"Hey, Uncle Fu." Wen Qiao poked Fu Jinghen on the shoulder. "Do you think it's because I've spent so much time with you? I'm only twenty-one, but I feel even more mature than Cheng Jue."
Fu Jinghen gave a hum in response. "Cheng Jue is actually twenty-five but his mental age is more like five."
Wen Qiao: "..."
Thinking about how Cheng Jue had jumped around hugging Fu Jinghen after receiving the birthday present he'd prepared, he really didn't seem like he was twenty-five.
"How about you?" Wen Qiao teased with a smile. "You're actually twenty-eight, but is your mental age eighty-two?"
Fu Jinghen glanced at her lightly. "I'm not twenty-eight yet."
"Almost, almost," Wen Qiao waved her hand dismissively. "It's just a few more months. Round it up."
Fu Jinghen had never felt that his age was a problem, but ever since he fell in love with Wen Qiao, he had begun to pay more attention to this issue.
