Chapter 46: Become My Exclusive...

The word “rendezvous” rolled off Mo Shaoshang’s tongue in a low, husky voice, spoken with almost tender intimacy.

Wen Yinong was still immersed in the shock those two words had brought, her face flushed and her heart pounding, unsure how to respond.

Just then, a phone ringtone abruptly sounded, breaking the silence of the underground garage.

Mo Shaoshang lowered his eyes, took out his phone, and glanced at the screen. There was no change in his expression; he simply pressed the answer key with indifference and held it to his ear.

“Mm.”

“Understood.”

A few brief words, revealing no emotion at all. He hung up, put the phone away, and let his gaze fall once more on Wen Yinong’s face.

Those blue-black eyes were deep, and there was no telling what he was thinking.

A moment later, the two of them walked back to the car together.

Beside the immaculate black Rolls-Royce, Lin Ke waited in a respectful posture, having stood there quietly for quite some time. “Sir, Teacher Wen.” With that, he moved to open the car door for Mo Shaoshang.

But in the next second, Mo Shaoshang raised a hand slightly and waved casually, then reached out himself and pulled open the rear door.

Lin Ke took in the scene, lowered his eyes, and tactfully stepped aside.

Mo Shaoshang looked at Wen Yinong with a nonchalant expression, gesturing for her to get in.

The gesture left Wen Yinong slightly stunned.

She lifted her eyes to look at him. The man’s face still wore that same indifferent expression, as if this were the most ordinary action in the world. Yet deep within those blue-black eyes, a trace of tenderness flashed—gone in an instant, too quick to catch.

Warmth welled up in Wen Yinong’s heart, and her lips quietly curved.

She lowered her head, murmured a soft “thank you,” and bent to slip into the car.

Mo Shaoshang closed the door for her, then got in from the other side and sat down beside her.

The car started smoothly and drove away from Star Bridge.

The cabin was very quiet. Wen Yinong turned her gaze to the window, watching the streetscape recede bit by bit, yet her heartbeat refused to settle. She could feel the intensely present figure beside her, smell the crisp, cold cedar scent on him, and sense his gaze occasionally landing on her.

Deep and still, like an invisible hand gently caressing her cheek.

*

The car drove into the Mo estate and stopped in front of the main residence.

The housekeeper got out first, carrying Eric. The little one was already drowsy, his head resting on Sister Tang’s shoulder, eyes half open and half closed, still clutching the unfinished fruit gummy in his hand.

Wen Yinong watched Eric being carried away and was just about to push the door open and get out.

Suddenly, her wrist tightened.

Five long fingers had gently clasped her wrist.

Wen Yinong froze and turned her head, meeting those blue-black eyes. Lin Ke was still in the driver’s seat—his profile faintly visible in the rearview mirror. Her ears instantly grew hot. She moved her lips, wanting to speak—

“You go back first.”

Mo Shaoshang spoke first, his tone indifferent, as if stating the most ordinary of matters.

“Something’s come up at the company. I won’t be home for lunch.”

Wen Yinong was stunned.

This posture, this tone…

It was just like a husband reporting his whereabouts to his wife.

The thought rose from the depths of her mind, and both of Wen Yinong’s cheeks instantly caught fire. She lowered her eyes, suppressing her racing heart, striving to make her movements look natural as she unobtrusively brushed his hand away.

“I understand,” she said softly, her voice carrying an almost imperceptible tremor. “Take care.”

She pushed open the door and got out.

Standing on the steps, she watched the black Rolls-Royce slowly drive out through the wrought-iron gates and disappear at the end of the tree-lined avenue.

The night wind blew, lifting the stray hairs at her forehead.

Wen Yinong stood where she was, gazing at the vanished car, and only after a good long while did she raise a hand to cover her still-burning cheeks.

*

The afternoon passed calm as still water.

Wen Yinong gave Eric his lessons as usual, accompanied him through sensory integration training, and introduced him to new cognition cards. The little one was in good form today—occasionally he would actively look into her eyes, and when she read out the pictures on the cards, Eric would stretch out his finger to point at the cars and airplanes.

Wen Yinong praised Eric with smiling eyes, delighted by this progress.

And then, in some unguarded moment, she would recall the “rendezvous” from Mo Shaoshang’s lips, the ambiguous, low drawl with which he’d said it, and the breath that had brushed past her ear.

Wen Yinong pressed her lips together ever so lightly.

Deep in her heart, a secret emotion sprouted—joy, anticipation, something that could not be told.

*

At dusk, the setting sun dyed the entire estate a warm orange-red.

Wen Yinong tidied up her teaching materials, handed the cognition cards that needed evening review to the housekeeper, and carefully explained how to use them. Then she returned to her bedroom, changed into casual light-colored clothes, picked up her bag, and prepared to head out.

As soon as she came downstairs, she saw Uncle Heng standing at the door.

“Teacher Wen.” Uncle Heng greeted her with a smile. “The car is ready, just outside.”

Wen Yinong paused, instinctively wanting to decline. “Uncle Heng, there’s no need for all this trouble, I can just get a taxi…”

“It’s the boss’s instruction.” Uncle Heng cut her off, his tone gentle yet brooking no refusal. “He said your home is far, and taking a taxi at night isn’t safe. Please don’t put me in a difficult position.”

Wen Yinong opened her mouth, but in the end swallowed her words of refusal.

She thought to herself: she and Mo Shaoshang were already in a relationship—taking a car her boyfriend had arranged to get home didn’t really count as taking advantage, did it?

At the thought, her ears grew a few degrees hotter.

She thanked him, walked out the door, and got into the black Bentley.

*

The car traveled through the twilight, passing bustling streets before turning into a familiar lane.

After getting out and walking into the residential complex, Wen Yinong’s steps were light. As she entered the stairwell of her parents’ building, she quickly caught a rich, savory aroma.

The herbal fragrance of patchouli, mingled with the sweet scent of fish, swirled into her nose.

The smell set her appetite roaring. Her lips curved and she quickened her pace, jogging toward the front door.

She had just pulled out her keys when, with a clang, the door was yanked open from inside.

“See, I said it was Nongnong! I recognized her footsteps.”

Wen Zhenhua stood in the doorway, turning his head to call out toward Shen Yulan in the kitchen. Then he turned back, his gaze falling once more on his daughter outside, looking her up and down, scrutinizing her carefully, the affection in his eyes nearly brimming over.

“Mm, good, you haven’t gotten thin.” After examining his daughter all around, Wen Zhenhua nodded in satisfaction. “Seems your employer’s household feeds you well.”

Wen Yinong broke into a sweet smile and followed her father inside.

From the entryway came the clatter of spatula against wok in the kitchen, and Shen Yulan’s voice drifted out: “She lives in the southern suburbs now, a grand household—feasting on delicacies every day, having such a good time she doesn’t even want to come home. How could she go hungry?”

Wen Yinong and Wen Zhenhua exchanged a glance and couldn’t help bursting into laughter.

She hurried into the kitchen and gently wrapped her arms around Shen Yulan’s shoulders from behind, resting her chin on her mother’s shoulder and cooing, “Mom, I really have been busy every day. I’m not deliberately staying away.”

Shen Yulan still held her spatula, but being hugged by her daughter like this, she couldn’t keep a straight face—the corners of her mouth were already curving. Still, she put on a tough front: “Busy, busy, busy. You teachers are busy—aren’t doctors busy too? Doctor Pei isn’t half as hard to invite as you.”

Hearing this, Wen Yinong’s expression visibly froze.

Doctor Pei?

Out of nowhere, why bring up Doctor Pei?

Suspicious, she was about to press for details when Shen Yulan gently pushed her off, scooped the fish out of the wok and plated it with a flourish, then handed it over: “Take this out. Time to eat.”

“Oh.” Wen Yinong could only nod, suppressing her doubts, and carried the fish out.

Several dishes were already set on the dining table: sliced pig’s ear in chili oil, stir-fried seasonal greens, braised sea cucumber, quick-fried tripe strips, three-shred salad, and a big steaming basin of pickled-cabbage sliced-pork soup. An extremely lavish spread.

Wen Yinong’s eyes swept over the appetizing home-style dishes, and she was just reaching for chopsticks to sneak a taste when she noticed—one, two, three, four—four sets of bowls and chopsticks on the table.

Wen Yinong: “?”

While she puzzled over it, the doorbell suddenly rang.

“Coming, coming!”

Shen Yulan poked her head out of the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear, and shot Wen Zhenhua meaningful looks one after another. “Hurry and open the door!”

Wen Zhenhua wiped the water off his hands and headed to the entryway.

Witnessing this, Wen Yinong felt utterly baffled and turned to Shen Yulan. “Mom, is there another guest?”

“You’ll find out in a moment,” Shen Yulan replied, her smile deepening, growing more mysterious by the second.

Wen Zhenhua opened the door.

Wen Yinong looked up to see the man outside—tall and straight-backed, with handsome features, dressed in light gray casual wear that lent him an extra air of gentle refinement.

It was Pei Xizhou.

“Doctor Pei is here! Come in, come in.” By now Shen Yulan had washed her hands and hurried over, warm as if greeting a long-lost relative, chattering away. “Was traffic bad? You must be hungry? Quick, quick, come sit down.”

“Thank you, Auntie,” Pei Xizhou said with courteous grace. As he spoke, he held out several large gift boxes, smiling as he continued, “These are some gifts for you and Uncle—all health supplements. A small token of my regard.”

“Oh my, look at you! Just coming would have been enough—why bring so many things? You’re too polite.” Shen Yulan’s smile grew even wider. She took the gift boxes, stuffed them into Wen Zhenhua’s arms, and ushered Pei Xizhou inside.

Watching the scene before her, Wen Yinong’s face went blank, and it took her a good while to react.

She looked at her mother Shen Yulan, then at the newly arrived guest Pei Xizhou, and at the four sets of bowls and chopsticks on the table. Finally, she recalled how her mother had repeatedly urged her to add Pei Xizhou on WeChat and encouraged her to “make friends” with him…

Everything connected in that instant.

What was going on?

Could it be—Mom had taken a fancy to this young, accomplished, handsome doctor and wanted to matchmake her with Pei Xizhou, which was why she’d specially invited him to dinner?

The guess sprang into her mind, leaving Wen Yinong not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

She raised a hand and pressed her brow, utterly exasperated.

“Mom…” Wen Yinong lowered her voice, wanting to say something.

But Shen Yulan seemed not to hear. She was already pulling Pei Xizhou to sit at the table, enthusiastically serving him food. “Doctor Pei, try this—Nongnong’s father made the sliced ear salad, it’s really good.”

Pei Xizhou responded warmly, yet his gaze drifted, intentionally or not, across Wen Yinong’s face.

Meeting that gaze, Wen Yinong fell silent for a moment and could only force an awkward smile. “Hello, Doctor Pei.”

“Hello, Teacher Wen.” Pei Xizhou returned the smile, elegant as always.

Wen Yinong picked up her chopsticks, hesitated two seconds, then finally couldn’t resist leaning close to Wen Zhenhua’s ear and whispering, “Dad, why is Doctor Pei at our house?”

“It was your mother’s idea,” Wen Zhenhua answered in a low voice. “She said when your grandfather was hospitalized a while back, Doctor Pei took extra good care of the old man. We have to thank him properly.”

“Then she should have told me in advance,” Wen Yinong said, a little unhappy. “Springing this on me—now I look like a fool who knows nothing.”

“What difference does telling you in advance make? It’s not like you had to buy groceries or cook.” Wen Zhenhua chuckled, then waved a big hand dismissively. “Eat, eat. Your mother knows what she’s doing—you don’t need to worry.”

Wen Yinong: “…”

She wiped an imaginary bead of sweat, silently put a vegetable in her mouth, and said no more.

The meal was lively and harmonious.

Shen Yulan was the star—her mouth barely stopped, ranging from Pei Xizhou’s work to his family, from medical news to the latest health trends. Wen Zhenhua chimed in beside her, inserting a remark now and then; the atmosphere could be called convivial.

Wen Yinong ate in silence, answering a sentence or two whenever Shen Yulan called on her. She could feel Pei Xizhou’s gaze occasionally turning her way, but his temperament was mild and his eyes held no aggression at all—not the least bit uncomfortable, instead conveying a perfectly measured friendliness.

After dinner, Wen Zhenhua took up the heavy responsibility of washing dishes.

Shen Yulan pulled the two young people onto the sofa and chatted away with a beaming smile for a good while longer before reluctantly seeing them both out.

The stairwell lights were dim and yellow.

Pei Xizhou walked beside Wen Yinong, his pace unhurried.

Wen Yinong walked on in silence, turning things over in her mind, weighing her words for a long time before finally venturing, “Doctor Pei.”

“Mm?”

“My mother has a rather carefree personality, and sometimes she doesn’t watch her words. If anything offended you or made you uncomfortable, please don’t take it to heart.” Wen Yinong’s tone was apologetic and sincere. “She meant no harm at all.”

Pei Xizhou smiled gently. “Auntie is warm and hospitable. A personality like hers is rare in today’s society—truly precious.” He paused a beat, then turned his eyes to her and added, “I can tell, Teacher Wen’s family atmosphere is wonderful.”

Hearing this, Wen Yinong met Pei Xizhou’s clear, gentle gaze, thought of something, and her heart suddenly clenched.

Yes.

His parents had died early; he had grown up in the Mo family, to whom he had no blood ties, living under someone else’s roof.

A father’s smiling face, a mother’s nagging—these most ordinary things in an ordinary person’s life were, for Pei Xizhou, very far away.

At this thought, a wave of sympathy and pity surged in Wen Yinong’s heart, and she said nothing more.

Downstairs, the night wind blew, sweeping a few fallen leaves off the ground and into the air.

“Teacher Wen.” Pei Xizhou suddenly spoke.

Wen Yinong came back from her own world, turned her eyes to him.

“Let me see you home,” Pei Xizhou said. “It’s late—it’s not very safe for you to be alone.”

Wen Yinong shook her head, smiling. “No need. Thank you for the kind offer—Mr. Mo arranged a car for me.”

“…” Hearing this, Pei Xizhou’s steps faltered slightly.

A moment later, he turned his head to look at her, a barely perceptible probing in his gaze, and suddenly said, “Teacher Wen has been living at the Mo estate for some time now. It seems you’ve adapted to life there.”

“Mm… more or less.” Wen Yinong’s lips curved. “At first I really wasn’t used to anything, but now I think it’s all quite nice.”

“I lived in that estate for many years too,” Pei Xizhou said, his tone even. “I’ve always felt the Mo estate hides many secrets. I wonder if Teacher Wen feels the same?”

Wen Yinong didn’t think much of it and simply replied, “Perhaps. Such a big family, such a long family history—having secrets is normal.”

“True, it’s hardly surprising for a great family to have secrets.” Pei Xizhou paused slightly, then the look in his eyes as he watched her suddenly turned deep and faintly cold. “But what if those secrets involve human lives?”

Wen Yinong froze, not quite catching it. “Involve what?”

Pei Xizhou looked at her and smiled very faintly. The smile was still gentle and refined, yet somehow, under the dim yellow light, it seemed laden with hidden meaning.

“Teacher Wen,” he said, his tone light, as if making small talk, “I can tell you’re a very innocent person. You and your uncle and aunt have a harmonious, happy family. Perhaps you’ve never known what the dark side of this world looks like.”

Wen Yinong grew more and more bewildered, laughing in confusion. “Doctor Pei, what do you mean by all this? I really don’t understand.”

“Nothing. I just want to tell you—a girl out in the world should protect herself. One can’t be without wariness toward others.” The meaningful expression had already faded from Pei Xizhou’s face, returning to his usual easygoing manner. “After all, you must have heard the saying: ‘High society is a place that devours people.’ Keeping your wits about you in everything can only do you good.”

“…”

The night wind continued to blow, quiet and still.

Wen Yinong looked at Pei Xizhou, trying to read more from that handsome face. But Pei Xizhou had already turned to look elsewhere, raising an eyebrow as he said, half teasingly, “Teacher Wen should hurry back. Otherwise, the person waiting for you will get anxious.”

“Doctor Pei…” Wen Yinong was still mulling over his earlier words and wanted to ask more.

“Safe travels, Teacher Wen.” Pei Xizhou cut her off with a slight smile. “I enjoyed tonight’s dinner very much. I hope there’ll be a next time.”

With that, Pei Xizhou turned on his own and walked toward the complex’s open-air parking lot. His figure quickly vanished into the night, gone without a trace.

Wen Yinong stood where she was, feeling that something somewhere was off, yet unable to pinpoint exactly what.

She could only shake her head, gather her thoughts, and walk toward the black Bentley that had been waiting quietly by the roadside all along.

“Sorry to keep you waiting…” Smiling, Wen Yinong spoke politely toward the driver’s seat as she pulled open the door.

Yet the instant she looked up, her smile froze and her whole body went rigid.

The Mo estate had three chauffeurs in total: besides Chen Jin, with whom Wen Yinong dealt relatively often, there were two slightly older middle-aged men.

Wen Yinong clearly remembered that when she left the estate this evening, the driver Uncle Heng had assigned her was Old Yang, whom she called “Uncle Yang.”

And now, there was no trace of Uncle Yang in the driver’s seat.

In his place, a tall, picturesque profile entered her field of vision.

The man wore an impeccably tailored black suit, leaning back against the driver’s seat with a languid posture, long legs slightly apart. The dim interior light carved his cold, chiseled features, lending him the abstinent air of a Western religious painting—relaxed yet holy.

And those blue-black eyes quietly watched her, their gaze still, without a word.

“…” After nearly a second of stunned daze, Wen Yinong finally recovered from her surprise.

“Mr. Mo, you…” Wen Yinong cleared her throat, striving to regain her powers of speech, and asked suspiciously, “What are you doing here? Where’s Uncle Yang?”

Mo Shaoshang looked at her and said flatly, “He went back.”

Wen Yinong moved her lips, about to ask more, but he spoke again, saying to her: “Get in.”

Looking at the distinguished man in the driver’s seat, Wen Yinong pressed a hand to her forehead. She was silent for a full two seconds before sighing softly. “All right.” With that, she raised a hand, shut the rear door, and walked around to the driver’s side, standing there, quietly waiting.

Fine.

Since driver Uncle Yang had gone back, the heavy responsibility of driving naturally fell to her.

Otherwise, she could hardly let this employer act as her chauffeur, could she?

She had, in fact, held a driver’s license for years and occasionally drove to and from work—she just didn’t know whether the console of such an expensive, luxurious car differed much from an ordinary one. If she bungled the operation, embarrassment was the least of it; endangering her and this employer’s lives would be a real disaster…

Wen Yinong pondered nervously.

Just then, a voice came again from the driver’s seat, saying calmly: “You sit in the passenger seat.”

Hearing this, Wen Yinong lifted her eyes to Mo Shaoshang and blurted out instinctively, “Then who’s driving?”

Mo Shaoshang: “Me.”

“…” Wen Yinong’s eyes flew wide in an instant, shock and disbelief mingling on her fair face—she almost thought she’d misheard.

But she didn’t linger in that emotion for long. Soon she shut her mouth, walked to the passenger side, pulled open the door, and got in.

She was just reaching for the seatbelt when a shadow loomed over from beside her.

The clean, cold scent of rime frost, along with the man’s faint body warmth, invaded Wen Yinong’s five senses—soundless, traceless, yet everywhere—enveloping her completely.

In that instant, Wen Yinong’s heart clenched, seized by an invisible weightlessness.

Then she heard a soft click—the passenger seatbelt was set into its buckle by Mo Shaoshang.

Two gazes met briefly in the air.

The night was too deep, the moonlight too dim; the man’s blue-black eyes appeared especially dark and fathomless. Looking straight into her eyes, it made the very tip of Wen Yinong’s heart tremble.

But after only a few seconds, he drew back, putting distance between them once more.

The tip of her nose still faintly retained his scent—very light, slightly cool, with an ethereal quality.

Wen Yinong’s lashes fluttered twice, very lightly.

She had thought something might happen, but Mo Shaoshang merely fastened her seatbelt and then put an end to all that had not yet begun.

The black Bentley pulled out smoothly and merged into the lane, leaving the neighborhood behind.

*

The car sped along, the lamplight on both sides of the street flying backward.

Wen Yinong sat in the passenger seat, eyes lowered, head bowed, her crossbody bag still clutched in her arms. The slender ten fingers gripping its strap tightened unconsciously.

She stole a glance to her side.

The man drove in silence, not speaking a single word from start to finish, his eyes calm and his expression indifferent—utterly impossible to read.

After barely two glances, Wen Yinong quickly withdrew her gaze. She bit her lip lightly.

Earlier, Pei Xizhou had walked her downstairs, out of the complex, and kept pace beside her for quite a stretch.

She wondered whether Mo Shaoshang had seen.

If he hadn’t, that would be best—it would save her the effort of explaining.

But if he had…

Why hadn’t he mentioned a single word, asked a single question?

Wen Yinong speculated wildly, then quickly drew a deep breath and let it out, not daring to think deeper.

*

The black Bentley passed through the bustling city center, heading south all the way.

Wen Yinong didn’t know where Mo Shaoshang was taking her; she only noticed the scenery outside the window gradually changing. In the night, the outlines of high-rises vanished completely at some point, leaving only row upon row of plane trees.

This was a road she had never traveled—like some stretch of the past that Jinghai had deliberately hidden away.

The car continued along the tree-lined avenue. After an indeterminate length of time, a white building entered Wen Yinong’s view.

A European classical mansion about five stories tall, grand in scale, stretching horizontally for hundreds of meters, its gray-white stone facade gleaming faintly under the moonlight. Colonnades, arched windows, and the greenery planted all around—every detail was exquisitely refined, like an ancient artifact in a museum.

It simply stood there in the night, dark and silent, not a single lamp lit—calling to mind a slumbering beast, breathing shallowly, exuding a tenderness as fleeting as an epiphyllum’s bloom.

Mo Shaoshang parked the car in front of the building and turned off the engine.

The surroundings plunged into total darkness in an instant; only silvery moonlight flowed quietly, tracing the mansion’s silhouette.

Wen Yinong gazed at the ancient building before her, nearly entranced, her eyes full of wonder.

The next moment, Mo Shaoshang got out, walked around to the passenger side, and pulled open the door.

He extended his hand to her.

A good few seconds passed before Wen Yinong’s attention returned from the ancient building.

Her heartbeat inexplicably quickened. She pressed her lips, drew a deep breath, and finally, as if steeling her resolve, grasped the man’s hand. Well-defined knuckles, slightly cool, strong—inexplicably reassuring.

Just like that, led by the man beside her, Wen Yinong ascended the stone steps one by one, their footsteps echoing in the empty night.

The door was heavy, seemingly some precious oak—a double door, each panel two people tall, its bronze handles worn cold and smooth by the years.

Mo Shaoshang stepped to the side of the door and tapped twice on a metal panel.

The fingerprint lock accepted him.

“Clack!” The lock opened with a heavy sound.

The space inside the building was very dark. Boundless darkness—so dark she couldn’t see her own hand. It took Wen Yinong nearly half a minute to adjust to this utter blackness.

Moonlight, cold and clear as water, filtered in through the high windows, barely illuminating the space. She looked around and made out a vast entrance hall, its ceiling at least a dozen meters high, and could faintly see a broad, deep spiral staircase that seemed to extend upward without end, leading who knew where.

Thump, thump.

Her heartbeat seemed to quicken further.

The fear of the unknown unsettled her; compounded by the dark space and the dangerous man, Wen Yinong felt apprehensive and uneasy. She could only half-close her eyes, breathing deeply again and again, trying to steady her heart.

At that moment, the five fingers gripping her wrist suddenly loosened.

Wen Yinong blinked in the darkness.

The next second, a faint rustling sounded by her ear.

Chk—

A flame abruptly flared to life, the single point of light in ten thousand folds of darkness.

Wen Yinong instinctively turned her eyes toward it.

A few steps away, Mo Shaoshang had at some point ignited a lighter; the firelight illuminated his profile. His jawline, the bridge of his nose, his lowered lashes—all edged in warm, dim yellow in that instant.

The flame danced in the man’s blue-black eyes. His face was composed as he lit the first wall sconce.

A brass base, a glass shade—the firelight diffused through the glass.

By its light, Wen Yinong noticed several more old-fashioned sconces along the wall.

Mo Shaoshang strolled forward at an unhurried pace, and so the second, the third… sconce after sconce came alight at his fingertips.

Between flicker and shadow, those blue-black eyes appeared and vanished, dark enough to make one’s heart quail.

Only at this moment did Wen Yinong finally fail to hold back. She cleared her throat and ventured, “This is… where is this?”

At her words, Mo Shaoshang’s lamp-lighting motion paused slightly, and he turned to look at her.

He stood at the boundary of light and shadow, the flame leaping before his face, splitting his features into countless instants—bright and dark, light and shadow, switching back and forth, like a soul stretched to breaking in several directions.

“My private museum,” Mo Shaoshang said flatly, and with that, extinguished the flame in his hand.

“You…” Wen Yinong swallowed softly, her voice trembling slightly, and asked again, “Why did you bring me here?”

So this was the “rendezvous” he’d spoken of? She didn’t understand.

As her words fell, Mo Shaoshang didn’t answer. Instead, he walked toward her.

The sconce light spilled down, framing him in a halo from behind, but his face was backlit, terrifyingly dark. Step by step he drew closer; the firelight flowed, and those ice-sea eyes fixed on her unwaveringly, locking her in place.

Wen Yinong was somewhat frightened and retreated as if by reflex, but after only a few steps, her back suddenly went cold.

Her spine pressed against the wall.

No way out.

A mere pace away, the man halted.

Mo Shaoshang bent down and leaned toward the girl before him, his thin lips gleaming darkly in the dim light. Slowly, gently, he pressed a kiss to her trembling earlobe, his voice low and husky: “Piccolina, benvenuta nel mio mondo. Sarai la mia gemma rara, custodita per sempre.”

Little darling, welcome to the world that belongs to me alone.

Become my most precious—my exclusive—treasure.

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

Author’s note: Momo: Baby, didn’t we agree you were just going home to have dinner with your mom?

Nongnong: QAQ…

—

100 random red envelopes