"Little Sun, do you want to hear those stories again?" Old Zhao had also recognized the man before him. Although the other had a bit of stubble, he was still easily identifiable.
"Yes! Old Zhao, last time you told me about your time on the battlefield..." Little Sun asked softly, knowing that it was rude to disturb others during their meal. Nevertheless, to secure a seat opposite Old Zhao, he had to use all his charm to persuade the neighboring diners to give up their spot.
Liu Sang found the old-young pair quite amusing. Little Sun was actually already in his thirties. Liu Sang himself addressed him as Brother Sun. However, to ninety-two-year-old Zhao, Brother Sun was indeed a junior.
Brother Sun was also a writer, with a particular fondness for penning novels about war. As for ninety-two-year-old Old Zhao, having lived through that era of warfare, still had a piece of shrapnel lodged in his skull.
