"Why are you in such a rush?" Yunzhi glanced at the person beside him, his almond-like eyes glinting with amusement. "Brother Fan is almost thirty, and he's not anxious at all."
"Nonsense." Xu Fan flicked his curled knuckle against the younger man's forehead. He was clearly only in his twenties; thirty was still a bit away.
"What do you mean? You're almost there anyway." After all, thirty wasn't that far from twenty-eight, just two years—gone in a blink.
Seeing the younger man clutch his forehead and cast a pitiful, accusing glance his way, Xu Fan chuckled softly. "Do you think I'm too old?"
When he asked that, there was a flicker of a subtle, unreadable emotion deep within his eyes.
"No, no." Yunzhi shook his head hurriedly, afraid that Xu Fan's thoughts might stray somewhere absurd. His expression was extraordinarily earnest. "Brother Fan will always be young in my heart."
