Han Tianci stepped forward and examined the painting closely. The woman in the painting was dressed in brocades, her mother and father by her side, and her beauty was already breathtaking.
But her eyes were cold and clear like water, devoid of the warmth and tenderness of this moment.
That was his sister.
Han Tianci had long understood Feng Wushuang's feelings but still, he looked at Feng Wushuang seriously and asked, "Do you like my sister?"
"Yes!"
Feng Wushuang replied with certainty.
Worried that Han Tianci wouldn't believe him, "I don't know when it started, but she's been constantly on my mind. Maybe at the beginning, it wasn't love but gratitude, but gradually, I found that she's taken up space in my heart, and I can't fit any other girl in there!"
As Feng Wushuang spoke, he looked at the portrait, not hiding the deep affection in his eyes.
"There are many who like my sister. You can't succeed by being so lukewarm!" Han Tianci said indifferently.
