"Mo An," a hoarse and low voice escaped from the man's mouth. Mo An was stunned and his expression became nervous.
Isn't it the way of hugging? Or was it that the tone and demeanor of what he said just now were not in place? But he clearly remembered that it was true... He was a little angry.
The man suddenly raised his hand and caressed Mo An's face carefully. His slender white fingers slid over his eyebrows, eyes, nose, and mouth, and finally stopped on Mo An's chin.
He held Mo An's chin and smiled softly. His pale face and his bloodless lips made the smile look very sad.
He said: "Mo An, you are so stupid. Even if your appearance and voice are exactly the same, no matter how much you imitate him, you are still Mo An."
Mo An was stunned for a moment, then bit Mu Qian's finger as if punishing him, and said with a playful smile: "Fool, how can I be my brother? I am Ziyang."