Wen Shuang had no memory related to Tang Weisheng and could only keep silent.
Tang Weisheng was not angered by this. Instead, he walked to the sink and began washing his hands at an unhurried pace. He scrubbed hard enough to redden his originally fair skin, as if something unbearably filthy was clinging to it.
Wen Shuang edged closer to the door. He had barely moved when Tang Weisheng, as though he had eyes in the back of his head, said, "Sure enough, things are different once you've latched onto Xuan Zhe." The sound of running water stopped. Tang Weisheng turned around with a faintly cold smile. "Xuan Zhe has always thought highly of himself. Why would he ever take a liking to you?"
The last sentence was especially sincere, its contempt and disdain striking Wen Shuang right in the face. Rarely stung, Little Quail immediately puffed up his wings and lifted his chin in retort. "If he doesn't like me, should he like you?" After a pause, he added, "You're not as cute as I am."
Tang Weisheng: "..."
After a moment, Tang Weisheng nodded and walked toward Wen Shuang. He backed him into a corner, his entire body exuding an indescribable wickedness. Wen Shuang's eyes were clear, as though they could see through that outward façade to the dark, struggling soul beneath it. With the distance between them closing, the atmosphere suddenly turned ambiguous. Tang Weisheng truly was Xuan Zhe's younger brother. Though they were not born of the same mother, ordinary people found it difficult to resist when he gave off those hormones. His lips were crimson, ripples stirring in his eyes as he fixed Wen Shuang in his gaze and said in a low voice, "Do you still remember..."
"Achoo!" Wen Shuang's sneeze shattered the suggestive