Zhuma's Waist Is Not Good, He Lied to Me

At a family gathering, the elders made me and my brother next door, Cheng Che, have a drink together. I dug my toes into the ground in embarrassment, but he naturally put his arms around me, raised his head and drank it all, smiling at me with lowered eyes: "When you were a kid, you were clamoring to marry me, but now you blush after a glass of wine?" That night, I was so angry that I went into his room to argue, but he pushed me against the door with his backhand. "Brother," I pretended to be calm, "can't you afford it?" He chuckled, his breath reddening the tips of my ears: "You call me so sweet... Do you remind me to fulfill my obligations as a 'childhood sweetheart'?" Since then, he has always talked about being "old" and having a "bad waist". I believed it to be true, until one time I was held down and tortured by him until dawn... I kicked him in anger: "Who said last night that my waist was not good! Who held me down and refused to let me go?!" He rubbed his waist and smiled like a naughty cat: "Good boy, my waist is not good... But my little green plum is too sweet."