Chapter 30: Kissing Her Collarbone

Mo Shaoshang spoke in a careless tone, as naturally as if he were discussing the weather, yet it sent a jolt of panic through Wen Yinong's heart, her cheeks and ears burning hot.

"No..." Her lashes fluttered; she lowered her eyes and murmured a defense. "It's nothing like that. I was just asking casually."

Mo Shaoshang sat across the table, continuing to stare directly at Wen Yinong.

In his line of sight, the girl's cheeks were crimson, her earlobes pink, and beneath her lowered lids, her dark, clear eyes were a tangle of fluster and guilt—like a little deer whose tail had accidentally been stepped on.

She quickly stuffed a bite of cake into her mouth, then unconsciously raised a hand to rub her earlobe.

Behind his glasses, Mo Shaoshang's gaze sharpened slightly.

After knowing her for some days, he was already well acquainted with many of her habits.

Rubbing her earlobe was a small habitual gesture of the young woman, one that appeared whenever she was flustered and uneasy.

Clearly, she was very nervous right now.

Because she was trying too hard to cover something up.

Exceedingly cute—it brought a feeling like a feather lightly brushing across his heart.

Without revealing anything, Mo Shaoshang curved his lips faintly and set the silver dinner knife in his hand back on the table. The blade inadvertently tapped the rim of the bone-china plate, producing a soft "ding," faint and crisp.

Wen Yinong's heart instantly grew more panicked.

She could only pick up the juice beside her and take a small sip.

The cool liquid slid down her throat, and the flames kindled by embarrassment inside her finally subsided a little.

A moment later, Wen Yinong finished her juice, her emotions somewhat steadied. Only then did she take a deep breath, clear her throat, and speak with feigned composure: "Sorry, it's too warm in here. My brain might be a bit oxygen-deprived, not thinking clearly..."

She paused, then added, "That question really was a bit presumptuous. Mr. Mo, if it's inconvenient for you to answer, just pretend I never asked anything."

Wen Yinong was, of course, regretting it now.

Yes, she was curious.

Curious about who "Miss Qiao" was, curious about her relationship with Mo Shaoshang.

But curiosity was just curiosity—she had no right to make her employer pay the price for it.

It was far too out of line.

Wen Yinong had originally thought that once she sincerely apologized, the topic of "Miss Qiao" that she had started would end there. She never expected that the next second, the cold, stern man sitting across from her would suddenly speak up and say something like this.

"Old Master Qiao and my grandfather are old friends. Their families share deep ties and a close relationship." Mo Shaoshang casually picked up a napkin and dabbed the corner of his lips, speaking calmly.

This response left Wen Yinong stunned.

She hadn't expected he would actually answer her. Surprised, she instinctively lifted her eyes to look at him.

Mo Shaoshang said, "If my judgment is correct, the 'Miss Qiao' you mentioned should be Qiao Mingyi, Old Master Qiao's granddaughter."

Wen Yinong roughly understood.

Old Master Qiao and Mo Shaoshang's grandfather were good friends, the two families' elders were close, and the children of the two families very likely grew up playing together...

Childhood sweethearts, innocent playmates?

Wen Yinong blinked and said nothing, her imagination involuntarily running wild.

Mo Shaoshang watched her, his blue-black eyes like two stretches of deep sea, and continued, "I have very little personal contact with Miss Qiao. Last time I lent her my business jet, it was only out of consideration for the relationship between our two families' elders."

Meeting those eyes, deep as dusk haze, Wen Yinong's heartbeat abruptly quickened by several beats. After a moment, she pressed her lips together and said softly, "It was a question I shouldn't have asked in the first place. I already told you there's no need to answer. You don't have to explain so much to me."

Mo Shaoshang said, "It's necessary."

Wen Yinong froze, threads of confusion surfacing in her eyes.

Mo Shaoshang held her gaze and added, "I don't want you to misunderstand."

"..."

Sometimes Wen Yinong really wished her skin were a bit thicker.

Otherwise, she wouldn't always be thrown into disarray, face burning red, by just two casually delivered sentences from him.

The sealed cabin was heated; the warmth intensified molecular motion, and the scent of botanical fragrance in the air was steamed ever richer, drifting in wisps into one's nose, making the head swell and grow dazed.

In this subtle, ambiguous atmosphere, Wen Yinong's head was muddled, and for a moment she didn't know how to respond.

Not knowing what to say, she might as well say nothing.

So Wen Yinong curved her lips and forced out a smile. "Mr. Mo, please enjoy your meal. I'm going to the restroom."

With that, she rose to flee.

However, fate seemed determined to play a joke on Wen Yinong.

While she dined, the plane had been as steady as a floating castle, yet precisely at the moment she rose from her seat and passed by Mo Shaoshang's side—as if a giant had stumbled in the clouds—the entire aircraft suddenly lurched downward.

Caught completely off guard, Wen Yinong gave a short cry, staggered a step, and watched the world before her begin to tilt and overturn.

She fell, weightless.

She did not crash into the cold cabin wall, nor tumble onto the carpet.

At that critical instant, her wrist was caught by five long, powerful fingers, and then her whole body was gently pulled by that force, landing in an embrace both warm and cool.

Time seemed stretched by the violent turbulence, every sense magnified infinitely.

The cashmere shawl on her shoulders had slipped to the floor at some point; beneath her evening gown, a large expanse of bare, snow-white back lay exposed to the air, unguarded, pressing against the cold, crisp fabric of the man's suit.

Having been in a warm environment for so long, her skin was hot.

The moment the muscles of her back touched him, Wen Yinong's whole body trembled; she couldn't suppress a shiver.

Then she felt one of the man's arms circle her slender waist, holding her firmly in place, while his other hand cradled the back of her head, his palm warm.

The violent turbulence continued unabated.

Rumbling filled Wen Yinong's eardrums, yet at this very second, within this tiny space, his embrace was the eye of a storm that had whipped up towering waves.

So close...

Too intimate.

She was sitting on this man's lap, imprisoned in his arms in a posture of complete possession.

Her hair was slightly disheveled, her forehead pressed tight against his sharply defined jaw amid the jolts. Her nose nearly brushed his Windsor knot; a crisp, cold scent—faint rime mingled with body heat—enveloped her.

She could feel the taut strength of his arm muscles, and could clearly hear the heartbeat beneath his chest, beat after beat, steady, powerful, and regular.

A stark contrast to her own utterly chaotic heartbeat.

Wen Yinong slowly lifted her face.

Apparently affected by the airflow, the cabin lights flickered bright and dim, casting shifting shadows across the man's deep-set brows and eyes.

Mo Shaoshang's lashes lowered slightly as he watched her with unruffled calm, the depths of his blue-black eyes reflecting her panicked little face.

Turbulence jolt after jolt; the overhead light flashed after flash.

Finally, the next second, it went out completely.

In an instant, the entire space plunged into darkness.

...

This bout of turbulence was only a small interlude in the flight. Within a few minutes, the entire cabin was bright once more.

Power restored.

Once the turbulence had passed, the lead flight attendant immediately hurried to the dining area, her heels soundless on the thick carpet.

She stopped at the entrance of the dining area, pressed the request bell, and waited patiently.

After an unknown length of time, a male voice came from within the dining room—low and casual, revealing not the slightest abnormality: "Come in."

Marry immediately took a deep breath and stepped inside.

"Mr. Mo, Miss Wen." Marry's tone carried apology and reassurance as she smiled. "Please don't worry. The aircraft just encountered sudden turbulence, and the dining room's main lighting circuit had a minor loose connection. We will inspect and repair it immediately once cruising stabilizes. The backup lighting has already been activated. I hope it hasn't caused you too much trouble."

Mo Shaoshang had little reaction to this, merely nodding faintly: "Mm."

Seeing that the big boss had no intention of blaming her, the boulder hanging in Marry's heart finally dropped to the ground. She quietly exhaled, then bent down and silently began clearing the table before the two of them.

As she was clearing, her peripheral vision swept over incidentally.

"Hm?" Marry's eyes widened slightly, her hands pausing. She furrowed her brow lightly and asked with concern, "Miss Wen, why is your face so red? Are you feeling unwell anywhere?"

At those words, the thoroughly red-faced girl before her visibly stiffened. After stammering "I'm fine, thank you for your concern," she stood up, wrapped the cashmere shawl tightly around herself, and hurried toward the end of the corridor.

Entering the restroom, she shut the door, and with a "click," locked it.

Marry watched that alluring, slender figure practically flee in defeat, still somewhat worried.

After a few seconds of deliberation, she turned to look at the man in the main seat, choosing her words with utmost care as she inquired cautiously: "Mr. Mo, is Miss Wen all right? Should we ask Dr. Cheng to come take a look?"

The head BOSS was looking down, browsing the proposal document in his hand.

To Marry's surprise, after hearing her words, her boss actually—unprecedentedly—curved the corner of his mouth and gave a very light laugh, saying, "That probably won't be necessary."

Not long after, Marry finished clearing the plates and withdrew from the dining area.

While getting some water, she happened to run into Linda coming to report on the inspection of the faulty circuit.

"Marry-jie, I've already checked it. It's just a minor loose connection, nothing serious," Linda said.

"Mm, good that there's no problem." Marry put the water glass back in the cabinet, remembered something, and casually instructed, "I just saw Miss Wen's face was very red—it looked a bit like heatstroke. Keep an eye out and observe her later. If she feels any discomfort, go call Dr. Cheng."

"Heatstroke?" Linda scratched her head, muttering with a frown, "That can't be right, in this weather... No matter how hot the cabin heating is, it wouldn't give anyone heatstroke."

Marry said, "I'm just guessing. I'm telling you to stay sharp."

Linda nodded. "Mm, okay, got it."

Looking at this little newcomer, Marry remembered the girl's recent loose tongue and couldn't help lowering her voice, warning her seriously: "Serve prudently. Say what should be said; don't breathe a single word of what shouldn't be said."

Marry's voice grew heavier, the warning in it stronger: "Remember, Mr. Mo is not someone the likes of us can afford to offend."

Seeing the gravity in her eyes, Linda was inwardly startled and immediately nodded like a woodpecker: "Marry-jie, don't worry, I'll definitely watch my words and conduct from now on!"

At that, Marry finally relaxed somewhat. She patted her chest with lingering fear and said, "You have no idea, I was scared to death just now. If we'd upset Miss Wen and Mr. Mo pursued the matter, our entire crew would be in serious trouble."

Linda muttered softly, "Is it really that serious? Is Miss Wen Mr. Mo's official girlfriend or something?"

Marry glared at her.

Linda gave a dry cough and said obediently, "Understood. Watch my words, no wild talk, no wild questions."

"I heard that everyone attending this Nanjin auction is a ceiling-level big shot. Do you know how high the threshold for an event like this is?" Marry switched to a mysterious tone, chatting idly with Linda. "That Mr. Mo can bring Miss Wen along shows exactly how much weight this girl holds in his heart."

Linda thought it over briefly, then nodded. "That's true indeed."

*

Inside the restroom.

Wen Yinong locked the door behind her and leaned her whole body against it, nearly drained of strength.

Her heart pounded like war drums, each beat hammering her eardrums, making her head spin.

She lifted her head and looked at herself in the mirror.

The girl in the mirror had crimson cheeks; her rippling gaze held a pool of spring water, wet and glistening, as if she had just been through a spring rain.

A few seconds later, Wen Yinong drew a difficult breath, raised her hand slightly, and removed the cashmere shawl from her shoulders.

The soft fabric slid down her arm, piling at the edge of the sink.

The deep-blue gown clung like seawater to the body in the mirror, outlining graceful, alluring curves.

Wen Yinong's gaze moved slowly downward, landing on the collarbone of this body.

There, a vivid red mark stood out starkly,

like a newly bloomed poppy, like a ball of scorching flame, branded onto the fair skin.

As if unconsciously, Wen Yinong's fingertips lightly touched that mark. A faint stinging pain struck, instantly dragging her thoughts back to moments before.

The turbulence had caused the aircraft's lighting circuit to fail.

In those minutes of darkness, she had been pinned on Mo Shaoshang's lap, held in his embrace.

The instant her vision sank into darkness, he had suddenly moved.

His large, masculine hand slid slowly up her spine, thin calluses grazing across the large expanse of bare skin, her beautifully shaped shoulder blades, finally gripping the nape of her neck.

Like a beast of prey clamping down on the neck of a herbivore.

The movement wasn't rough—it could even be called gentle—yet it carried an overbearing sense of control that brooked no defiance.

Wen Yinong parted her lips, but before she could make a sound, her small face was cupped by the man's other hand, lifted up, raised toward him.

In complete darkness she could see nothing, yet she could feel with utter clarity his breath drawing ever closer.

"You're always seducing me." Mo Shaoshang's voice was soft and low, tender as a sigh, his breath spilling over her collarbone, murmuring like a dream. "Why?"

"..." Wen Yinong wanted to say something, but every word was shattered by the sudden kiss.

His lips pressed against her.

Against her skin.

At first it was only a gentle touch, like a feather sweeping past.

Delicate, testing, lingering.

Wen Yinong trembled all over, her hands pressed against his chest, yet unable to muster a shred of strength.

She could only be forced to feel his warm, soft lips, carrying the perfect patience of a hunting beast, roving and tracing finely over the skin of her collarbone.

"Mr. Mo..." she managed to utter, her tone trembling like butterfly wings.

Mo Shaoshang didn't respond, but the light kiss changed.

He parted his lips.

His teeth grazed lightly over her collarbone.

It didn't hurt at all; instead, it stirred a heart-palpitating numbness.

Like a faint current burrowing into her veins, flowing through her whole body in the blink of an eye.

In the all-encompassing darkness, Wen Yinong's breathing fell into chaos.

Darkness erased sight; hearing and touch ruled everything: she heard his low, slightly heavy breathing.

Felt the moist trail left behind after his tongue swept across her skin.

Sensed the slight pressure as the web of his thumb braced against her jaw.

Just as Wen Yinong was about to be drowned by the darkness and this flood of sensation, the kiss on her collarbone suddenly turned fierce.

No longer content with a shallow taste, he began to possess that patch of skin more deeply.

With lips, with teeth, with tongue, the force of his kisses intensified, even bringing a pain laced with itch.

Wen Yinong's whole body burned as if on fire; she bit her lower lip, desperately stopping herself from making a sound.

Yet her body was quietly betraying her will to resist.

An unfamiliar thirst awakened within her, like a flower blooming stealthily in the dark—exceptionally dangerous, and enticing.

Until a certain moment, when the lights snapped on and the world regained its colors and shapes.

Only then did Mo Shaoshang's lips leave her skin, and the hand gripping hers slowly loosen.

Wen Yinong came back to herself, the corners of her eyes flushed red; her misty gaze took a good while to refocus and clear.

She broke free of him almost stumbling, and as if fleeing, snatched up the shawl beside her to cover her collarbone...

The memory broke off there.

In the restroom, Wen Yinong raised a hand to cover her scalding cheeks, feeling only chagrin.

She clearly remembered that after breaking free from Mo Shaoshang's embrace, she had deliberately turned back to look at him.

At that moment, a strange thought had emerged in her mind.

She had assumed that in those seconds of such shared abandon, since she was so disheveled, he couldn't be faring any better.

She had hoped to see him lost and out of control.

But things went against her wishes.

Everything in the cabin was in perfect order; the man sitting before her was impeccably dressed, noble and cold, his expression long since returned to its usual calm self-possession.

As if that transgression in the darkness had only been her illusion...

How could this man be so fake?

One second he bullied her like a vicious dog pouncing on prey, the next he was calm and composed, entirely like someone uninvolved.

How could he be so awful?

Wen Yinong was both angry and mortified. It took her a good while before she shook her head, cast the thoughts aside, turned on the faucet, and splashed some water on her face.

The evaporating droplets carried away some of the heat.

The temperature of her face finally dropped a few degrees.

Wen Yinong took a deep breath and let it out, looking into the mirror once more.

She thought, she had to get back at him somehow. Like quitting on the spot—telling him that whoever wanted to go to this auction could go, that she had no desire to help a vile man who only knew how to gnaw on people's collarbones.

She ought to curse him out and then walk away.

But the moment this thought surfaced, Wen Yinong vetoed it herself.

Forget it.

He was her employer, her boss, and right now she was on his private jet. If she really cursed Mo Shaoshang out, what if, in a fit of rage, he threw her off the plane?

Frustrating.

Under someone else's roof, one has to bow one's head. Better to muddle through tonight first and make plans once safely back in Jinggang.

Mulling this over, Wen Yinong once again braced herself mentally, steadied her nerves, pulled open the restroom door, and walked back out.

Who knew—the moment she turned, a towering shadow of dark black bore down upon her.

Mo Shaoshang stood in the corridor between the restroom and the dining area, leaning against the wall, eyes lowered, staring at her with an unreadable gaze.

Wen Yinong was startled, but showed nothing on the surface. Assuming he also needed the restroom, she lowered her head slightly, lifted the hem of her gown, and prepared to slip past him.

Who knew—after barely two steps, the other party spoke faintly, in the form of a question.

"Does it hurt?"

Wen Yinong was utterly baffled. She turned her head in confusion and asked back, "Does what hurt?"

Mo Shaoshang looked at her and said calmly, "I kissed you quite hard just now. I seem to have left a mark."

-----------------------

Author's note: Momo: My wife keeps seducing me and making me lose control, whimper whimper.

Nongnong: ...

——

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