter. It says it's from a close friend of yours."

Before Fuyou could finish, Mo Duoduo pushed open the door, a piece of bread in his mouth and a letter in his hand.

"A close friend of mine?" Tang Xiaoyi couldn't help feeling puzzled. "I still have any friends who are alive?"

Tang Xiaoyi took the letter, but didn't open it right away. Instead, he wondered who had sent it.

Suddenly, he grinned. "I guess there really are a few of them still alive."

As he spoke, he hurriedly checked the address on the envelope.

Strangely, the envelope didn't have a return address, but his own address was written clearly.

P.S. Duoduo and the others are now...

This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.