Xun Shijian: Where do you think it is better for us to get married? Las Vegas, Florida, Madagascar, Polynesia. . . . . . .
Congyan: Whatever. . . . . . (You haven't proposed yet? Is that okay?)
Xun Shijian: What kind of wedding do you like? Luxurious and high-end? Or is it low-key and meaningful? Or church style, Republican style, farmhouse style. . . . . .
From Yan:. . . . . . (My thinking is too fast and I can't keep up)
There was suddenly no sound from the other side and it was very quiet. Cong Yan glanced at Xun Shijian weakly and found that Xun Shijian was looking at him with cat-like eyes, as if waiting for his answer. So, Cong Yan pretended to think for a while:
"Well, keep it simple!"
Seven days later, there was a dilapidated cabin with a double bed, a TV, an old sofa, and the sweet tune of Endless Love playing on an old-fashioned gramophone. . . . . .
Cong Yan: This wedding is too simple. . . . . .
Xun Shijian: Didn't you say that you should be simple?
Congyan: Uh-huh. . . . . . Well, that's what I said, but I meant simplicity, but not simplicity.
Xunshi Jian: (looking confused) Which Jian is that?
Cong Yan: (slightly startled) Okay, I was wrong. . . . . .