Chapter 53: I Love You So Dearly...

Wen Yinong was still immersed in the shock of those eerie images, her heart feeling as though it had been seized by someone, her breathing trembling.

Hearing the man's question, she grew even more flustered and at a loss. Her gaze flickered away from his stare, and she answered carelessly, "I was just preparing lessons... when you knocked, I happened to be in the bathroom."

Mo Shaoshang's lips lingered along her neck, kissing her in fine, dense trails, as though she were some kind of sweet delicacy. Hearing her answer, he said nothing. His thin lips moved upward, finding her soft, pink, faintly trembling ones.

He bit down gently.

Neither too light nor too heavy—just enough force to make her whole body shudder.

Wen Yinong blinked, her heart pounding like thunder, staring fixedly at the man only inches away.

The next second, she felt the tip of his tongue probe out, prying open her teeth and driving straight into her mouth. Churning, twining, plundering—as if declaring sovereignty, carrying an overwhelming, tyrannical possessiveness.

In moments, Wen Yinong's breathing fell into disarray and her eyes grew wet.

Kissed until she was dazed, unable to breathe, all the chaotic thoughts in her mind were squeezed out, leaving only the suffocating sensation of her lips and tongue being deeply drawn upon.

She could only feel his breath, his warmth, his wet, soft tongue.

Outside the window, the night grew darker and deeper.

A wisp of night breeze drifted in through the window.

The sash of Wen Yinong's nightgown was pulled open. Thin, faintly cold air invaded her skin, provoking an irrepressible shiver.

The chill had no time to wake her reason before the man's hand came up to cover her.

Strong, long-fingered, with the roughness of thin calluses.

It stroked back and forth along the nape of her neck and her spine, tender and slow, as if comforting a wounded little animal.

Wen Yinong's ten fingers curled tight, her whole body trembling in the man's arms.

Nervousness? Anticipation? Fear... or perhaps all of them at once?

Wen Yinong couldn't tell, and she had no shred of consciousness left to think.

Sensing her trembling, Mo Shaoshang kissed her even deeper.

Every intimate contact with her made him addicted and exhilarated.

It seemed that the moment he touched her, all his reason, composure, and gentlemanly restraint would collapse and crumble—his mind filled only with the urge to kiss her deeply, to take her fiercely.

At this minute, this second, Mo Shaoshang's blood surged; he only wanted to recklessly vent everything.

To let all the heat and madness born of her, the lost, bewitched infatuation that belonged to her alone, burst forth completely.

The man's body was tall and heavy. As he bore down like a thunderbolt, the girl's pale-colored bed could not bear the weight, instantly sinking in a great hollow.

Wen Yinong had no time to react; her lips quivered twice before she was dragged into a firm, powerfully built chest.

Skin met skin wantonly, limbs entangled wildly.

Addiction and desire came on like a storm.

Amid the tempestuous entanglement, Mo Shaoshang even had an illusion—as if he were no longer human, but had become a beast.

Perhaps a lion on the wilderness, or a wolf deep in the jungle.

He was primal and restless, every inch of muscle grinding wantonly against the girl's tender body, repeating again and again, confirming again and again.

Confirming that she belonged only to him...

At a certain moment, the man suddenly halted his galloping assault and looked down.

The girl beneath him was like a little lamb seized by the throat—cheeks crimson, eyes brimming with moisture, sobbing pitifully and without cease. A few teardrops slipped from the corners of her eyes, crystalline, glittering like shattered light in the dim lamplight.

Seeing this, something stirred in Mo Shaoshang's heart.

He lowered his head, and with the tip of his tongue gently licked away her tears.

A bitter, faintly salty taste spread between his lips and tongue.

She was clearly so pitifully lovable.

Yet at this moment, having tasted her tears, his whole body was instead provoked into greater frenzy. His excitement and lust for conquest burned to their peak, as though a fire were rampaging through his veins, scorching his very organs with pain.

The craving in the depths of his heart grew ever stronger.

He wanted to devour her, fiercely.

Caught in such a violent tide, Wen Yinong's whole mind was dizzy and muddled. The sensory stimulation of being intensely possessed filled her brain, filled her whole body, making her temporarily forget all her fright and doubts.

In a haze, she felt the man atop her suddenly stop all movement.

"..." She opened her eyes in a daze.

Mo Shaoshang braced his two long arms on either side of her body, leaning low, looking down at her from above.

In those blue-black eyes, fire burned.

Unbridled, naked and blatant, wantonly scorching the tiny her reflected in his pupils.

Wen Yinong didn't understand. Her wet, long lashes blinked twice; she didn't know what had happened.

The next instant, her body grew light.

She was lifted up in his arms.

□*□

The icy sensation made Wen Yinong cry out softly, but before she could come back to herself, he had already lowered his head again and kissed her.

□*□

□*□

Wen Yinong's head spun; she was like a small flower about to scatter under a rainstorm, trembling in the gale. She could only stretch out her two porcelain-white, bare arms and hold him tighter.

Depending on him, and giving.

In her blurred vision, the black snake tattoo on the man's chest seemed to truly come alive. Its face was savage, sinister and bewitching, struggling to burst free of the shackles of this body.

The snake's body rose and fell with the tensing of his muscles, its scales gleaming darkly, soaked in sweat, as if the next second it would open its bloody maw and swallow her whole.

One white flash after another exploded in her mind, rising and falling in succession.

Wen Yinong's flushed little face tilted up helplessly, her gaze completely unfocused; she felt she might die.

Faintly, she heard the man's voice by her ear.

Hoarse and low, like sleep-talk, like the whisper of a devil.

"Piccolina, ti amo alla follia, sono perdutamente innamorato di te. (Baby, I love you so madly, I am hopelessly infatuated with you.)"

"Se un giorno mi lasciassi, ucciderei tutti quelli che ti hanno corrotto. (If one day you leave me, I will do every mad thing.)"

"Me stesso compreso. (Including killing myself.)"

*

The next morning.

It was a clear, sunny day. As soon as the sky brightened, sunlight spilled through the clouds onto the earth.

Wen Yinong drifted awake from sleep, her whole body as sore as if it had been run over by wheels. Once her consciousness cleared a little, she idly reached out to the side of the bed.

Empty.

The bedding was ice-cold.

Clearly, the man who had slept here the night before had been gone for some time.

Wen Yinong blinked, staring at the ceiling in a daze for a while. Those frenzied images flashed through her mind; her cheeks warmed, and she hurriedly shook her head, forcing her thoughts back in order.

Truly too sleepy, she lazed in bed a while longer, then yawned and reached for her phone.

There was an unread WeChat message on the screen.

Her fingertip moved; she opened it.

M: [Urgent business requires me to go to Tokyo. Expected return in half a month.]

A single understated line, concise and to the point, revealing no extra emotion.

Half a month? He was going to be gone that long?

A barely perceptible trace of loss welled up in her heart. Wen Yinong quietly sighed and typed a reply: [Mm, okay.]

After replying, just as she was about to set down the phone, new messages popped up in the chat box.

M: [I will miss you every day.]

M: [I hope you will too ^ ^]

"..."

After reading the two messages, the temperature of Wen Yinong's cheeks rose a few degrees. The corner of her mouth curled slightly as she typed: [Mm.]

After sending it, she stared at that "Mm" and blinked. It seemed a bit cold, so she added a sticker of a little cat pouting for a kiss.

M: [Che dolce che sei (Such a sweet baby)]

Wen Yinong's face grew even hotter. She quickly put down the phone, rolled over, and got up.

She washed up, changed clothes, and tidied up a little.

Having changed her shoes, just as she was about to go downstairs for breakfast, her peripheral vision inadvertently swept across the desk.

The computer was shut down, its screen pitch-black.

And in those few short seconds, the horrifying videos and images from last night abruptly surfaced in Wen Yinong's mind.

Her steps halted. She hesitated, and deliberated.

After a long moment.

Wen Yinong walked back to the desk, fished the key out of a drawer, turned it, and pulled the drawer open.

The black USB drive lay quietly in the corner.

She took it out and gripped it in her palm. After a moment of hesitation, she took a deep breath, found a profile picture in her WeChat contacts, and tapped into the chat.

[Dr. Pei, I've roughly looked through the files. I don't really understand—what exactly are these?]

She hit "send."

Unexpectedly, the other side replied almost instantly.

Pei Xizhou: [Does Teacher Wen know how to access the overseas internet?]

"..." Looking at this question, Wen Yinong felt quite baffled.

She frowned slightly, thought for a few seconds, and replied: [You mean bypassing the firewall? I've heard of it.]

Pei Xizhou: [Once you're on the overseas internet, search one keyword: Saints.]

Saints.

This word meant "saint" in Christianity.

Silently reading the word once, Wen Yinong felt even more at a loss. Just as she was about to press further, "bang bang bang"—a knock suddenly sounded at the door.

"Teacher Wen, are you up?" Auntie Zhang's voice came from outside the door, respectful and gentle. "Breakfast is ready."

Hearing this, Wen Yinong instinctively put the USB drive in her hand back into the drawer and called out, "Okay, Auntie Zhang, I understand."

*

Everything in the Mo estate—people, affairs, all of it—ran with extreme regularity.

When breakfast ended, it was time for Wen Yinong's intervention lessons with Eric.

Sensory integration training, language intervention, cognitive flashcards. The morning flew by in the familiar routine.

Wen Yinong focused all her attention on accompanying Eric, striving not to think of those unpleasant things.

After lunch, the caretaker auntie took Eric for his midday nap as usual.

Wen Yinong pulled the curtains fully shut with a "whoosh," locked the door, and stayed alone in the bedroom.

She sat on the edge of the bed, gazing distractedly at the computer on the desk for a while, and then—as if having made some resolution—rose, went to the desk, sat down, and turned on the computer.

She wasn't skilled at accessing the overseas internet; she could only follow tutorials found online, step by step.

Download the software, configure the settings, connect the node.

After fiddling for a good while, she finally succeeded.

She opened Google, tapped the keyboard twice, and typed "Saints" into the search bar.

She hit enter.

Countless webpages instantly popped up on the screen, all foreign sites. English, French, German—a dense mass.

Wen Yinong scrolled the mouse, reading down line by line.

Suddenly, one entry caught her attention.

[Between 1960 and 2000, more than 3,700 children mysteriously disappeared across Europe and America. Insiders reveal it may be connected to the "Saints" organization.]

Children.

Disappearances.

Words like these stabbed into Wen Yinong's eyes like ice picks.

Her chest tightened; her fingertips trembled slightly as she clicked into that page.

The page loaded for a few seconds, then jumped open.

It was a very long report, interspersed with blurry black-and-white photographs and scanned documents. She read on word by word, sentence by sentence, the rhythm of her heartbeat growing more and more disordered.

The report said that the "Saints" organization was a church with a long history in Europe—on the surface, a charitable, philanthropic group, a medium through which celebrities and tycoons aided society's lower classes. Its congregants spanned all fields: politicians, businessmen, lawyers, artists, even members of royal families.

Yet in recent years, an insider had exposed an earth-shattering scandal.

At the end of the report, a quoted passage was displayed in bold:

"To my knowledge, many of the Saints' congregants harbor unspeakable perversions. If people truly believe they are a group of charity-loving good souls, then this world is doomed beyond redemption."

Reading these words, Wen Yinong felt an inexplicable chill creep up her palms and back.

After a moment, she closed the page and continued browsing other sites.

One article after another.

One forum after another.

Gradually, countless fragments of information pieced together, and the truth revealed its hazy outline.

On one forum, a European netizen offered an interpretation of "Saints" that was relatively direct and easy to understand.

The netizen wrote: [If you compare the Saints organization to a person, then he is Satan draped in God's robes. This organization is a cult through and through. A crowd of well-dressed people gathered together, scorning life, committing every evil imaginable—their crimes are too numerous to record. And the most tragic part is that every one of these people holds an illustrious status; they are even the makers of this world's rules. So their sins are hidden behind wealth and power. They are like true demons, standing above law and justice.]

"..."

Several minutes later, Wen Yinong closed the browser.

Her brain had taken in too much information; digesting it was extraordinarily difficult. It was a long while before she barely recovered herself, picked up her phone, and messaged Pei Xizhou again.

Wen Yinong: [What I found is that "Saints" is a church organization in Europe, extremely controversial...]

She paused, then continued typing: [Dr. Pei, what exactly are you trying to tell me?]

A moment later, Pei Xizhou's new reply flashed out.

[The Saints' emblem is a black snake totem.]

Wen Yinong's pupils abruptly contracted.

Pei Xizhou's second message popped up right after: [Teacher Wen should know that Mr. Mo has a black snake tattoo on his chest, yes?]

"..." In that instant, Wen Yinong's breathing stopped.

What did that mean?

According to the information she had found on the overseas internet, the Saints' members had never publicly revealed their true identities. But one thing was certain: they were all luminaries of every walk of society, true elites of the upper class.

Could it be...

Could it be?

In just a few seconds, Wen Yinong was so shocked she stood straight up from her chair.

She raised a hand to cover her lips, her eyes wide, her mind a complete blank.

Right after, something else surfaced in her mind, bit by bit, flashing past like a revolving lantern.

She remembered the sinister, terrifying albino banded krait in Mo Shaoshang's study.

It was said that snakes liked to eat live prey, and that people who kept snakes usually had extremely cold hearts...

She remembered Mo Shaoshang's near-pathological fondness for the color blue.

The walls covered in deep blue in his studio, the fathomless blue in his eyes, and the blue body paint he stubbornly smeared on when painting her...

Wen Yinong clearly remembered: in those video files, the robes those people wore during their rituals were blue, and the masks they wore were blue too.

She remembered again the night Mo Shaoshang had personally cooked steak for her.

The beef on the man's plate was still seeping blood. Knife and fork in hand, he dined with elegance. His snow-white, even teeth tore the raw meat apart, chewed, swallowed.

At the time, she had only thought it was his unique dietary habit. Thinking of it now, she only felt cold all over.

Heavens!

A terrible conjecture surfaced in her mind.

"..." Wen Yinong's ten fingers shook, her whole body trembled; she felt as if she'd been thrown into a freezing deep sea, about to drown.

Mo Shaoshang was a member of the Saints organization?

Those eerie videos, those cold lists of names—they were somehow connected to him?

...No, no, no.

Maybe it was just a coincidence. Maybe all of this was a misunderstanding, her own absurd fantasy!

She thought she should verify it with Mo Shaoshang in person, hear him deny it—or admit it—with his own mouth.

Yes, she had to ask him herself, had to get everything clear.

Thinking this, Wen Yinong directly picked up her phone.

But just as her finger was about to press the call button, it stopped.

What if?

What if things really were as she guessed—the Mo family was also one of the Saints, and she had discovered him, the Mo family, that "Saints organization," even the vile, top-secret rot of the entire Euro-American elite circle...

Would he let her go?

An unprecedented sense of terror and despair surged over her like a rising tide, nearly drowning Wen Yinong.

Did she understand him?

Not at all.

She only knew that he was handsome, wealthy, possessed absolute fortune and power, and had many unique, unknown hobbies. Beyond that, she could be said to know nothing about him.

Agreeing to date him back then had also been one fevered decision after another.

She had been muddledly attracted, seduced, and had walked into the web he wove.

Even during the secret-dating phase, even in a period this intimate, most of their time together was spent kissing passionately and making love frantically.

Without any emotional foundation whatsoever.

Thinking back—why had she tried to understand Mo Shaoshang through Pei Xizhou? She was his girlfriend; by rights she should trust him.

...Trust?

How could she trust?

This relationship, built upon addiction to each other's bodies and carnal experience, was fragile to the extreme. This feeling, barely a month old—how could it withstand any test of soul or the bottom line of human nature?

In fact, long before Pei Xizhou appeared, she had already found him mysterious, bizarre, and lethally dangerous.

Precisely because of instinctive, biological self-preservation, she had never dared ask him himself anything about him, about his family.

Now, all the suspicious points had strung together; all the strangeness had found a reasonable explanation...

At this moment, as if struck by lightning, Wen Yinong suddenly realized just what kind of dangerous person she had provoked.

No—very likely he could not be called a person at all, but a sick, venomous snake.

An evil demon.

She was just an ordinary little commoner—how could she dare gamble on that possibility?

If she stayed at the estate and maintained a lover's relationship with that man, what would her ending be?

She didn't dare imagine.

Wen Yinong's hands and feet were ice-cold, her whole body chilled, her thoughts in chaos.

Then... what should she do now?

Propose breaking up to Mo Shaoshang?

Would he agree?

In Wen Yinong's mind echoed the man's hoarse murmur at the peak of passion.

He said she was not allowed to leave him.

He also said that if she dared leave him, he would kill everyone—including himself.

What kind of madman was he, exactly?!

Outside the window, the night wind turned biting. Dark clouds covered the moon; the sky was gloomy. Tree branches bent under the wind, creaking and groaning, as if they might snap at any moment.

The ten fingers Wen Yinong braced on the desk slowly tightened, knuckles whitening, nails digging into her palm.

Her pupils suddenly contracted.

A thought was born in her heart.

She had to leave the Mo estate.

Leave that terrifying man.

*

Mo Shaoshang had gone to Tokyo; he wouldn't return to Jinghai for half a month.

Wen Yinong knew that if she was determined to escape, this was the perfect opportunity.

The chance must not be missed—it would not come again.

So in the following days, she privately contacted Zhang Yao.

"Principal," Wen Yinong said, "my health hasn't been very good lately. The doctor prescribed some medicine and told me to take it while observing. If the results aren't good, I may need to take a long leave later on. I'd like to ask you to start looking for a new rehabilitation therapist for Eric in advance."

"You're unwell?" Over the phone, Zhang Yao's voice carried a few notes of worry and concern. "Xiao Wen, what's wrong? What illness is it?"

"Nothing serious." Wen Yinong responded calmly with the explanation she had prepared in advance. "I've just been too tired lately, a bit of an anxious state. The doctor told me to rest more and not overwork."

"So that's it..." Hearing this, Zhang Yao expressed understanding, then sighed softly. "This period really has been too hard on you. The situation at the Mo estate is special, and Eric's rehabilitation is a long-term project. You carrying it all alone—the pressure must be huge. If your body really can't hold up, then rest. As for Eric, I'll start arranging a new teacher."

"Okay." Wen Yinong paused, then added, "If it's convenient, please arrange for the new therapist to come to the estate soon. If I later confirm that I'll take leave, Eric can get familiar with the new teacher in advance. And if my health recovers well, having one more caregiver interacting with Eric would also help the child's rehabilitation. What do you think?"

"Alright, no problem," Zhang Yao said. "That's a very thorough consideration. I'll look for candidates in the next couple of days and arrange it as soon as possible."

At this point, Zhang Yao paused for half a second, then remembered something: "Then, does Mr. Mo know about this situation?"

Wen Yinong thought briefly and replied with a smile, "Once I confirm the leave later, it won't be too late to tell Mr. Mo. He's in Tokyo right now—how could we trouble him to be distracted over the child's affairs?"

"Mm, that's true." Zhang Yao didn't suspect anything and continued her instructions: "Work is never as important as health. Xiao Wen, take good care of yourself."

"Thank you for your concern, Principal. I will."

Hanging up, Wen Yinong leaned back in her chair and let out a long breath toward the ceiling.

She had finally taken the first step.

*

Principal Zhang Yao acted with remarkable speed.

The very next day, another rehabilitation teacher arrived at the Mo estate.

The new teacher's surname was Jiang, given name Rong—around thirty, gentle in temperament and lovely in appearance. She was one of Star Bridge's chief rehabilitation therapists, with nearly ten years of experience and rich expertise. Wen Yinong had met her a few times before.

Seeing an unfamiliar face, Uncle Heng grew puzzled, looking at Wen Yinong with questioning eyes.

Wen Yinong hurriedly explained with a smile, "Uncle Heng, this is Teacher Jiang Rong, one of our Star Bridge's chief rehabilitation therapists. She's here to work in tandem with me."

"So that's how it is." Hearing this, Uncle Heng's suspicions dissolved completely, and a smile bloomed on his face. "Hello, Teacher Jiang."

"Hello." Jiang Rong smiled and nodded, her manner proper.

Afterward, Wen Yinong took Teacher Jiang to meet Eric.

The afternoon sunlight was just right, spilling across the lawn of the estate's back garden. The little fellow squatted beside the sandpit, using a small shovel to dig up leaves.

One fallen leaf after another was shoveled up by him, piled into tiny mounds.

Watching Eric's tender little figure from afar, Wen Yinong felt a wave of sourness well up in her heart.

She took a deep breath and walked over.

"Eric." She bent down, looking level into the boy's eyes, her voice gentle. "This is Teacher Jiang. She's also a teacher. From now on she'll play with you together with Teacher Wen, alright?"

Eric went on busying himself with what he was doing, giving no response.

Jiang Rong also squatted down in front of Eric.

Her smile was warm and kind, her eyes curving—the sort that easily made people feel close to her.

"Hello, Eric," she said softly, her tone as soft as the clouds in the sky. "I'm Teacher Jiang. Look, what did Teacher bring you?"

With that, Jiang Rong pulled a small green dinosaur toy from her pocket.

Seemingly finding the dinosaur toy interesting, Eric turned his gaze toward it and stared at the little dinosaur for a few seconds. Then he tentatively stretched out his small hand and touched the dinosaur's long tail.

Watching this scene from the side, Wen Yinong's suspended heart finally settled.

At dinnertime, Jiang Rong prepared to leave.

Wen Yinong saw her colleague to the estate gate.

Night had fallen; the clouds at the horizon were dyed deep purple, and lights had come on throughout the estate.

"To be honest, before coming, I was a bit nervous, afraid the child would reject me." A faint smile hung on Jiang Rong's lips, her tone sincere. "After meeting him, I'm completely at ease. Teacher Wen, I can tell you've been very devoted these days—you've taught Eric so well."

Hearing Jiang Rong's words, the bits and pieces of her time with Eric surfaced in Wen Yinong's mind—those quiet moments of companionship, those clumsy interactions, those tiny yet precious steps of progress.

Her eyes grew slightly moist.

But she quickly composed herself, curved her lips, and said in an even tone, "Not at all—Teacher Jiang flatters me. This little one is very well-behaved to begin with."

"Teacher Wen is too modest." Amid the small talk, Jiang Rong's expression turned amazed. "I read the record book you wrote. This child seems to have already started trying to socialize with peers?"

"Yes, we persist with social-skills lessons every week..." Wen Yinong said, then paused, remembered something, and added, "Oh, right, Teacher Jiang—if you formally take over the position later, you can take Eric to Taigong Mountain Wetland Park more often."

Hearing this, Jiang Rong was somewhat puzzled and raised an eyebrow. "Taigong Mountain Wetland Park? Is there something special about it?"

"Eric has a 'friend' there." Wen Yinong smiled, her gaze drifting toward the distant clouds where the last trace of afterglow was fading. "Her name is Nana—an especially lively, adorable little girl. I don't know why, but I have a feeling... perhaps one day in the future, this little girl will lead us into Eric's inner world."

Jiang Rong nodded thoughtfully. "Alright, I'll remember that."

After seeing Teacher Jiang off, Wen Yinong stood alone on the tree-lined road outside the estate.

The night wind suddenly rose, whipping her hair and the hem of her clothes into flight.

Wen Yinong stood where she was, gazing from afar at the lit lamps of the estate's main residence. Then her gaze shifted slightly, toward the pitch-black window of the master bedroom.

After a moment of silence, she took out her phone and composed a message:

[Eric has been properly arranged. What comes after—including matters on my family's side—I'll leave to you.]

In less than a minute, the other side replied:

[Between friends, no need for thanks.]

Wen Yinong took a deep breath, put the phone back in her pocket, turned around, and walked toward the main residence.

The night wind blew ever sharper.

Leaves rustled and roared, dancing wildly in the darkness. A rainstorm was coming.

·

Eight days later.

Above the boundless Pacific Ocean, at an altitude of ten thousand meters.

The "Silver Wing" business jet pierced through the cloud layers, flying steadily through the deep-blue sky. Beyond the porthole stretched a silent vastness, broken only by the faint contrails left where the wings cut the airflow.

Inside the cabin, a soothing violin piece flowed softly. A cup of clear tea sat on the dining table, long since gone cold, the tea leaves sunk lifelessly at the bottom.

Mo Shaoshang's eyes were closed as he leaned back in the wide leather seat, resting.

His features were cold and stern, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his high-bridged nose, not a ripple of emotion visible in his picturesque brow and eyes.

Suddenly, a steady set of footsteps approached from afar, the pace slightly quick, stopping at Mo Shaoshang's side.

Lin Ke's handsome face was somewhat grave. He bent down and murmured something in a low voice by Mo Shaoshang's ear.

The instant the words landed, the man's eyes snapped open with a "whoosh."

He turned his head to look at Lin Ke. In the blue-black depths of his eyes, dark clouds massed; countless storms were piling up, churning.

"Ripeti."

His tone was calm, his voice like ice.

Say it again.

The veins at Lin Ke's temples throbbed twice; cold sweat seeped from his forehead. He bowed his head even lower and said in a low voice, "Uncle Heng called. He said Teacher Wen did not return to the estate yesterday, and also said... she left you a letter."

Then Lin Ke opened the tablet and displayed the photo Uncle Heng had taken of the letter's contents.

Mo Shaoshang's gaze fell upon it.

Pale-colored letter paper, bearing the girl's delicate, fresh handwriting—extremely brief.

[Mr. Mo:

My health has been poor lately, and I plan to take a long leave to recuperate properly. You needn't worry about Eric—Teacher Jiang is gentle and kind, and professionally outstanding; I believe she will bring pleasant surprises. Please do not look for me, and please do not make things difficult for my family or Principal Zhang Yao because of this. Best wishes.

Wen Yinong]

"..."

The cabin fell into abrupt dead silence.

Only the violin piece continued flowing on, oblivious, mellifluous.

Sunlight shone in through the glass, casting cold, hard, sinister shadows across the man's handsome face.

Clearly, everything was within expectations.

Clearly, everything was within the plan...

Wen Yinong, Wen Yinong.

Mo Shaoshang's eyes were dark and heavy. He slowly ground this name between his lips and teeth, then furrowed his brow slightly and closed his eyes.

Lin Ke carefully observed his expression and ventured, "Sir, the follow-up matters... should they still proceed according to the original plan?"

"Mm."

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

Author's note: The inspiration for the "Saints" organization comes from the infamous Epstein case files—interested readers can look into it. No more spoilers from me~

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I've opened a new story in my column, "Wildfire Kisses Me," part of the "Mountains and Rivers" series. Interested readers, please bookmark it~