Because she was sitting on the carpet, she had to crane her neck to look at people—it was too tiring!
And the angle from the sofa was conducive to her looking down on, disdainfully scrutinizing someone.
Looking at the little woman on the sofa with a proud and coquettish face, Han Mo's lips curved into a tender and indulgent arc, then he withdrew his gaze and took a large gulp of the red wine in his hand.
Han Mo took a deep breath, and his low, magnetic voice filled the spacious living room.
"Once upon a time, a fortunate pair of twin boys were born into a loving family. Even though the twin brothers grew up looking less and less alike, it didn't affect the family's love for them in the slightest!"
Twins?
A loving family?
Isn't this the story of Wen Shimo, Wen Shirun, and their brother and Pei Qingyue?
So, the story he's about to tell is his own?
His own story doesn't need a "once upon a time," making it seem like he's been dead for hundreds of years.