Du Yehu seemed quite dissatisfied: "I only said it because you asked me."
"Such a stubborn mouth." Du Ruhui shifted his gaze from the military book, fixing it on Du Yehu's face: "It seems your injury is all but healed!"
"Not fully, but close enough." Du Yehu stiffened his neck: "If you want to beat me with the military stick, then go ahead."
Du Ruhui pointed a finger at him: "You, oh you, a mere brute! When will you ever mature a little!"
His words carried a certain closeness, a kind of elder's concern.
If it were Lin Zhengren, he might immediately kneel and call him grandfather.
But Du Yehu just stood there silently.
This was where he was lacking compared to Lin Zhengren, but also where he was more admirable than Lin Zhengren.
Indeed, Du Ruhui would never completely trust anyone.
But a straightforward man, with his emotions written plainly on his face, is naturally less guarded.
