"And another thing," Yang Chuxia poked Ye Zi'an and said, "You're not even an adult yourself, and you dare to complain that I'm too young?"
Ye Zi'an took her small hand and smiled slightly, "Xiaxia, after the New Year, I'll be fifteen. In our farming families, people can get married at fifteen or sixteen."
When Yang Chuxia heard this, she realized it was true. In Yangshu Village, there were several sons who were only a year or two older than Ye Zi'an and had already married. It seemed that one family would have a child born next year.
With this thought, Yang Chuxia's mood became a bit low, feeling that she was still too young. She kicked the grass under her feet in frustration, and Ye Zi'an laughed when he saw her like this.
Then he held Yang Chuxia's hand and said, "Don't worry, I'll patiently wait for you to grow up. I'm the only child in my family, and no one will urge me to get married. You can take your time growing up."