Chapter 61: The Grand Finale

Life together was sweet and comfortable, and several days slipped by in a blink.

During the day, Wen Yinong and Mo Shaoshang each busied themselves with their own affairs.

She returned to work at Star Bridge, picking up the rehabilitation lesson plans that had been set aside for so long, teaching classes to the children. He stayed home sending out résumés, taking on remote translation and consulting work.

Occasionally, in his spare time, he would study Chinese cuisine.

Mo Shaoshang's ability to learn was extraordinary.

He spent two days earnestly studying recipes, blending seasonings, mastering heat control. By the third day, he could already skillfully produce quite a few authentic, delicious home-style dishes.

Every day when Wen Yinong came home from work and pushed open the door, she could smell the aroma drifting from the kitchen.

Sometimes it was braised pork ribs, sometimes tomato beef brisket, and sometimes the sweet-and-sour fish she had only mentioned in passing once—but which Mo Shaoshang had taken to heart.

This man who had once stood at the pinnacle of the pyramid, a favored son of heaven, now stood before the stove wearing her apron, his tall frame forming a bizarre contrast with the floral pattern on the fabric.

Every time Wen Yinong saw it, she found it both comical and deeply moving.

At night, the two of them would battle it out in bed.

Unlike the harmless, husbandly air he displayed during the day, Mo Shaoshang was extremely dominant in bed, full of the desire to control.

Though that didn't mean he was rough.

In fact, in matters of intimacy, this man treated her with utmost tenderness.

If his daytime gentleness was a spring breeze caressing her face, then his nighttime gentleness was a scorching wildfire.

When he kissed her, he was always endlessly patient—unhurried, neither too light nor too heavy. When things moved to the main event, he never showed the slightest impatience or rashness.

Like the most patient hunter, the most meticulous craftsman of love, he advanced slowly and firmly, inch by inch, coaxing and guiding. Only when her brows knit faintly, when she bit her lip and couldn't help but cling to him of her own accord, winding around him, begging him through streaming tears—only then would he fully unleash himself and begin a true conquest.

Wen Yinong had known for a long time that her body and Mo Shaoshang's were perfectly compatible.

In her heart, her boyfriend was perfect in every way—except for one thing that troubled her: his stamina was simply too formidable, his energy too boundless.

So formidable and boundless that she couldn't withstand it.

These days, Wen Yinong was frequently reduced by Mo Shaoshang to a flushed-faced, tearfully broken-down mess, teardrops falling in streams. Nearly every morning when she woke, her voice was hoarse.

And the bedroom sheets looked as though they'd been fished out of water, day after day.

Just like that, six days flashed by.

This day was the weekend, and Wen Yinong had time off.

After lunch, the sunshine was perfect, spilling warmly across the balcony. She picked up the washed and spun-dry bedsheets, carried the washbasin, and headed up to the roof.

The rooftop drying area was quite spacious, with several parallel clotheslines strung from wire.

Wen Yinong shook out the sheet, draped it over the line, and smoothed out the wrinkles with her hands.

The wind was strong, and the sheet flapped loudly.

Just then, the granny from downstairs also came up to hang laundry. Seeing Wen Yinong, the neighbor greeted her with a beaming smile: "Little Wen, washing sheets again? Anyone can tell you're a girl who loves cleanliness. You just washed them yesterday and you're washing again today—so diligent!"

Wen Yinong was mortified. Her fingers, pinching the corner of the sheet, trembled and nearly slipped.

Scenes from last night surfaced unbidden in her mind.

Steam billowing in the bathroom, mist everywhere, a layer of white condensation on the mirror. The shower hissed, and amid the sound of water there were faint, soft, broken whimpers.

Inside the glass partition, two figures were entwined.

The man's taut, muscular back swelled and flexed, every muscle brimming with power, rising and tensing with each movement like a tireless leopard. His abs tightened, rippling with force, water droplets streaming down the grooves of muscle…

Last night, he had taken her four full times.

From the bathroom to the bedroom bed, and then to the desk in her room covered with cartoon figurines.

She still remembered how, when he lifted her onto it, the plush toys had clattered to the floor. She'd instinctively reached to pick them up, only to have her waist seized from behind, rendered immobile.

The memory cut off there.

Wen Yinong's face burned scarlet. She shook her head hard, not daring to think further, hurriedly finished hanging the sheets, said goodbye to the neighbor granny, picked up the empty basin, and scurried off as though fleeing.

The wind whistled past her ears but couldn't blow away the heat in her cheeks.

Back home, Mo Shaoshang had already returned.

He stood in the entryway changing his shoes, a shopping bag from the downstairs supermarket in hand.

Seeing Wen Yinong's flushed, lovely face, a trace of worry appeared between his brows. His fingers brushed her cheek and found it burning hot.

Mo Shaoshang frowned slightly: "Your face is so hot. Do you have a fever?"

"N-no, I don't…" Wen Yinong's heart was guilty as sin. She tilted her head, trying to dodge his touch.

How could she explain? She could hardly tell him she was having all these physiological reactions because she'd been recalling the details of their intimacy…

But though she wanted to dodge, Mo Shaoshang wouldn't let her.

The man's fingertips caught her chin and, with a gentle yet unyielding force, turned her small face back toward him. He lowered his eyes to study her, his blue-black gaze carefully examining that face.

The girl's eyes darted evasively, her cheeks red enough to drip blood, her gaze moist, the tips of her teeth unconsciously nibbling her lip.

His eyes swept over the flush at the corners of her eyes and the moisture within them. Something occurred to him, and his brow arched ever so slightly.

Then, to verify his guess, one hand clasped her soft, slender waist and pulled her into his arms, while the other hand, unhurried and deliberate, reached toward the hem of her skirt.

A cool sensation washed over her.

"…What are you doing? Ah!" Wen Yinong was startled by his action and cried out softly, instinctively trying to flee. But the arm caging her was locked tight, an impenetrable wall.

□*□

The afternoon sun in Jinghai was mild, the old district peaceful and serene.

The little grandson of Auntie Liu downstairs began his piano practice. Fragmented notes drifted faintly into the surrounding air—halting and stumbling, yet with an innocent, endearing charm.

Something must have been played wrong; the tutor quickly called a stop.

For a moment, all sounds vanished, and the surroundings fell instantly quiet.

In that silence, Wen Yinong heard all the more clearly that ambiguous, wet sound. It grew ever more intense, like spring rain striking banana leaves, or a stream flowing over pebbles.

In less than a minute, white fireworks exploded in her mind. Her body went limp, her teeth unclenched, and she collapsed, drained, into Mo Shaoshang's embrace.

The sofa was right beside them.

Mo Shaoshang laid the girl in his arms gently onto the sofa, then raised his fingers. The well-defined knuckles glistened with moisture, gleaming wetly in the afternoon light.

Wen Yinong's ears burned. She looked away, not daring to watch.

He brought his fingers to her lips and parted them.

Several seconds later.

"What does it taste like?" he asked mildly.

Wen Yinong's heart raced. She released his fingers, forcibly drew a breath to steady herself, and stammered, "…It doesn't taste like anything."

Mo Shaoshang chuckled softly, then lowered his head and kissed her.

Lips and tongues entwined.

His tongue swept past her teeth, gathering the moisture in her mouth, tasting carefully.

It was a good while before they parted.

Having just climaxed once, compounded by the oxygen deprivation of the kiss, Wen Yinong's head spun. In her daze, she heard the man's voice by her ear, saying calmly: "Sweet."

Wen Yinong blinked, not quite understanding, and gazed at him in bewilderment: "What's sweet?"

"Your taste. It's sweet."

Wen Yinong came back to her senses, and her entire head instantly caught fire. She had no words.

The two embraced quietly on the sofa. Sunlight slanted in through the window, falling on their entangled figures. Taozi appeared from somewhere, hopped onto the sofa armrest, crouched there watching them with its head tilted, tail swaying leisurely.

Suddenly remembering something, Wen Yinong poked the man's sexy, protruding Adam's apple with her fingertip and asked, "Oh right, where did you go just now?"

Mo Shaoshang didn't answer.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Ding dong, ding dong.

Suspicious, Wen Yinong gave Mo Shaoshang a light push, got up from the sofa, and walked to the door.

Peering through the peephole, she saw two young people in matching uniforms standing outside—dark blue suit jackets, white shirts, exquisite silk scarves tied at their collars. Both wore beaming, enthusiastic smiles, and each held an elegantly wrapped gift box.

They didn't look like bad people. After hesitating two seconds, Wen Yinong smoothed her hair, straightened her clothes, and opened the door.

"Hello, is this the residence of Ms. Wen Yinong?" the man in front asked with a smile.

Wen Yinong didn't answer directly, instead asking, "What is this regarding?"

"Here's the thing," the uniformed girl replied with a smile. "Someone ordered a haute couture gown for Ms. Wen. It was flown in from Paris just last night."

Wen Yinong was stunned: "A gown?"

"Yes." As the girl spoke, she held the gift box out toward her. "You can open it to inspect. Once you confirm everything is in order, you can sign for it."

Wen Yinong was utterly bewildered, unable to make sense of the situation. She was about to ask whether the two had made a mistake when a long, elegant hand reached out from behind her and calmly took the box.

Mo Shaoshang said evenly, "Much obliged."

The two departed shortly after. The door closed.

Wen Yinong glanced at the gown in Mo Shaoshang's hand, then at Mo Shaoshang, sensing something off. She muttered in confusion, "Aren't all your assets frozen? How can you still buy me haute couture?"

At that, Mo Shaoshang replied with complete composure, "Lin Ke ordered it."

Wen Yinong narrowed her eyes: "Assistant Lin is that generous? This kind of couture gown—could you even get one for less than six figures? That would be awfully upright of him."

"Lin Ke lent me the money," he said, even more calmly, his expression unchanged. "I'll pay him back later."

"…" Wen Yinong arched a brow.

Something felt off, though she couldn't put her finger on exactly what. Unable to figure it out, she simply stopped dwelling on it.

After a moment of silence, she sighed softly: "You've still decided to go tomorrow night?"

"Yes."

"Knowing full well it's a trap, you still go without hesitation?"

"Yes."

Hearing this, Wen Yinong knew his mind was made up and said no more. Instead, she looped her arm through his and broke into a brilliant smile: "Fine. Then we'll go together. Who knows—maybe there'll be some unexpected surprise?"

At her words, a strange dark light flitted through Mo Shaoshang's eyes. Meaningfully, he said, "Yes. Perhaps."

*

The Century Hotel stood in the heart of Jinghai's CBD, one of the city's most luxurious hotels. The sixty-eight-story building was sheathed entirely in dark blue glass curtain walls, like a giant sapphire prism piercing the clouds.

The entire top-floor banquet hall had been reserved tonight by the Rothschild family.

Inside the venue, handwoven Persian carpets covered the floor, their deep red and gold patterns intricate and magnificent. An enormous crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, countless finely cut crystals refracting dazzling light. Renaissance oil paintings hung on the walls—said to be authentic works airlifted from some ancient European castle, framed in hand-carved gilded wood, extravagance taken to the extreme.

Night had fallen heavily, and the venue was filled with elegant guests, a sea of fine clothes and perfumed hair.

The men wore impeccably tailored suits with Windsor knots, every one the picture of a gentleman. The women wore all manner of couture evening gowns—silk, chiffon, embroidered—glittering with jewels, each vying to outshine the rest.

A champagne tower rose from the floor to half a man's height, the golden liquid like a flowing river of gold.

Numerous media outlets had also been invited. Video and camera lenses aimed at every corner, flashes firing one after another, weaving a brilliant sea of stars.

Hushed conversation drifted from the aisles.

"The Rothschild family—heard of them? That old-money European family, the invisible emperors of finance."

"Of course I've heard. A family that rose during Napoleon's era, controlling Europe's financial lifelines for centuries. They say their wealth exceeds the GDP of many nations."

"This acquisition of Mo Corporation is part of their strategic layout in the Asia-Pacific. Tsk tsk. Three generations of the Mo family's legacy, just like that… sigh."

"Shh, keep it down. Young Master Pei and Mr. Rothschild are coming." The group fell silent, resuming their usual elegant composure.

At the center of the banquet hall, an elderly man appeared with unhurried grace. He wore a dark double-breasted suit with a gold brooch pinned to his chest, his hair silver-white but his spirit vigorous.

He was advanced in years, yet that face was aged without being withered—deep-set features, a high-bridged nose. It wasn't hard to deduce that he must have been quite handsome in his youth.

At this moment, a faint smile played at the old man's lips. Genteel and elegant, his entire being exuded the aristocratic air unique to Europe's old-money families.

Enzo Rothschild.

And beside Enzo stood a young, refined middle-aged man.

Pei Xizhou, dressed in formal attire, exchanged pleasantries with the surrounding guests alongside Enzo, composed and graceful in manner.

Before long, Enzo raised his champagne glass and tapped it lightly.

The crisp sound echoed through the banquet hall.

All the guests fell silent, their gazes converging on tonight's host.

"Distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen." Enzo spoke in Italian, rendered for the audience by a simultaneous interpreter. "Thank you all for gracing us tonight. Tonight is not merely a night of celebration, but a night of historic significance."

He paused half a beat, his gaze sweeping the room, then continued, "From this day forward, Mo Corporation will officially be renamed Pei Corporation. At the same time, I will appoint a young and talented individual as Pei Corporation's Global Chief Executive Officer—he is none other than Mr. Pei Xizhou."

Thunderous applause.

Camera flashes fired madly, flooding the venue with light.

Those standing near Pei Xizhou raised their glasses one after another, offering congratulations, their faces piled high with smiles both sincere and false.

"Congratulations, President Pei!"

Pei Xizhou's smile was faint. He responded to each in turn, yet his gaze drifted involuntarily toward the banquet hall's entrance.

He was waiting for someone.

He knew that person would surely come.

In another corner of the banquet hall.

Qiao Mingyi stood side by side with Yue Jiawei, champagne glass in hand. Tonight she wore a gold sequined gown, her makeup exquisite, her red lips seductive—radiant and alluring. Yue Jiawei's hair was slicked glossy, a cigar clamped between his fingers, flicking ash as he puffed clouds of smoke.

"I wonder what Mo Shaoshang is doing now." Qiao Mingyi sipped her champagne, a note of schadenfreude in her voice. "I heard his estate was sealed and all his assets frozen. Tsk tsk. He used to be so glorious—now he probably doesn't even have a place to live, does he?"

Yue Jiawei snorted with laughter: "I heard Pei Xizhou invited him. I'm actually curious whether he'll show up tonight. The mighty head of the Mo family, fallen from heaven to hell in a single day—truly pitiful."

Qiao Mingyi sneered: "And what if he does come? What waves can he make? Mo Corporation is finished, and so is Mo Shaoshang. He's nothing but a stray dog now—who would spare him a glance…"

As the two spoke, the noisy banquet hall went quiet.

As if severed by something, every laugh and every conversation ceased in the same instant.

Qiao Mingyi frowned and followed everyone's gaze.

At the entrance of the banquet hall, two figures were approaching gracefully.

The man was exceptionally tall, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, his suit impeccable, his features cold and profound, his contours sharp—possessing an innate nobility and aloofness. Behind gold-rimmed glasses were a pair of blue-black eyes, utterly devoid of emotion yet so deep one dared not meet them.

Beside him was a very young woman. She wore a smoky-pink silk gown, its skirt cascading like flowing water, her long hair swept up into a soft bun. Without excessive adornment, only the lightest touch of makeup, she was already lush and enchanting, beautiful beyond compare.

The girl held the man's arm, and the two walked side by side at an unhurried pace.

Strange expressions crossed the faces of everyone present as they sized up the newly arrived pair.

"Who is that?" someone whispered to their neighbor.

Someone recognized him: "Th-that's Mo Shaoshang?!"

"Shh! Calling his name so openly—are you tired of living?"

"What's there to fear? You still think he's the head of Mo Corporation? The Mo family is about to change hands. What is he even doing here—just asking for misery?"

"Mo Shaoshang? His scandal with the mistress exploded all over the internet. Don't tell me this woman is the homewrecker?"

"Tsk tsk tsk. Passing up a fiancée like Miss Qiao to cheat with some fox spirit with no family, no background—how stupid can you get."

"Isn't that the truth. If he hadn't offended Miss Qiao, maybe the Qiao family would have helped him. All you can say is fortune's wheel turns—a fallen phoenix is worth less than a chicken."

Those whispered words stabbed into Wen Yinong's ears like spikes. Her fingers curled in involuntarily.

Her emotions were extraordinarily tangled—anger, grievance, and an indescribable ache for the man beside her.

Someone so proud, so far above everyone else, now stood here, discussed in the vilest language by these people, treated as fodder for idle gossip.

What humiliation was this?

A bold member of the media raised a camera and pressed the shutter, snapping several quick photos.

One stone stirred a thousand waves. More media professionals reacted, unwilling to miss this earth-shattering scoop, and began shooting rapidly as well.

The former master of Mo Corporation appearing at the acquisition celebration banquet.

Once this news went out, it would absolutely be the most explosive headline in the finance section.

By now, Wen Yinong could barely take it anymore.

Unwilling for Mo Shaoshang to remain here and be humiliated, she squeezed the hand intertwined with hers hard and said in a low voice, "This banquet is truly pointless. Let's go."

Yet, to Wen Yinong's surprise.

After hearing her words, Mo Shaoshang actually leaned down to her ear and said softly, "Wait a little longer, baby. The good show hasn't started yet."

Wen Yinong was baffled, her face full of confusion: "What good show?"

He stared straight at her without answering.

Meeting the man's deep, calm eyes, Wen Yinong grew even more puzzled, having no idea what he was planning.

Mo Shaoshang's palm stroked her back lightly in reassurance. Then he lifted his gaze across the entire glamorous banquet hall, letting it fall unerringly on the very center at the far end, surrounded by countless socialites.

As it happened, Enzo Rothschild was also looking at him.

Their gazes met in midair like two invisible swords in silent confrontation.

Mo Shaoshang's gaze was calm, indifferent, and cold to the bone.

Enzo drew on his cigar, eyes narrowing slightly, his expression filled with cool mockery.

After studying Mo Shaoshang for a while, he leisurely exhaled a ring of smoke. Then his eyes shifted to Pei Xizhou beside him, delivering a meaningful look.

Pei Xizhou understood. A sinister glint flashed through his eyes, and he nodded at Enzo.

He strode to the raised platform at the center of the banquet hall, came to a stop, and then, facing all the guests and media present, adjusted the microphone and slowly uttered two words: "Everyone."

That voice carried through the microphone to the entire banquet hall. "Before tonight's celebration officially begins, I would like everyone to look at something."

With that, Pei Xizhou withdrew a document from his inner suit pocket and held it up.

Everyone raised their eyes to look.

Under the lights, the document's cover bore a red seal and a serial number. It appeared to be some kind of legally binding document.

"This is an accident investigation report," Pei Xizhou's voice was unnaturally calm, "regarding the car crash that killed my parents over twenty years ago."

A ripple of hushed murmurs immediately spread through the banquet hall.

The guests exchanged looks, no one understanding why Pei Xizhou would bring this up on such an occasion.

"Everyone here probably believes my parents' crash was an accident. I once believed so too." The corner of Pei Xizhou's mouth curved. "Until several years ago, when I obtained this accident investigation report."

As he spoke, Pei Xizhou paused briefly and opened the document.

"The report states it clearly: my parents' car had its brake system deliberately sabotaged. And the person who ordered it was Mo Cunxun."

Mo Cunxun?

The Mo family's late patriarch?!

The banquet hall erupted in an uproar.

"Mo Cunxun, in order to swallow my parents' company, to seize the Pei family's assets, did not hesitate to murder to silence them." Pei Xizhou's voice fell word by word, bone-chillingly cold. "He was a hypocrite through and through. Today, before everyone, I will tear off this sanctimonious family's mask completely, and let everyone see just how hypocritical, how venomous the Mo family truly is!"

As his words landed, the venue exploded.

Every guest was stunned by this sudden revelation, whispers rising one after another. The media's flashes never stopped, aimed at Pei Xizhou—and at Mo Shaoshang in the crowd.

"Heavens, the Mo family actually did something like this?"

"You really can't judge a book by its cover…"

Listening to those murmurs, Wen Yinong's whole body went cold.

So Mo Shaoshang's grandfather had killed Pei Xizhou's parents—and that was why he pressed the Mo family step by step, bent on annihilation?

Was that possible?

By Mo Shaoshang's account, the old man Mo Cunxun had been a man of unbending pride and integrity, who single-handedly resisted the Saints organization his whole life and never compromised, even unto death. Would such a man murder for selfish gain?

No. Absolutely impossible.

Besides, when the elder Peis had their accident, Pei Xizhou had been only a child of a few years. Out of nowhere, how would he come to suspect the Mo family that had adopted and raised him? And where would he get the channels and resources to investigate events from back then?

Having sorted through all her thoughts, Wen Yinong's heart grew ever firmer.

She spoke up gravely, her voice ringing clear, directly cutting off the man on the platform: "Mr. Pei Xizhou, may I ask you a question?"

At these words, everyone's attention converged on the young woman beside Mo Shaoshang.

Pei Xizhou's face showed no expression. He said flatly, "What."

Wen Yinong: "I'd like to ask—how did this accident investigation report come into your hands?"

Pei Xizhou was silent for half a second, then the corner of his mouth lifted in a mocking arc. He scoffed coldly: "How I obtained this report hardly seems to be any of Miss Wen's concern."

"You said it yourself—you were very young when your parents died. By normal logic, a child adopted by his parents' old friend would feel gratitude. Why would he inexplicably suspect the family that took him in?" Wen Yinong said. "If I'm not mistaken, someone guided you."

Pei Xizhou's gaze turned colder: "What exactly are you trying to say."

"On one side, the Mo family that raised you unconditionally. On the other, someone who planted a seed of hatred in a small child—clearly harboring ill intent. Any normal person would choose not to believe the latter, wouldn't they?"

Wen Yinong's voice was level, her expression calm, raising her challenge in the plainest, most common-sense terms—yet it made Pei Xizhou's expression shift slightly.

Almost involuntarily, he turned to glance at Enzo.

Enzo Rothschild's expression hadn't changed in the slightest; he remained as elegant as a medieval aristocrat. But the fingers gripping his cigar suddenly tightened, knuckles whitening, a glacial light showing in his eyes.

Soon, Pei Xizhou's gaze returned to Wen Yinong once more.

"Even if there was guidance, it was only because someone couldn't bear to watch me acknowledge a thief as my father—so they told me the truth."

"And how are you so certain that what you now believe is the truth?" Wen Yinong's volume rose. "What if you were used?"

These words seemed to touch Pei Xizhou's reverse scale. His emotions instantly teetered out of control. "What do you know? You really think the Mo family treated me well? Wen Yinong, I told you long ago—you're too easily deceived by appearances. Whether Mo Cunxun or Mo Jinqian, the ones they loved were always their own flesh and blood—only Mo Shaoshang! Me? I was nothing but a stray dog they happened to pick up off the roadside."

Wen Yinong looked at Pei Xizhou, and in that instant, she found him pitiful, detestable, and tragic all at once.

"I understand now," she said lightly. "The truth about what happened back then—you don't actually care about it at all. Let me analyze this from a psychological perspective: because Mo Shaoshang possessed everything you craved—an intact family, the love of parents and elders—you projected your hatred for your own broken family directly onto him."

She paused, her voice growing fainter yet more cutting: "So-called hatred and revenge are just an excuse. Because you needed a reason to rightfully bite the hand that fed you, a way to let your conscience rest a little easier."

"Shut up!" Violent fury burst from Pei Xizhou's eyes. "My parents were murdered by the Mo family! The evidence is ironclad!"

Just then, an extremely soft laugh suddenly sounded.

Wen Yinong's gaze shifted. She turned to look beside her.

It was Mo Shaoshang, who had said not a single word from start to finish.

At this moment, the corner of that man's mouth curved slightly, his eyes full of amusement, as though he had witnessed something utterly ridiculous—he laughed, low and quiet.

The laughter was clearly very soft, like a night breeze passing over a lake's surface, yet in this powder-keg atmosphere it was jarringly shrill.

Pei Xizhou glared viciously at Mo Shaoshang, fingers clenching into fists, his eyes brimming with hatred: "What are you laughing at?"

It was a good while before Mo Shaoshang finally had his fill of laughing. The mirth vanished from his face, and the gaze he turned on Pei Xizhou was cold and utterly without ripples. He said calmly, "Sometimes I am genuinely curious, Pei Xizhou—how can a person be as stupid as you?"

"You—!"

Just then, footsteps sounded once more from the venue's entrance.

A line of impeccably dressed young elites strode in.

Lin Ke walked at the very front, holding a document with a dark blue cover. What it was, no one knew.

"Sir."

Lin Ke walked up to Mo Shaoshang and called out respectfully, then turned to face the crowd, raising the document in his hand. "Everyone—what I hold is also the accident investigation report from the Pei family's major car crash back then. Only, what it says seems to differ somewhat from what Mr. Pei described."

Pei Xizhou's pupils contracted violently.

Lin Ke opened the document. On every page, the text, official seals, and data were all clearly visible.

"The report in Mr. Pei Xizhou's hand is a forgery," Lin Ke said. "This is the original investigation report issued by the police back then."

As he finished speaking, Lin Ke stepped aside, and a white-haired elderly man emerged from the crowd. He wore a plain dark jacket, his face lined with wrinkles, but his eyes remained clear, sharp as a hawk's.

"This is the criminal police officer who handled that accident back then," Lin Ke introduced to the crowd. "The retired Officer Zhou—Captain Zhou."

The old officer coughed once and said slowly, "That's right. The car crash of Pei Zhiyuan and his wife twenty-four years ago—I handled that case."

The banquet hall was deathly silent.

"For that crash, we examined the scene, inspected the vehicle, questioned witnesses, and gathered every possible piece of evidence. Our final conclusion: the brake system had deteriorated with age, and combined with rain-slicked roads, the vehicle lost control. There was no trace whatsoever of human sabotage."

At those words, Pei Xizhou's face turned paper-white in the blink of an eye.

"Actually, all these years, I long anticipated there would come a day when I'd need to step forward. So I've been waiting." Captain Zhou looked at Pei Xizhou, his gaze veiled and complicated. "Because even before my retirement, someone came to me and asked me to alter the investigation report. I refused."

Then the old officer drew a USB drive from his pocket and held it up.

"This contains all the original materials from back then—scene photographs, inspection records, witness testimony. I can take responsibility for every word I've said."

Pei Xizhou stumbled back a step.

That refined, jade-like face went from paper-white to ashen. His lips trembled, his fingers shook, his whole person as though struck by some enormous, crushing blow, unable to recover for a long time.

"No…" he murmured, talking to himself, "no, impossible… you're all in collusion to deceive me… you're all liars…"

Suddenly, something occurred to Pei Xizhou, and he jerked his head up to look at Enzo.

As if hoping for one last lifeline to descend and tell him that all these years his revenge had not been wrong, that he had not been wrong…

Over there, Enzo Rothschild's expression finally changed.

He stubbed out his cigar, rose to his feet, and stared darkly at everything unfolding before him.

"No, no. My parents were murdered by the Mo family!" Pei Xizhou spoke again, his voice abruptly rising, as if persuading others—or rather, persuading himself. "Ironclad evidence! Ironclad evidence!"

Lin Ke looked at him indifferently. Half a second later, he drew yet another document from the file bag.

"These are the records of financial transactions between Mr. Enzo Rothschild and the authentication agency that forged the document. Every sum, every cent, all listed here." He casually tossed the document to Pei Xizhou. "See for yourself."

Pei Xizhou picked up the document with trembling hands, skimmed it hastily, and his eyes nearly split with fury.

"Enzo Rothschild had old grievances with Mo Corporation going back years," Lin Ke continued, his tone devoid of all emotion. "The truth is: Mr. Rothschild, in order to strike at Mo Corporation, forged an accident investigation report, then exploited Mr. Pei Xizhou's vengeful psychology to induce him into launching a retaliatory campaign against the Mo family."

The people in the banquet hall were so shocked they couldn't speak, couldn't react at all.

Pei Xizhou staggered back several steps, his legs buckled, and he sank to his knees on the floor. His eyes were wide, his pupils filled with disbelief. He shook his head, lips moving, wanting to say something, but no sound came out.

Fake… all of it fake?

Everything he'd done these years, the vengeance he thought he was exacting, the justice he thought he was restoring—all of it fake?

He had been deceived, used.

From beginning to end, he had been nothing but a chess piece used by others against the Mo family…?

At this moment, seeing the situation turning against him, Enzo Rothschild signaled to the bodyguards beside him, attempting to slip away quietly under their escort.

However, the group had barely reached the banquet hall's side door when their path was blocked by a line of young men in crisp uniforms.

These officers stood ramrod straight with cold, imposing auras—the pressure was immense. Enzo's heart lurched with panic. But he was, after all, a figure of stature, weathered in all manner of storms, and he quickly composed himself, saying something in Italian with a smile.

The interpreter beside him immediately stepped forward with a beaming smile: "Officers, we're holding a banquet here. May I ask what brings you? Mr. Enzo says, if it's convenient, he'd like to invite you all in for a few drinks."

"No need."

The middle-aged officer at the front produced a police ID and an arrest warrant, saying expressionlessly, "Mr. Enzo Rothschild, upon investigation, you are suspected of forging legal documents, commercial fraud, and manipulating markets through illegal means to maliciously acquire enterprises. This is an arrest warrant. Please come with us."

Hearing this, the smile at the corner of Enzo's mouth stiffened slightly. He quickly switched to a bewildered, innocent expression: "Officer, this must be a misunderstanding. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Whatever it is, you can say it at the station." The other party was implacable, directly snapping handcuffs onto Enzo.

The clink of metal rang out with particular clarity in the silent banquet hall.

The composure on Enzo's face finally cracked at the seams. He said angrily, "I want to see my lawyer!"

"No problem." The middle-aged officer's face was ice. "And to my knowledge, you also appear to be connected to multiple child disappearance cases in Europe from decades ago. Going forward, you may be staying in China for quite a while."

Enzo's face went completely black.

He whipped his head around to look in a certain direction.

The vast banquet hall had long since fallen utterly silent. Amid the center of the crowd, the cold, impeccably suited young man met his gaze, the corner of his mouth curved, one brow faintly raised.

In that single instant, Enzo's pupils contracted violently.

A trap…

Mo Shaoshang had long known there was a problem with the investment project Sun Dafu recommended—so he'd gone along with it, laying his plans in advance, letting Enzo believe the Mo family had completely collapsed, letting him believe the Saints organization, built by the Rothschild family's own hands, could rest easy, causing him to lower his guard and come to China to acquire Mo Corporation.

Thereby cementing the facts of his financial crimes on Chinese soil, drawing him into the Chinese police's dragnet—and conveniently borrowing the hands of the Chinese police to perfectly bypass the deeply entangled power structures of Europe and America, settling accounts with the "Saints"…

All of it was Mo Shaoshang's scheme!

A heaven-shaking scheme to utterly destroy the Saints!

"I want a lawyer!" Enzo roared with fury, struggling, the handcuffs clanging as he cursed in broken Chinese, "How dare you arrest me—do you know who I am?!"

"No matter who you are," the middle-aged officer said in a deep voice, "anyone who breaks the law within China's borders is subject to lawful arrest by the Chinese police."

Several more officers passed through the crowd and walked straight up to Pei Xizhou.

"Pei Xizhou, you're suspected of financial crimes. Come with us as well."

Pei Xizhou's expression was somewhat dazed. He sat frozen on the floor, taking a good while to process anything.

Then he raised his head and looked numbly at Mo Shaoshang, saying, "So all of this was planned by you."

Mo Shaoshang looked down at him from on high, saying nothing.

"But where exactly did it go wrong…" Pei Xizhou lowered his eyes, murmuring as he reviewed it all. "You clearly signed the consent form. All the funds were transferred into the account I gave you. The financial explosion, the fermenting public opinion, the chain reaction triggering a liquidity run, the stock market crash—every step was clearly flawless. Where exactly did it go wrong?"

Mo Shaoshang's expression was cold. He finally spoke again.

"That transferred fund was traceable, supervised money."

Pei Xizhou: "…"

"Every flow was under supervision." Mo Shaoshang's lips curved coldly. "You thought you'd transferred out Mo Corporation's cash flow. In reality, what you transferred out was the entirety of the funds Enzo Rothschild injected for this acquisition."

Pei Xizhou's hands and feet went ice cold, his lips draining completely of color, turning deathly pale.

"The bankruptcy, the seizures—including every document you saw, every seal, every news headline." Mo Shaoshang looked at him, his gaze as calm as if regarding a dead man. "All of it was what I let you see."

"Otherwise—without my tacit permission, what made you think you could ever get close to Wen Yinong?"

The banquet hall was dead silent.

Pei Xizhou's eyes were wide, Mo Shaoshang's cold, indifferent face reflected in his pupils. He opened his mouth, wanting to speak, but his throat felt gripped by something, able to produce only a dry rasping.

He had lost.

Lost utterly and completely.

His supposedly flawless scheme had been nothing but a joke—from the moment he began deliberately approaching Wen Yinong, he had already walked into Mo Shaoshang's trap.

Mo Shaoshang had feigned deception, turning the scheme against itself while laying plans in secret—exploiting everyone's human nature, manipulating everyone's psychology, even manipulating financial markets, media, and every arena of public opinion, creating the perfect illusion of Mo Corporation's crushing defeat!

Why…

Enormous pain and fury swallowed Pei Xizhou whole.

In this entire life, he had only wanted to beat Mo Shaoshang once.

Why couldn't he win even once?

Why?!

A few minutes later, Pei Xizhou, handcuffed, was escorted toward the banquet hall's exit by two officers, one on each side. His entire being was like a walking corpse, utterly drained of spirit, his steps unsteady, his eyes hollow.

As he passed by Mo Shaoshang's side.

The noble, gentlemanly man suddenly lowered his voice and said something to him in Italian.

At those words, Pei Xizhou's entire body jolted violently. His pupils contracted sharply, then dilated sharply, as if something had struck the deepest place in his soul.

"You—!"

He roared, struggling frantically, lunging at Mo Shaoshang, the handcuffs clashing with piercing metallic sounds. The officers held him down firmly and dragged him out the banquet hall doors.

The shrill roars echoed down the corridor, growing fainter and fainter.

Until finally they disappeared.

Taken away along with him were Han Minshan, Sun Dafu, Yue Jiawei, and Qiao Mingyi.

Han Minshan and Sun Dafu kept their heads down, their expressions gloomy with regret.

Yue Jiawei and Qiao Mingyi were both spoiled second-generation heirs raised with silver spoons—where had they ever seen a scene like this? The two were terrified white, their bodies gone soft, practically carried out by the officers. Qiao Mingyi's tears carved two black streaks through her exquisite makeup, and she was still crying out, "My dad will get lawyers! You can't arrest me! My dad is—"

The banquet hall doors closed behind her, sealing her voice outside.

An absurd farce had finally drawn to a close.

Lin Ke stood at the center of the banquet hall, cleared his throat, and spoke in a steady, powerful voice: "Everyone—Mo Corporation has finished cleaning house, and everything has returned to normal. The 'bankruptcy' and 'seizures' reported in the news were all strategies we set to draw out the mastermind behind the scenes. Mo Corporation's operations are entirely as usual, and shareholders' interests will not be affected in any way."

The guests exchanged looks. Some sighed with relief, some wore expressions of sudden enlightenment, some murmured among themselves.

The guests who had spoken so viciously earlier now turned green and pale one after another, so embarrassed they wished they could burrow into a hole.

Just then, a low, cool voice rang out.

"Additionally, there are two more matters."

Everyone raised their eyes toward the eternal and only focal point of this arena of fame and fortune.

Mo Shaoshang stood where he was, turning slightly to face all the cameras and all the gazes, and spoke. He didn't even need a microphone—that aura of command, needing no external aid, was like an invisible blade; with one light stroke, it severed all the noise into nothingness.

"Regarding the false rumors circulating online recently, I need to clarify them here."

As he spoke, his gaze turned to the young woman beside him, the coldness in his eyes melting away, leaving only boundless tenderness.

"Miss Wen Yinong is not any so-called 'third party.' She is my one and only lover, the partner I have chosen for this lifetime. I will not permit any words that harm her to exist in any form. Here, I demand that all media outlets that published false information immediately delete the relevant content and issue public apologies."

The man's tone was exceedingly calm, yet his pressure seeped into every inch of air.

Wen Yinong stood beside him, her fingers unconsciously clutching his sleeve, her heart racing.

She had never imagined that at such a moment, before so many eyes and cameras, he would say these words, shielding her from all the storms and malice.

Spoken so lightly—yet heavy as a thousand jun, thunderous as ten thousand catties.

"That is the first matter." As Mo Shaoshang spoke, he turned to face Wen Yinong. "The second concerns only Miss Wen."

Wen Yinong's gaze flickered.

The man lowered his eyes, his blue-black gaze looking straight into hers.

The lights illuminated that cold, sculpted profile. Before the witness of countless gazes, he drew a velvet box from his inner suit pocket.

Wen Yinong nearly held her breath.

And then, Mo Shaoshang went down on one knee.

The banquet hall boiled over once more. Flashes fired in waves, shutter sounds merging into one continuous stream. Every guest's eyes went wide, staring at the scene before them.

Wen Yinong, too, lowered her eyes slightly, gazing deeply at the man kneeling before her.

His gaze was fathomless, like two bottomless oceans, his spine straight as a pine—even kneeling, he showed not a trace of humility.

The velvet box opened. Inside lay a dazzling pink diamond ring.

"This ring—I prepared it a long time ago." He gazed at her and said softly, "The night I went to Toulouse to find you, this ring was on me. I meant to propose to you, but… I didn't have the courage."

"…" Wen Yinong raised a hand to cover her lips, heat welling in her eyes.

"Wen Yinong, my soul is a dead sea, and you are the tide I've waited for far too long—the only light in my darkness." Crimson flickered faintly in Mo Shaoshang's blue-black eyes. His voice was hoarse, solemn beyond measure. "Please marry me. Give me the chance to love you, cherish you, and treasure you forever."

Completely beyond her control, tears surged from Wen Yinong's eyes.

She opened her mouth. There were so many things she wanted to say.

She wanted to ask why he hadn't told her beforehand, wanted to ask why he'd chosen this chaotic moment, wanted to ask whether he had planned all of this from the start.

But a thousand words all jammed in her throat, and not a single one could squeeze out.

She could only look at him—at her own sole reflection in those blue-black eyes, at that deep blue in his gaze which she had once feared so much she'd tried to flee, and which, now that she understood it, held only a tenderness she loved to the bone.

A long time passed.

As if an entire century had gone by.

Wen Yinong bent down and softly kissed the man's thin, smooth lips, answering him in a husky voice: "…I will."

The wedding ring encircled the girl's slender, porcelain-white ring finger.

The beautiful couple kissed passionately.

The banquet hall went quiet for a beat, then erupted in thunderous applause.

Within that applause was sincere blessing, opportunistic flattery, and genuine awe at this heaven-shaking reversal.

Wen Yinong could hear none of it. She heard only her own heartbeat, and the man's murmur pressed against her ear: "Sei entrata nella mia vita senza chiedere il permesso, e ora non posso più vivere senza di te. Ti amerò finché il mare esisterà."

Beautiful little deer, you barged into my forest without asking permission—and now I can no longer live in a world without you.

I will love you, deeply, forever.

Until the seas run dry and the rocks crumble. Until death do us part.

*

The tumultuous night finally came to an end.

All the clamor, the schemes, the calculations, the hatred… all of it drew to a close on this night, scattering with the wind.

Mo Shaoshang took Wen Yinong's hand, and they walked out of the hotel's main doors.

Late-night Jinghai, the wind very cool. The winter streets held few pedestrians—only the two of them, and their overlapping shadows.

A black Rolls-Royce followed the pair soundlessly, gliding unhurriedly a few meters behind, its headlights casting a warm glow on the road.

As they walked, Wen Yinong suddenly stopped.

"What is it?" Mo Shaoshang turned his head to look at her.

Wen Yinong turned around, tilted her face up, and stared at him fixedly. In those dark, lustrous eyes were lamplight, moonlight—and a small trace of grievance and complaint that seemed long bottled up.

"Comrade Rosalini," she said gravely. "Honestly. What you pulled just now—wasn't that a bit too sudden?"

Mo Shaoshang arched a brow slightly.

"In front of all those people, and all that media—you just knelt right down, and suddenly produced an engagement ring too…" Toward the end, Wen Yinong's voice grew smaller and smaller, and her ears grew redder and redder. "I was completely unprepared. How was I supposed to answer?"

"You answered." Mo Shaoshang said evenly. "You said yes."

"That's because—because!" Wen Yinong's face grew redder still. It took her several seconds to continue, "That's because with so many people watching, I couldn't embarrass you by refusing."

Mo Shaoshang looked at her, a faint arc curving at the corner of his mouth. "So Teacher Wen means to say—it doesn't count?"

"Of course it doesn't count." Wen Yinong turned her face away, her tone coquettish. "Who proposes like that? No flowers, no time given to prepare, no good friends to witness it, and no…"

The rest of the words could no longer come out.

Because Mo Shaoshang reached out, gently caught her chin, and turned her face back.

"What kind of setting does Teacher Wen want for a proposal?" he asked, his voice low and tender, the lamplight reflected in his blue-black eyes like stars surfacing from the deep sea. "A yacht party, a skydive, or a romantic French dinner in the sky?"

Wen Yinong blinked, and the corners of her mouth slowly curled up into a sweet arc.

Suddenly she stood on tiptoe, pecked him lightly on the lips, then stepped back, her eyes sparkling bright.

"Figure it out yourself."

With that, she turned and continued walking ahead. Her steps were light, her skirt swaying gently in the night wind. After a few steps, she stopped again and looked back at him.

"Come on. I still have so many things I want to ask you."

Looking at the young woman's gentle smile, Mo Shaoshang's gaze went very deep. The night wind passed between them, carrying winter's chill, yet he didn't feel cold at all.

His chest was full of scalding warmth.

He strode forward and caught up with her.

"Oh right." Wen Yinong turned her head to look at him. "What did you say to Pei Xizhou at the end? Why was he so furious?"

Mo Shaoshang took her hand, fingers interlacing tightly, and said, "Thank you."

Wen Yinong didn't process it: "Hm?"

"What I said was 'thank you.'"

"Why would you thank him?" she asked, puzzled.

"If not for Pei Xizhou, how could I have turned his scheme to my advantage, moved into your home, regained your tender favor, and earned Uncle and Auntie's approval?" Mo Shaoshang's tone was casual. "Naturally I should thank him."

At these words, Wen Yinong finally saw the light.

A few seconds later, unable to bear it any longer, she raised her hand and swatted him, scolding, "You—how can you be so awful? You even kept it from me! Do you know how worried I was about you, how much my heart ached for you?"

Mo Shaoshang reached out and pulled her into his arms, his chin resting against the top of her head. "I'm sorry. Making you worry for me—that was my fault."

Wen Yinong broke free and deliberately turned her back to him, ignoring him.

"At the time, the enemy was in the open while I was in the shadows, so I had to act with extraordinary caution." He wrapped his arms around her from behind, his sharply defined jaw resting lightly against her bare, slender shoulder, his words gentle, coaxing softly, "Be good. Don't be angry."

Presented with this reasoning, Wen Yinong's stance softened somewhat.

Indeed.

Back then, Pei Xizhou had been able to find her home, which meant he knew Mo Shaoshang's movements well.

If the act hadn't been played to the hilt, it truly might have all been for nothing.

Thinking this, her heart softened once more despite itself. She pressed her lips together, then suddenly turned around, wrapped her arms around Mo Shaoshang, and bit down on the man's protruding Adam's apple.

The little thing was ruthless about it, using all her strength.

In an instant, pain shot to Mo Shaoshang's nerve endings. He sucked in a sharp breath of cold air, simultaneously feeling an indescribable itch. The Adam's apple was a sensitive spot, and the mingled numbness and itch made his breathing abruptly heavy.

Sensing the man's muscles tensing, Wen Yinong confirmed he had felt the pain. Only then did she release her teeth, let out a soft hmph, and pressed her cheek softly into the hollow of his neck: "Fine. Considering your difficulties, I'll grudgingly forgive you."

Mo Shaoshang smiled, lowered his head, and rubbed the tip of her small nose affectionately with his high-bridged one: "Thank you, my wife."

"…" Wen Yinong's face instantly heated. "I already said the proposal just now doesn't count. What are you randomly calling me?"

Mo Shaoshang was quiet for a moment, then amended: "Thank you, baby."

Rarely seeing this man so obedient and well-behaved, Wen Yinong's mood suddenly turned marvelous. Her lips curved: "That's more like it."

Just then, sensing something, she raised her head.

In the sky, tiny, icy somethings drifted down onto Wen Yinong's forehead, the tip of her nose, her cheeks. She blinked, and another flake fell, dampening her lashes.

"It's snowing," she said in delight.

In the halo of the streetlamps, each snowflake was gilded with warm orange light, every one slowly spinning, falling—like a grand welcoming ceremony.

Wen Yinong stretched out her hand and caught one.

The snowflake landed in her palm, its icy touch lasting only an instant before melting into a tiny droplet. She caught flake after flake, having the time of her life, as if she had returned to childhood.

One step away, Mo Shaoshang watched her quietly, a faint smile in his eyes.

"Want to play too?" the girl suddenly turned back and called softly, beckoning. "Try it? It's really fun."

So Mo Shaoshang stepped forward with a smile, imitating her, raising his hand to catch the drifting snowflakes.

Amid the sky full of flying snow, Wen Yinong suddenly said, "Rosalini."

Mo Shaoshang answered, "Hm?"

"Every year from now on, when the first snow falls, we have to be together."

"Not just when the first snow falls." He gazed at her and corrected in a low voice, "Every day, every minute, every second—we'll be together."

"Mm!"

The two smiled at each other.

The snow fell soundlessly.

Jinghai's first winter snow descended on this night. It covered rooftops, covered streets, covered the entire city. And it covered all the past, all the pain, all the partings and reunions.

And then, in this world of pure white, all things welcomed a brand-new rebirth.

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Author's Note: Dear readers, the main story ends here! Thank you for accompanying Nongnong and Momo all the way to this point! 🎉 Don't worry—there will be tons of bonus chapters! The hidden plot threads will be revealed in the upcoming extras, and there will be plenty of sweet daily fluff! Also, if there are any scenarios you'd like to see, feel free to place your orders in the comments! Love you all 😘

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Celebrating the end of the main story with red envelopes for everyone!

Bonus chapters begin tomorrow morning at 08:08:08.