Chapter 97: Throw It Out

Wen Jiang watched Wen Tianlu for a moment and judged that the other was making a “suggestion.”

It wasn’t particularly pleasant in content, but it carried no mockery or sarcasm emotionally—its starting point was genuinely somewhat considerate of him.

If he agreed, he could set off and leave right now. As for what came after… who knew? He could probably enjoy some peace and quiet for a while; Wen Tianlu wouldn’t let anyone from the Wen Family call him back the moment he walked out the front door.

Certain classic soap opera plots about ordinary people marrying into wealthy families came to Wen Jiang’s mind. In the early stages, the main resistance often came from the rich heir himself; once the leads were united in heart, the obstacles shifted to the heir’s eighteen relatives.

Those relatives’ reasons for interference were mostly “for the heir’s own good.” They couldn’t beat or scold the heir directly, so they targeted the commoner instead. In dreamy versions, they offered money deals; in abusive love styles, they harmed the family; for sensational twists, they broke legs or framed for prison. The commoner took the fall, served five years, got out, wandered the streets homeless, and bumped into the heir’s luxury car.

By comparison, just interfering with homework truly counted as mild.

The task Wen Ruoyue had proposed was ostensibly for Wen Jiang to play the role of the perfect image in Wen Tianlu’s heart, but its essential purpose was to use this to regulate her brother’s Supernatural Ability—which naturally included soothing and pleasing him through that image.

It aligned with the initial conditioning plan envisioned by the Xie Family’s doctors.

She probably hadn’t thought deeply about how Wen Tianlu and Wen Jiang would carry out today’s “homework,” nor did she have much interest in prying into their privacy. This was more like an unthinking “default assumption,” based purely on status and past experience: inferiors always pleased superiors, actors always pleased audiences.

Wen Tianlu might be the only one in the Wen Family who didn’t think that way. Out of some troublesome emotions he himself didn’t want to dwell on, he had given Wen Jiang a chance to escape those impressions.

On top of that, doing so also meant casting aside his own dire situation.

Should Wen Jiang be moved by this?

Summoning someone over on his own whim, then unilaterally offering a “concession” to send them away on his own whim—after all that back-and-forth hassle, it created an atmosphere where he could thank Wen Tianlu. These people really were alike.

Even the “process of change” was similar. Lin Xun only reined in his behavior after stumbling hard; Jiang Hehu only improved his attitude after a blunt scolding. And Wen Tianlu becoming an exception at the Wen Residence stemmed largely from the fact that he’d already suffered at Wen Jiang’s hands.

Wen Jiang looked at Wen Tianlu coldly and finally spoke: “Wrong.”

This response was beyond Wen Tianlu’s expectations. He paused, then instinctively asked: “What do you mean?”

But Wen Jiang had already lowered his gaze, offering no further explanation. He closed the book, picked up a wooden cylindrical building block from the coffee table.

“…You really choosing this?” Wen Jiang’s action amounted to rejecting his proposal. Wen Tianlu paused for a few seconds, frowned lightly, and was about to say more. “Then I—”

Thud. Wen Jiang tossed the block from his hand. It landed on the floor nearby with a soft sound—not loud at all, yet it abruptly cut Wen Tianlu off.

“…”

Wen Jiang had arrived in the afternoon; now the sky outside had darkened. Soon, the garden lights would come on. Of course, drawing the curtains and turning off the living room lights could still create an environment unfavorable to Wen Tianlu, but Wen Jiang seemed uninterested in piling on that pressure.

The overhead lights remained as bright as daylight—no darkness, no bets. Wen Jiang returned to his unfinished book and simply said: “Pick it up.”

Wen Tianlu’s hand clenched into a fist on the table in an instant.

This attitude was far more dismissive than at the Gaotian Theater, infuriating to the point of making his teeth itch. True, Wen Tianlu’s Supernatural Ability was currently under control, allowing him to exert less than a tenth of his normal strength. But his mind was perfectly clear now, and at worst, he had the physical advantages from long-term training. Striking like a snake from the grass to bite Wen Jiang wasn’t impossible.

Wen Tianlu stared lazily at Wen Jiang, his gaze sticking to the other’s face like a tangible thing, but Wen Jiang ignored it completely.

A moment later, Wen Tianlu silently rose from his chair and walked toward the block. The family doctor had given him this building block set as a toy to relieve boredom and stabilize his emotions.

Wen Tianlu had scoffed at it, mocking the doctor’s incompetence without holding back. The doctor had apologized in terror. Now, he loomed over it silently for a moment, then bent down and picked up the block.

He walked to Wen Jiang’s side, a faint smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes, and held the block right in front of him: “Here.”

He even remembered to bend down while offering it.

Wen Jiang glanced at it, then disinterestedly looked away: “Throw it again.”

Wen Tianlu’s smile froze: “…What.”

Wen Jiang didn’t look at him anymore, casually picking a direction straight toward the bathroom: “Throw it there.”

Wen Tianlu’s grip tightened on the block, his fingertips turning white. When Wen Jiang wasn’t looking, he grew visibly restless, like a beast crouched on the ground, ready to explode at any moment—a clear sign of his unstable Supernatural Ability.

Compared to usual, the current Wen Tianlu was even worse at hiding his emotions. This loss of control, this easily readable vulnerability, only amplified the irritation bubbling in his heart.

Wen Jiang turned his head and finally met his eyes, silently questioning why he hadn’t moved yet. The prickly sharpness in Wen Tianlu’s demeanor vanished abruptly. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he straightened up, forcing a smile at the corner of his mouth: “Fine.”

He turned and tossed the block forward. It hit the ground, spun twice, and stopped in front of the bathroom door.

Wen Jiang said: “Pick it up.”

Wen Tianlu walked over, picked up the block he’d thrown himself, showed it to Wen Jiang, and heard once more: “Throw it.”

“…”

After a moment of silence, Wen Tianlu tossed the block again.

They repeated this several times like that—making Wen Tianlu pace back and forth in the room, throwing the block himself and picking it up himself. To any bystander, it looked utterly stupid. Wen Tianlu’s breathing gradually quickened—not from exertion; this level of movement was nothing to an S-Grade from the Combat System. He could keep throwing for two more hours without breaking a sweat.

Even when throwing a frisbee for a dog, at least the one throwing is the owner, right?

Sullenly grumbling inwardly, Wen Tianlu kept a straight face on the surface, but each throw gained force, his gaze growing icier with every one. He threw too hard this time—the block banged against the bathroom door, leaving a small dent.

The recoil shot the block back toward Wen Tianlu. It spun across the floor toward Wen Jiang’s feet. Just before it touched his toes, Wen Tianlu stepped on it. With a faint crack, the block’s motion halted. He bent down and picked it up.

Wen Jiang turned a page in his book as a reminder—talking all the time was tiring; he couldn’t even be bothered to say “throw” again.

Wen Tianlu naturally got the message. Face dark, he turned back. Fine cracks had appeared on the block, but it hadn’t split in half. This time, he avoided the previous mistake; the block stopped at the wall.

As Wen Tianlu went to pick it up, Wen Jiang stood as well.

Without a word, he walked past Wen Tianlu toward the bathroom. Wen Tianlu froze for a second, then instinctively followed—like a repeat of the Gaotian Theater.

Wen Jiang opened the bathroom door. The bathtub was filled with water. He sat on the edge, dipped his hand in to test the temperature, and judged: “Your Supernatural Ability is leaking.”

The more agitated an ability user’s emotions, the weaker their control over their power. For Wen Tianlu, the most direct manifestation was temperature. Compared to when Wen Jiang had first entered, the room was noticeably cooler now.

After arriving, Wen Jiang had wandered the room alone. While checking the bathroom, he’d filled the tub with scalding hot water. Without Wen Tianlu’s Supernatural Ability interfering, it should still be warm now—at worst, room temperature. Not this definitively icy chill.

Wen Jiang reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. The instant Wen Tianlu saw it, his pupils contracted instinctively.

Past and present overlapped. He hadn’t noticed in the dim theater then, but under the lights now, Wen Tianlu could clearly see the hand holding the silver coin.

Pale fingertips, clean nails, healthy red on the pads. Wen Jiang tossed it lightly. With a plop, the coin sank to the bottom.

“Pick it up,” Wen Jiang said coldly.

The coin had landed precisely at the deepest part of the tub, right against the edge—impossible to retrieve with any grace. Wen Tianlu curled his lips and said in a slow, soft drawl: “…Fine.”

He half-squatted in front of the tub, stretched his arm to reach the coin at the bottom. As his hand entered the water, he inwardly winced.

Too cold. Wen Jiang must’ve found it uncomfortable when he tested it earlier.

…Tch.

Wen Tianlu found this thought of his ridiculous, yet it faintly triggered a sense of crisis. Was Wen Jiang making him do this just to feel how his own power was cooling the water?

Some childhood education emphasized the troubles and harms of runaway powers on those around you, using morality and empathy to urge ability users to control their gifts. Clearly, that didn’t apply to him.

So this was—

A sudden pressure came from above. Without warning, Wen Tianlu’s face hit the water surface. Splashing water roared as the bathroom light flicked off. Wen Jiang had brutally shoved his entire head underwater.