“Oh, please stop asking.” Slightly embarrassed, Yun Shishi tried to gloss over the explanation for such behavior.
Just when she thought that this was the end of it, Little Yichen’s face showed a more confounded look.
“Why can’t I ask?”
Youyou suddenly put down the utensils in his hands and flicked his brother’s forehead with his fingertip. “You fool, what daddy and mommy did is called kissing. Kissing! Geddit?”
“Oh! That’s kissing; I got it now!” The boy slapped his head. “I saw that on TV before. They were kissing, huh. I get it now!”
The younger twin eyed at the older twin dully, thinking inside that the latter was stupid beyond help.
Mu Yazhe glared disdainfully at his older son, too.
No comparison, no harm done.
Compared to the younger boy, the older kid’s intelligence was hardly worth mentioning.
There was a way to describe folks like that: Simple-minded brawn.
Yichen was a rare genius when it came to military affairs. He could accurately dismantle a Desert Eagle down to its last component with his eyes closed in ten seconds, but he could not solve a simple math problem in the same timeframe.
His two sons were the rarest of the rare.
This was especially for the younger twin with his black-bellied tendency.
His unscrupulous nature was exceptional among those of the same age; others could never be sure what he was plotting behind their backs while wearing his signature smile.
It was hard to pinpoint whom he had inherited his logic-defying IQ and EQ.
A Chinese idiom likened this phenomenon of the next generation excelling the previous one to Yangtze river’s relentless waves.
The younger son was out to get his old man dead on the Yangtze banks…
“I’m full.”
Youyou put down his cutlery and rubbed his full tummy with much satisfaction.
He felt full from eating too much tonight.
His brother followed suit. He, too, had too much for dinner; this was especially when his mother deshelled the crab meat and nicely drizzled sauce over it.
The food was simply too tempting for him. As a result, his stomach got bloated from holding too much food.
Both started to feel sleepy after having such a sumptuous meal.
Clearly, their energy was spent from a day of activities since afternoon until just before dinner.
Youyou was especially tired; he could not keep his eyelids from shutting after a few audible yawns.
The mother eyed her two sons and pinched their cheeks, asking, “Sleepy?”
“Eh.” The older kid leaned against his chair as he leisurely enjoyed the sea breeze.
He wished he could drift into dreamland right now.
“Mommy, Youyou is sleepy now. Mommy will sleep with Youyou, okay?” Her son tugged at her sleeve and asked petulantly.
He enjoyed listening to her telling him a bedtime story before sleep.
To him, it was the happiest thing to drift off while listening to her gentle voice.
“You can’t.” His father immediately objected.
His older brother protested straightaway, too. “You can’t! You can’t!”
This time around, the father and son were on the same side.
Youyou stared at them glumly and pouted his little pink lips. “Why? Why can’t I?”
“You’re already seven and too old to sleep with mommy. Shame on you!” his brother accused.
“I’ve always slept with mommy,” he refuted indignantly.
“I don’t care. Anyway, I object to you sleeping with mommy!” His brother was wide awake by then. With his arms akimbo, he started to argue with his twin.
“On what grounds are you objecting to this? If mommy doesn’t sleep with me, is she going to sleep with you, then?” He gave him a spiteful look.
His brother crossed his arms proudly, nodding. “Of course! Isn’t this what we have agreed before our game? Whoever wins will sleep with mommy; I won that game today!”