Han Zhan's hand paused mid-stroke, the cloth stilling on the blade. He looked up, a chuckle escaping his lips. "Dage, if you're ugly, then what would that make me? Hideous?"
Han Xin's lips twitched into a faint smile, but it quickly faded. "Someone called me ugly the other day," he said, his tone more serious. "They called me an ugly bastard."
Han Zhan's brow arched. Who in all the realms would have the nerve to call Han Xin ugly? That could only be a lie. "You are neither ugly nor a bastard. They probably just wanted to get under your skin. Humans do that sometimes," he replied but Han Xin glanced at him before asking,
"And what if they had the truth-seeking whip wrapped around them?"
