This is truly a sad fact. Once a woman turns twenty-five, it feels like time is rushing forward on a fiery wheel, even if you try desperately to catch up, you still feel it's passing too quickly, youth fades, and the years advance.
Twenty-nine years old—well, in just one month Jian Anning will turn thirty, and now she feels it most profoundly. Even though she is undeniably beautiful now, she can no longer shamelessly call herself "young."
"That's nonsense!" Yu Zexiao exclaimed in a mix of laughter and tears as he hugged her tightly, "She may be younger than you, but... in my eyes, you're the most beautiful."
"You're talking nonsense!" Jian Anning turned back, ready to scold him, but was caught unawares by his tight, unexpected kiss.
"Whether it's nonsense... you'll find out later." His voice was like a pot of coffee, its hoarseness alluring and enchanting.
For a man, what best proves his true feelings? The simplest, most direct method, of course, is to bring her to the bedside!
