A single sentence, concise and clear.
"If you have more money, but your life is hard and unhappy, does it mean anything?"
Yan Yajing turned her head, as if she was seeing him for the first time. She saw him supporting himself on the window with one hand, slightly turning away and leaving her with half of his face, like a melancholic poet, Yu Dafu. In her impression, he was always a frivolous guy cracking jokes, unimaginable if he didn't joke around for a day. It was said that when his hand was almost broken that day, he was still joking in the car with the two elders, making them furious.
"No wonder you always speak so casually," Yan Yajing said. "It sounds like Stephen Chow's nonsensical style, but when you think about it, your words aren't completely without substance."
She was praising him!
