Chapter 17: A Rose

The man's voice carried a faint hoarseness soaked in water vapor, and a barely perceptible trace of amusement.

Wen Yinong belatedly came back to herself, and her cheeks instantly flamed red. Although the physical contact at this moment was entirely to save her life—a matter of necessity—the scene before her, the scorching body heat, the skin pressed tight against skin, and the words he had just spoken, were really...

Too intimate.

Especially Mo Shaoshang's eyes, a mere breath away, like two bottomless cold pools, drawing her in like whirlpools, as if one careless moment would drown her in them, beyond all redemption.

Thump, thump.

The heartbeat in her chest had long since spun out of control, pounding madly, nearly breaking past physiological limits, about to leap out of her throat.

That gaze was too aggressive, too dangerous. Wen Yinong didn't dare meet it any longer and hurriedly looked away, her lashes fluttering in disarray. She tried bracing her arms against his chest to pull a small distance between their bodies.

Wen Yinong drew in a breath of cool, damp air, working hard to make her voice sound steadier: "I'm sorry, Mr. Mo, I've troubled you again. The water—the water is a bit deep. Could you please help me up to the edge first?"

At this point she paused, her thick lashes lowered even further, nearly buried against the edge of the towel, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible, carrying a faint tremor: "...The water is so cold."

The instant the words fell, she suddenly felt her body grow light, her feet leaving the ground. After a brief moment of weightlessness, the world spun before her eyes.

Mo Shaoshang had actually lifted her straight up into his arms.

"Ah..." Wen Yinong cried out in surprise. Instinctively, her arms wrapped tighter around his neck, her dripping body practically hanging off him.

Mo Shaoshang didn't say a word. Holding her, he walked step by step out of the cool pool water, up the steps, and onto the poolside.

It was already autumn, and the evening wind carried a penetrating chill.

Wen Yinong was soaked through, dripping from head to toe, her dress clinging to her skin and tracing out every graceful curve.

Now, as the cold wind blew, she shivered faintly all over, her teeth even beginning to chatter softly. Her slender body curled into his embrace almost involuntarily, seeking warmth.

Beside them stood several white lounge chairs for rest, cleaned daily by dedicated staff, spotless as new.

Mo Shaoshang set Wen Yinong down on the lounge chair to the left. Then he took a clean, thick white bath towel, unfolded it, and draped it over her thin shoulders.

The towel was soft and highly absorbent. Wrapped around Wen Yinong's damp, cold skin, it dispelled most of the biting chill in an instant.

She couldn't help pulling it tighter, burying herself snugly inside. As she breathed, she caught a faint and distinctive fragrance on the towel—crisp, clean, carrying a hint of coldness, like rime ice condensed on pine branches in early winter.

She paused slightly.

This scent was exactly the same as the one on Mo Shaoshang.

This was...

His towel?

The realization made Wen Yinong's heart skip, and she instinctively lifted her eyes.

The man wore only a pair of tight black swim trunks, standing bare-chested at the edge of the pool. The cold white moonlight poured over him without reserve. Water droplets rolled continuously down his broad shoulders, chest muscles, and abdomen, coating that firm, powerful musculature in a sheen of light.

The water had dampened the winding black snake tattoo on his chest, adding a few degrees of eerie sensuality.

An intense aura of masculine hormones permeated nearly every inch of the surrounding air—breathtaking, impossible to look at directly.

The blush on Wen Yinong's cheeks deepened instantly, like sunset clouds burning to their extreme. Too embarrassed to look any longer, she hastily averted her eyes, lowered her head, and stared at her own still-dripping toes.

Before long, the rustle of clothing came from behind her.

When she quietly raised her eyes again, Mo Shaoshang had already put on a black silk bathrobe, the belt loosely tied, the collar slightly open. The overly dazzling body was covered, but the sense of pressure hadn't diminished in the slightest.

Wen Yinong bit her lip. By now she had somewhat recovered from the shock of falling into the water.

She raised a hand, gathered the towel around herself, and stammered: "Then... I won't disturb you any further. I'll take my leave."

With that, she prepared to get up and flee this mortifying little corner of the world.

Hearing this, Mo Shaoshang lowered his eyes, his gaze sweeping over her soaked body and trembling lips, and spoke evenly: "The night air is cold. If you walk back like this, you'll easily catch a chill."

Hearing this, Wen Yinong felt even more embarrassed and vexed. Of course she knew going back like this would surely give her a cold, but if she didn't go back, was she supposed to stay here and keep making a fool of herself?

Though depressed inside, she still forced a nonchalant smile and said, "It's fine. It's not far. I'll just walk quickly."

Heaven knew, all she wanted right now was to immediately take a hot shower and change into dry clothes.

"There's a shower room next to the pool," Mo Shaoshang said concisely, offering a new solution.

A shower room?

Wen Yinong's eyes lit up instantly. If she could take a hot shower right here and warm up, that would of course be wonderful...

But on second thought, she hesitated again, frowning as she said softly, "But my change of clothes is all in my room..." She couldn't very well shower and then put these wet clothes back on to walk home, could she?

Mo Shaoshang said indifferently, "Have Auntie Zhang bring them to you."

That would work.

Wen Yinong found it feasible and immediately broke into a smile, replying, "All right. Then please trouble yourself to tell Auntie Zhang that my loungewear is on the bed—the off-white set. And please also ask her to bring a knit cardigan. Thank you."

Having given these instructions, she turned her head and looked around, but saw no sign of anything like a shower room, so she had to ask, "Excuse me, where is the shower room?"

"Follow me." With that, Mo Shaoshang turned and walked toward the other side of the pool.

Wen Yinong understood, wrapped the towel tight, and quickly followed.

Before long, the two figures, one ahead and one behind, entered a simply styled white building.

Mo Shaoshang casually flicked the switch, and the room instantly flooded with light, soft illumination dispersing the darkness.

Looking around, she found the space extremely spacious, with quite a sense of design.

Calling it a shower room, it was actually more like an exquisite private suite. The entrance held a tidy vanity area, its gleaming counter stocked with all kinds of toiletries. Further in was a separate shower stall partitioned by frosted glass, and deeper still was a small lounge area furnished with an armchair and a coffee table.

The most striking feature was the enormous floor-to-ceiling window.

Beyond it, the night-time garden landscape lay in full view. Beside the window stood several distinctively shaped, sleek-lined leather Barcelona chairs. The whole space was impeccably styled, understated yet luxurious.

As Wen Yinong observed the surroundings, a trace of worry couldn't help rising in her heart: this shower room was right beside the pool. Though it looked fairly private... what if, while she was bathing, other staff from the estate came over?

Just then, Mo Shaoshang, walking ahead, seemed to see straight through her thoughts. His steps didn't pause, his head didn't turn; he only spoke indifferently, his voice cool yet gentle in the spacious room: "This place is for my use only. Without my permission, no one else will come in. Teacher Wen can rest assured."

"..." Having her little worry exposed, Wen Yinong felt slightly embarrassed and quickly nodded. "All right. Then please pass along the message to Auntie Zhang to bring my clothes."

"Mm," Mo Shaoshang answered.

Wen Yinong said no more and quickly walked into the shower room, closing the door behind her.

Inside, the heating system seemed to have been on for a while, driving away the lingering chill around her.

She leaned against the door and let out a long breath; her taut nerves finally found a moment of release.

Shedding her soaked clothes, Wen Yinong turned on the showerhead. As the warm water cascaded down and enveloped her cold skin, comfort soaked into every nerve.

She tilted her head back, letting the hot water wash over her face.

No longer dwelling on that chaotic, ambiguous, heart-flustering scene from moments ago.

*

Outside the bathroom.

Mo Shaoshang walked to the landline in the lounge area, picked up the receiver, and dialed a number.

Inside the bathroom, steam quickly rose and spread, filling the whole space, a layer of white mist condensing on the mirror. The pattering sound of water surrounded her ears, forming a sealed, safe space, all outside sounds shut out.

Wen Yinong washed carefully in the hot water, her limbs gradually warming.

A few minutes later, she turned off the showerhead, rinsed the foam from her hair and body, then took a clean, fluffy white towel, dried herself, wrapped it around her, and walked to the sink.

The mirror was fogged over. She reached out and wiped it, and then saw the face reflected there: unadorned, gentle, carrying the liveliness of fresh bathing, cheeks rosy, the corners of her eyes slightly damp, her lips redder than usual—a complexion as vivid as peach blossoms, naturally tinged with three parts allure.

Looking at herself in the mirror, somehow Wen Yinong's brain again refused to obey, conjuring up scene after scene from not long ago—the man bursting out of the water like a wild leopard, his figure tall and upright, full of power and beauty. Water droplets rolling down his sensual muscle lines, that firm, taut abdomen, that narrow, powerful waist and hips—every contour just right, brimming with a primitive, dangerous attraction.

Her fingertips even still remembered the temperature of his chest and arms, and the feel of that solid, hard muscle...

Within a few short seconds, Wen Yinong's senses returned. Her face burned hotter. She hastily shook her head hard, covered her scalding cheeks, and forced herself to cast aside all romantic thoughts.

Just then, the bathroom door was gently knocked from outside.

Knock, knock.

Wen Yinong steadied herself, cleared her throat, and with a trace of puzzlement and wariness asked, "Who is it?"

A gentle, pleasant female voice came from outside, answering, "Teacher Wen, the clothes you asked for have been brought."

It was Auntie Zhang's voice.

Wen Yinong quietly sighed in relief, her lifted heart settling back into place. She walked over and opened the bathroom door a crack.

Auntie Zhang's face wore a smile. In her hands she held the neatly folded off-white loungewear and a light gray knit cardigan, passing them in together.

"Thank you so much, Auntie Zhang, really, thank you." Wen Yinong took the clothes and thanked her repeatedly, her tone full of gratitude.

"You're welcome," Auntie Zhang said with a smile. After a half-second pause, she asked, "Is there anything else you need me to do?"

Wen Yinong hurriedly shook her head. "No, nothing."

"All right. Let me know anytime if you need anything." With that, Auntie Zhang turned and left.

Clothes in hand, Wen Yinong immediately dressed at top speed.

The dry, soft cotton fabric against her skin brought an unprecedented sense of security. She picked up the hair dryer, carefully dried her soaking long hair, and combed it smooth.

Having tidied herself, Wen Yinong conveniently folded the used towel neatly and placed it in the designated laundry basket. After all that, she inspected the bathroom once more, making sure everything she had used was properly put away, leaving no personal trace, and only then smoothed the slightly wrinkled corner of her clothes and opened the door to go out.

She gently closed the door behind her, turned around, and raised her eyes.

Through the enormous floor-to-ceiling window, the autumn moon's clear radiance flowed silently in, spreading a limpid sheet of frost-light across the floor.

Beyond the window were the silent night sky and blurred tree shadows.

And on the Barcelona chair before the window sat a person, quietly.

Mo Shaoshang seemed to have already showered and changed into a black silk shirt, the buttons loosely fastened, a small patch of cold-white chest skin faintly visible. His black short hair no longer dripped, soft and slightly damp, falling casually over his forehead.

He sat there, his posture relaxed yet noble, two long legs crossed casually, a few books by his hand, his gaze lost in the boundless night beyond the window.

The whole scene was like a frozen frame of film—cold and austere, tranquil, aloof, and carrying an indescribable loneliness.

Wen Yinong was surprised.

Why was he still here? She had assumed he'd long since gone back.

At the same moment, hearing the faint sound of the bathroom door opening, Mo Shaoshang turned his head slightly, his gaze shifting from the window back onto Wen Yinong.

In his view, the freshly bathed girl had shed her earlier drenched, bedraggled state, like a pearl washed clean by clear water.

Without a trace of makeup, pure as water, yet softer and more beautiful than any carefully applied cosmetics. The slightly upturned corners of her eyes were the finishing touch, endowing her with a natural charm, like a jasmine soaked in sweet spring water—alluring without knowing it.

Moonlight and lamplight flowed quietly. Their eyes met.

Mo Shaoshang didn't speak, only watched her in silence, his gaze deep, calm, carrying an inquisitive quality, and seemingly something else hidden beneath.

After a few seconds of surprise, Wen Yinong's long lashes trembled slightly as she came back to herself.

Somewhat uncomfortable under his stare, she instinctively avoided his gaze and asked softly, "Mr. Mo, did you have something else to discuss with me?"

Otherwise, why would he deliberately wait here for her?

Mo Shaoshang spoke indifferently, his expression as usual: "I'm not sleepy. I'd like to chat with Teacher Wen for a while." As he spoke, he paused, his tone turning gentlemanly and gentle, with an inquiring note. "I wonder if it's convenient for Teacher Wen."

Wen Yinong instinctively glanced at the wall clock.

The hands showed just past nine.

All right, not too late.

"It's convenient enough for me," she answered, while her thoughts raced: perfect—she could take this opportunity to properly discuss with him the sudden incident during Eric's lesson this afternoon.

Mo Shaoshang's lips curved very faintly, the arc nearly imperceptible. He raised a hand to gesture at the other armchair beside him: "Please, sit."

Wen Yinong complied, walking over and sitting down beside him, her posture somewhat reserved.

After a moment's deliberation, she took a deep breath. Feeling that cutting straight to the point would be too abrupt, she casually found a topic as an opener, trying to lighten the mood: "Does Mr. Mo really like swimming?"

"Occasionally," Mo Shaoshang answered. "Daily exercise is my habit."

"Oh." Wen Yinong nodded, then asked offhandedly, working to keep the conversation going, "Then besides swimming, what other sports do you like?"

"Combat, rock climbing, equestrian," he listed, his tone flat, as if remarking that the moonlight was nice tonight. "All of them are fine."

No wonder his physique was so exceptional.

Wen Yinong thought quietly.

The two of them chatted idly for a few sentences, all painless topics. Seeing the timing was about right, Wen Yinong cleared her throat and began trying to steer the conversation onto the proper track.

Her expression turned a few degrees more serious, her sitting posture more upright, as she began: "Um... Mr. Mo, there's something I need to report to you. This afternoon, during his language intervention session, Eric had an emotional breakdown. It lasted about ten minutes."

Here she paused for a breath, seemingly giving Mo Shaoshang a bit of time to digest the information, but without waiting for his response, she quickly added in a reassuring tone, "But please rest assured, I intervened promptly during the process. He caused no actual harm to himself or his surroundings. I also soothed his emotions afterward."

After hearing her out, Mo Shaoshang's expression didn't change much; it remained calm as still water. He only said indifferently, "I know."

Wen Yinong froze for a moment, then realized.

Eric was a special-needs child. Although a professional caregiver attended meticulously to his daily life, to guarantee the child's absolute safety, surveillance systems were installed in his bedroom, play area, and every venue where intervention and rehabilitation sessions took place.

As the child's guardian and employer, it was perfectly normal for Mo Shaoshang to review the footage to understand the situation.

Wen Yinong guessed he had probably already watched part of the recording of the afternoon session.

She thought for a moment, then continued: "I'm reporting this to you not to create anxiety or pass on any negativity. Please understand that reflecting the children's real situations and the challenges they encounter during intervention to their parents, promptly and accurately, is our professional obligation and responsibility."

Mo Shaoshang looked at her and said, "I know."

"Actually, over this period, Eric has been improving overall—there are many small bright spots." Wen Yinong's volume rose a few notches, her tone turning positive. "This afternoon's incident was perhaps just an accident, a small bump on our road of intervention. We face it, analyze the cause, find a solution. There's no need to magnify it excessively."

"Mm," he responded, indicating he was listening.

"So, please continue to have faith in Eric," Wen Yinong looked at him, her gaze clear and firm, "and please continue to have faith in me."

Hearing this, the corner of Mo Shaoshang's mouth curved very faintly. "Of course."

After that, Wen Yinong discussed with Mo Shaoshang some more of Eric's recent specific behaviors and rehabilitation progress, including both his improvements and remaining challenges.

And so, one narrating and one listening, time flowed slowly in the tranquil atmosphere.

"Through deeper contact during this period, I've found that Eric is very interested in car toys. That's actually an excellent entry point for teaching."

Moving to relatively relaxed and fun topics, Wen Yinong's expression also loosened. Recalling some of Eric's mischievous yet adorable moments in class, she couldn't help laughing, and suddenly remembering something, she added enthusiastically, "Do you know? Once during a cognitive lesson, I wore a top printed with little flower patterns. He actually looked at the pattern on my clothes and made a syllable resembling 'flower.'"

Mo Shaoshang's gaze never wavered, fixed on the girl before him.

At this moment, Wen Yinong's smile was bright and sincere, light shining in the depths of her eyes, glittering, as if studded with the myriad stars of a summer night sky—utterly infectious.

After hearing her, Mo Shaoshang raised an eyebrow slightly, seemingly showing some concrete interest in this incident: "And then?"

"Then of course I had to seize the opportunity." Wen Yinong smiled radiantly, narrating vividly, "I immediately fetched many flashcards of different kinds of flowers and pointed them out to him one by one... I wanted him to be exposed to richer vocabulary and imagery."

Hearing this, Mo Shaoshang lowered his eyelids, his gaze condensing for an instant, then returning to normal. He raised his eyes, his expression restored, and asked as if casually, offhandedly: "Did Eric recognize those flowers?"

Wen Yinong shook her head, her lips curving: "Those categories are still too fine-grained for Eric at his current stage—somewhat difficult. My main purpose in showing him all kinds of flower images was to give him more diverse visual stimulation, which positively supports the development and connection of the neural networks in his brain."

As her words fell, the room suddenly went quiet.

Only the faint wind outside the window could dimly be heard.

After a moment, Wen Yinong pulled herself out of her own thoughts and realized she seemed to have talked too much, nearly turning this chat into a personal teaching seminar. She immediately felt embarrassed.

Her cheeks heated as she apologized in a low voice: "I'm sorry, Mr. Mo. I was supposed to be keeping you company in conversation, but I ended up chattering on and on for most of the time, wasting your time..."

Mo Shaoshang: "For me, listening to you speak is a pleasure."

Wen Yinong: "..."

Wen Yinong froze, staring at him blankly with wide eyes, as if she hadn't understood what he meant.

Mo Shaoshang watched the subtle changes in her expression and said evenly, "Your voice is very pleasant. Your expressions when you speak are lively, varied, adorable. I like listening to Teacher Wen talk."

The moment his words landed, Wen Yinong's face flushed scarlet with a whoosh.

The red glow spread from her cheeks all the way to her ears and neck. In the blink of an eye, her whole head had become a thoroughly ripe tomato.

In her memory, this man had already more than once praised her so unabashedly, so bluntly and explicitly.

Was it a difference in cultural background? Mo Shaoshang as a person always appeared restrained and courteous on the surface, noble and elegant, observing the strictest etiquette.

Yet at his core he was quite direct, frank—even somewhat explicit—with no concept whatsoever of "indirectness and tact"...

Thump, thump, thump.

Her heartbeat grew faster and faster, louder and louder, nearly bursting through her chest.

For no reason, Wen Yinong felt the surrounding air seemed to have warmed several degrees, baking her skin until it was hot and dry, numb and itchy, as if countless invisible little insects were crawling over her.

Her peripheral vision unconsciously swept the clock again.

The hour hand was already pointing at "10."

Finally, a perfectly reasonable excuse to escape.

"Um." To hide her inner fluster, Wen Yinong cleared her throat and spoke as if nothing were amiss. "It's already ten o'clock."

As she spoke, she stood up somewhat hastily, forcing composure even as her face burned: "It's too late, so I won't disturb your rest any longer, Mr. Mo. Thank you again for your help tonight. Goodbye."

Before the words had fully fallen, she had already turned and walked toward the door.

Mo Shaoshang quietly watched that slender, petite figure retreat without a sound. He saw her barely manage to maintain her composure at first, her pace neither hurried nor slow—but the moment she stepped out of the building's main door,

upon contact with the free air outside, she immediately quickened her steps, breaking into a little rabbit-like run.

Rounding the pool, she vanished into the depths of the night in a flash, gone without a trace.

Mo Shaoshang picked up the water glass on the table and took a light sip, the expression between his brows gradually becoming intriguing.

*

Wen Yinong jogged all the way back to her bedroom, shut the door, and only then dared to breathe deeply.

Her heart still pounded wildly, and the heat on her cheeks refused to fade for a long time.

Lying back on the bed, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

Staring at the pitch-black ceiling, her mind replayed over and over the heart-stopping moment by the pool, the intimacy of skin touching skin, the cold rime-frost fragrance on the towel, the lonely silhouette of Mo Shaoshang sitting quietly under the moon outside the shower room, and his blunt words that made her blush and her heart race...

All the images and sounds wove together, stirring Wen Yinong's heart into turmoil.

She stayed awake until the small hours before finally drifting into a dazed sleep.

Once asleep, bizarre dreams came one after another.

In a haze of confusion, she was back at that coldly gleaming pool. She struggled helplessly in the water, the suffocating feeling coiling around her throat like vines. Just one second before her consciousness blurred, a pair of powerful arms caught her and once again hauled her violently out of the water, bringing a moment of breath.

But soon, the pool space began to twist and warp. The background shifted, becoming Wen Yinong's bedroom in the Mo estate.

She lay on the bed, deep in peaceful slumber.

A large, well-defined hand, tinged with coolness, gently stroked the tips of her hair. Fingertips wove through the soft strands, bringing a faintly itchy tremor, wrapped in an almost reverent slowness and a heart-trembling tenderness.

From the crown of her head, slowly downward. Gliding slowly past the corners of her eyes, lingering on her smooth cheeks, her neck, the contours of her ears, even kneading the soft flesh of her earlobes...

As if caressing a rare treasure of the world, cherishing it to the bone, unable to let go.

The thinly callused fingertips felt rough, forming a stark contrast with her delicate skin.

Wen Yinong felt itchy in her sleep and stirred restlessly, her eyelids blearily opening.

In the dim light, a cold, sharply contoured face crashed into her vision.

Wen Yinong's heart seized with horror. Before she had time for surprise or questions, the handsome face before her suddenly began to change—his skin turned cold and smooth, his features blurring and elongating in an instant. Finally, his entire body transformed into a pure white venomous python.

The great serpent raised its head, its cold vertical pupils locking dead onto her.

Wen Yinong was petrified, every drop of blood in her body freezing. She immediately tried to get out of bed and flee for her life. But the white viper's thick tail coiled around her with lightning speed, tightening, binding her body fast.

She struggled desperately, but to no avail. The tremendous constricting force made her breathing grow ever more difficult.

In the end, in extreme terror, she watched helplessly as the white python opened its gaping maw, bared its sharp fangs, and lunged to devour her—

Thud!

A muffled sound, accompanied by a short cry of alarm.

Wen Yinong tumbled straight off the bed in fright and crashed heavily onto the floor.

The pain in her bottom and arm woke her instantly.

Wen Yinong sucked in a cold breath, clutched her bumped forehead, and scrambled up from the floor, grimacing. She looked left, looked right.

Outside the window, day had fully broken, sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains. The bedroom was utterly empty—besides herself, where were any traces of Mo Shaoshang or a white python?

So it was only a dream...

Wen Yinong exhaled as if drained of strength.

Still shaken, she touched her wildly pounding chest, sat by the bed, and took several deep breaths in a row before barely calming her panicked emotions.

She didn't know if it was an illusion.

The fragrance permeating the air seemed subtly different from usual. Besides the estate's customary soft woody scent, there seemed... to be a faint, elusive trace of rime-frost.

Crisp, coldly serene.

Like the scent on that white towel last night.

Wen Yinong rubbed her eyes, attributing it to her just-awakened senses still being muddled from the nightmare, and thought no more of it. After recovering for a while, she prepared to get up and wash.

Passing by a certain spot, she sensed something, and her steps halted.

Turning her head, she actually saw a splash of vivid red on the soft pillow at the head of the bed. Red against green, petals and stamens layered upon layered, tender and dewy. Like a ball of fire, concentrating all vitality, burning.

Unbridled, mad unto death.

"..."

A single...

rose, come from who knows where?