Zhou Yuwen wasn't troubled by his age, but he was a bit sentimental. Zheng Yanyan had gained weight again. Being fat was one thing, but now she couldn't control her weight at all, plopping down on him like a hydraulic jack. Who could handle that? Only Zhou Yuwen could.
However, Zhou Yuwen still teased her, telling Zheng Yanyan not to forget about losing weight in the future.
Zheng Yanyan was defiant, saying she hadn't gained weight.
Then why not weigh yourself on the scale?
Saying it but not daring to do it.
This cheeky girl.
Finally, after feeding these two girls, Zhou Yuwen could catch a breath and poured a five-millimeter glass of whiskey into a crystal-clear octagonal cup.
He sipped it bit by bit while enjoying the night view outside the window.
As a thirty-year-old man, the youthful passion of the young was no longer what Zhou Yuwen sought. Instead, he liked the tranquility that followed the passion.
A time that belonged to himself.
