Watching the elevator floor numbers drop, Motan casually punched Yi Dong, easily interrupting his breath.
"Hey, why is it that even though you're more of a homebody than I am, your physical fitness is at least thirty percent better than mine!!"
Yi Dong clutched his side, gasping in pain, and staggered out of the elevator, heading toward his sleek and expensive sports car—a vehicle with a top speed of 600 kilometers per hour which in the country can only operate at one-third power for fear of insane fines, and has been critically reviewed by numerous friends—while grumbling through gritted teeth.
Motan shrugged indifferently, sitting in the passenger seat, said, "If you could also ensure that you spend one-third of your time maintaining a regular routine, sleeping early, waking up early, and doing short morning runs, your physical fitness wouldn't be much worse than mine."
"Forget it, I'd rather let you outpace me in physical fitness than try to match your mental state."
