"Do you think I came to discuss with you?" Jiutiao Meijie flipped through Dubian Che's thick notebook.
On the notebook, first a small amount of English, then Spanish, followed by French, and on the most recent pages, chess pieces were drawn with a pencil.
The drawing skills were mediocre, at best resembling something decent.
"What can I do if I go? Other than eating, I'm useless," declared Dubian Che with self-derision.
Seeing his demeanor, Jiutiao Meijie couldn't help but want to laugh. When it reached her lips, it turned into a mocking sneer, "You also know you're good for nothing but eating?"
"So, can I not go?" Dubian Che put down the pen and held both of Jiutiao Meijie's hands in his.
"No."
Dubian Che sighed with a low head, "Alright then."
"Can't you have a little more ambition?" Jiutiao Meijie said coldly, and then mockingly as if finding someone to share the pain, "There will be plenty more of this in the decades to come."
"Is this the price of marrying Meijie?"
