Yan Ningke looked toward the voice.
The blue mosquito curtain was pulled aside, and a white-haired old man walked out, swearing under his breath. He wore an undershirt and shorts and carried a fan.
The moment he saw Shao Ke, his eyes widened. Without a second's delay, he pointed his fan at him. "You brat! You're doing this to spite me, aren't you? Of all the times you could come, you had to pick my afternoon nap!"
"Are you trying to send me to an early grave so you can inherit my pension?"
Shao Ke's voice was cold and utterly blunt. "Keep your little bit of money for yourself. Stop embarrassing yourself by bringing it up!"
Old as he was, the old man thought quickly. Knowing he couldn't win against him, he immediately changed tack and turned to Yan Ningke, who was innocently watching the show. "Young man, do you see that? That's the ugly face of a capitalist. You're still young. Don't let that face of his fool you."
The old man clasped his hands behind his back, his face full of disdain. "Aside from his face, what is there to like about him?"
Yan Ningke blinked. "But I can't put his face aside..."
He admitted that he had first wanted him for his looks, then hoped that screwing would lead to love.
Though he hadn't gotten to the screwing yet.
The air suddenly went quiet. A smile instantly curved Shao Ke's previously cold face.
Exasperated by his lack of sense, the old man furiously fanned himself, urging himself to calm down. "Shallow! Vulgar! What good can come of being obsessed with appearances? Once you're old and your looks fade, everyone's the same. A face full of wrinkles, grinding your teeth and snoring in your sleep..."
"Want to bet