He's So Scary.

Early September, the afternoon sun was warm and cozy.

Wen Yicong stood by the Fountain Roundabout, looking down at her phone to check a text message, when she felt a sting in her eyes—her lashes were wet from a splash of water.

She rubbed her eyes instinctively.

When her vision cleared, she focused again on the phone screen.

The latest message in her inbox was from an unfamiliar number: [The car picking you up will arrive in seven minutes.]

After reading it, Wen Yicong replied politely: [Okay. I'm by the roundabout at Silver Ring Plaza, wearing a white shirt.]

The message sent, and a reply came quickly: [Okay.]

She turned off the screen, let out a quiet breath, and looked up to wait.

Seven minutes later, a sleek, spotless black sedan turned off the main road, gliding silently to a stop in front of her.

Wen Yicong blinked.

She didn't know much about cars, but this one's emblem was striking—a cold, silver statue with two stacked 'R's.

It looked like...

A Rolls-Royce?

As she was pondering this, the rear door opened smoothly, and a young man in a suit stepped out gracefully.

He was handsome, with a meticulous, scholarly air about him. He looked her over, frowned almost imperceptibly, and said hesitantly, 'Are you Teacher Wen?'

Wen Yicong smiled. 'I am.'

The young man seemed surprised and studied her again.

In the bright sunlight, the girl stood by the fountain, her fair, delicate face illuminated, revealing the soft fuzz on her skin. When she wasn't smiling, she was quiet and gentle; when she smiled, she was vivid and radiant, making everything around her fade into the background.

Unexpectedly young and beautiful.

Too young, too beautiful. She looked like a college student. If she hadn't confirmed it herself, he would have found it hard to associate such a face with words like 'teacher' or 'expert.'

With a shift in his thoughts, the young man spoke again, his voice warm: 'Hello, I'm Mr. Mo's assistant, Lin Ke.'

'Hello.'

'Please get in, Teacher Wen.'

'Thank you for the trouble.'

Wen Yicong smiled slightly, already guessing this was the person she'd been texting with over the past few days. She relaxed a bit and got in as instructed.

The car started smoothly.

Just then, her phone buzzed with a new WeChat message. She opened it.

The sender was saved in her contacts as 'Principal Zhang Yao.'

[Good luck with the interview.]

Wen Yicong puffed out her cheeks and let out a quiet breath. After a moment's thought, she replied: [Principal, I should be fine, right?]

Principal Zhang Yao: [Relax. The interview isn't a test; it's just for the employer to get to know you in advance. Believe in yourself.]

Wen Yicong clenched her fist: [Mm!]

*

Wen Yicong was a special education teacher, previously working at the 'Star Bridge Children's Rehabilitation Center' in Jinghai.

A week ago, Principal Zhang Yao of the rehabilitation center called Wen Yicong to her office and told her that a parent of a child with Autism Spectrum Disorder was looking for a live-in rehabilitation teacher. The requirements were many and high, but the pay was three times the normal salary. She asked if Wen Yicong was interested.

The principal added earnestly, 'I'm entrusted with a task. This child's parent is a friend of my doctoral advisor. My advisor trusts me, so of course I have to recommend the best candidate.'

'Xiao Wen, you have solid skills, patience, and a gentle nature. Among the younger generation at Star Bridge, you have the highest professional level. You won't let us down.'

From the day Wen Yicong joined Star Bridge, the principal had taken a liking to her. Besides giving her high praise professionally, she also offered life advice from her own experience.

In short, the principal saw Wen Yicong in a favorable light, liked her, and always thought of this outstanding young woman first for any good opportunity.

At the same time, as a children's rehabilitation therapist with years of experience, Wen Yicong had served many special-needs children and their families, earning a good reputation in the field.

After the conversation, she went home, hugged her chubby cat, and rolled around for three days before giving the principal a definite yes.

Three times the normal salary...

Three times.

With such high pay, what was wrong with the employer having a few more demands? What was wrong with higher requirements? Wasn't it deserved? How could the employer be at fault?

Wen Yicong felt she had to be up to the task.

However, when the Rolls-Royce's route left the city and headed straight into a highly private wooded area, her anticipation and eagerness for the triple salary wavered, replaced by a growing sense of doubt.

This...

This seemed to be the road to Nanjiao?

After thinking for about three minutes, she tried to speak, asking the young man beside her, 'Assistant Lin, where is Mr. Mo planning to interview me?'

Lin Ke's smile was distant and refined as he replied, 'Nanjiao, Mo Family Manor.'

Wen Yicong was slightly startled.

Her family background was ordinary, but the name 'Nanjiao' was thunderously famous—everyone in Jinghai knew it: overlooking the bustling city, land as precious as gold, said to have been a gathering place for Jinghai's elite since before the founding of the nation.

Those who could claim a place in Nanjiao couldn't even be nouveau riche.

They had to be families with centuries of accumulated wealth and deep roots...

The daily rate for a live-in rehabilitation teacher was high, and a family offering triple the salary must have considerable means. Combined with this expensive car, Wen Yicong had already guessed the employer was well-off.

But she hadn't expected it to be this well-off.

As her mind wandered, the Rolls-Royce slowed, and a grand wrought-iron gate came into view.

What Assistant Lin called 'Mo Family Manor' was less a manor and more an ancient kingdom hidden beside a modern city.

On either side of the driveway were meticulously manicured lawns, ancient trees with striking shapes, and in the distance, the outlines of a glass greenhouse and a racetrack. The main building was a villa blending European classical and modern minimalist styles, equally vast, with white stone reflecting a cold, hard sheen in the sunlight.

Soon, the Rolls-Royce stopped smoothly at the main entrance. Roman columns cast huge, heavy shadows.

Wen Yicong took a deep breath, followed Assistant Lin out of the car, stepped onto the marble steps, and entered the villa one step at a time.

The interior design was opulent yet cold, the air filled with a hollow chill, and the echoes of footsteps were clearly audible.

Listening to those echoes, Wen Yicong felt an inexplicable unease.

In a daze, she even had the illusion that she was a drop of water straying into a vast, deep ocean, crushed by the magnificent, silent space until she could barely breathe.

The materials the principal gave her only contained the child's medical history.

They showed that the employer's child was named Airi, four and a half years old, diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder, with last year's ADOS score indicating moderate autism. He had lived in Italy since birth, returned to China just last month, and had been receiving rehabilitation training, but with little effect.

As for the employer's family and background, there was almost nothing.

As her thoughts scattered, Wen Yicong followed Lin Ke, feeling increasingly uncertain about the upcoming interview.

Just then, Assistant Lin stopped in front of a heavy, dark wooden door.

'Mr. Mo is waiting for you inside.'

Then, Lin Ke raised his hand and knocked twice gently, his expression and tone respectful: 'Sir, the teacher recommended by Professor Liang has arrived.'

The moment the request was made, two low, indifferent words came from inside: 'Come in.'

Lin Ke turned his eyes, signaling Wen Yicong, and opened the door for her.

Wen Yicong's breath caught. Almost instinctively, she asked, 'Am I going in alone?'

'Yes.'

Ah, but she was nervous.

Wen Yicong appeared calm on the surface but was anxious inside. Gulp, she swallowed slightly.

Beside her, Lin Ke noticed the young therapist's nervousness, curled his lips slightly, and reassured her, 'Don't worry. Mr. Mo is an amiable person.'

...Alright.

She smiled at Lin Ke, steadied herself, and finally stepped inside.

Click, the door closed behind her.

*

This study was huge.

Precisely because the space was so vast, every sound seemed particularly jarring.

The air was mixed with the cold scent of old books and fine wood. Wen Yicong felt dizzy from the cold fragrance lingering in her nose as she crept inward.

As she walked, she looked around.

There were four giant bookshelves in the room, books neatly arranged. The left side of the shelves was in complete shadow, pitch black. On the right, a large ebony desk sat in front of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a meticulously maintained garden.

Behind the desk sat a man.

He wore a pure black shirt, no tie, the top button undone, revealing a patch of firm white skin and the outline of a powerful, defined chest.

He was looking down at a document on the desk, a pair of delicate gold-rimmed glasses perched on his high nose bridge, the chain hanging down, complementing his sharp profile and adding a touch of distant, cool allure.

His features were refined, his contours deep and wild, not purely East Asian.

Hearing her enter, the man didn't immediately look up.

Wen Yicong's heartbeat involuntarily quickened, and her gaze uncontrollably fixed on the dark figure.

This employer was clearly younger than she'd imagined, and also more...

Memorable.

Just then, as Wen Yicong was lost in thought, the man finally looked up.

In that instant, she met his eyes.

Extremely rare blue-black pupils, like the deepest night sky, or frozen deep sea, carrying a predatory edge.

His gaze was indescribable, almost tangible, landing on her skin, easily sending shivers down her spine.

Like being gently licked by a cold snake's tongue.

'Wen Yicong?'

This time, the man's voice was clear, each syllable crushing through the air, like striking cold jade, pouring into her ears.

Wen Yicong snapped back to reality, almost fleeing as she looked away, instinctively avoiding his gaze.

'Yes...'

She replied, trying to make her voice sound calm and professional, 'Hello, Mr. Mo.'

In contrast to Wen Yicong's nervousness, the man was relaxed and elegant. He gestured to the chair in front of the desk, as if casually, 'Sit.'

Wen Yicong sat down. Eyes on her nose, nose on her heart, back straight as a rod.

The man asked flatly, 'What would you like to drink?'

'...No, thank you,' she shook her head. 'I'm not thirsty.'

The next second, the air rustled with the sound of paper.

Mo Shaoshang picked up Wen Yicong's resume from the desk, his eyes quickly scanning it, his tone indifferent: 'Master's in Special Education from Hua University, majoring in Autism Spectrum Disorder intervention, especially proficient in DIR/Floortime model, excellent grades in school, highly praised in practice.'

Wen Yicong's heartbeat quickened.

The man listed her qualifications one by one, his tone as objective as evaluating a parameter.

She could only answer cautiously, adding details about her teaching philosophy and practice.

Occasionally, he would ask one or two extremely professional questions, seemingly casual but hitting the mark.

Wen Yicong responded with full attention, and her stiffness gradually faded.

Outside the window, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves.

'...In fact, many times, we're not just dealing with the child's issues, but also the storms within the parents and family.'

Mo Shaoshang calmly watched the girl before him.

He recalled Professor Liang's evaluation when recommending this therapist: full of patience and love, with strong rapport.

Indeed.

This rehabilitation teacher felt like a ray of light through the window on an afternoon, radiating a soft, non-threatening warmth.

Her skin was clean and fair, her almond eyes gentle and smiling, her pupils a light color like amber soaked in clear water, carrying a power that could calm people.

Occasionally, she'd touch her earlobe with a fingertip or subtly purse her lips. These small gestures were slightly nervous but also endearingly cute.

At that moment, her voice was slow and soft, like a babbling brook in spring, warm and firm, soaking into every inch of the cold space: 'The first step in rehabilitation training isn't to rush to make the child 'better,' but for us to first learn to 'see.' To see their unique way of existing in this world.'

As her words fell, the study fell silent.

After a moment, Wen Yicong pulled herself from her thoughts, sensing something, and lifted her eyes.

And so, two unfamiliar gazes collided again unexpectedly.

Wen Yicong froze.

For a moment, she even thought it was an illusion.

She saw a subtle change in the man's eyes behind his glasses.

No longer purely businesslike calm and flatness.

Deep within those blue-black pupils was an intensely focused, almost pathological scrutiny.

Like a precise, cold instrument, scanning and capturing her body language, micro-expressions, her unconscious habit of touching her earlobe, breaking them down and analyzing them...

In just a few seconds, Wen Yicong snapped back, a chill shooting up her spine.

It didn't feel like being watched by a human, but like being scanned in a jungle by some deadly apex predator.

It wasn't hungry yet, lying quietly in ambush. But predation was its instinct, and it had already recorded every bit of information about you.

Across from her, Mo Shaoshang seemed not to notice the girl's stiffness. His blue-black eyes returned to their usual calm, as if those few seconds of unsettling gaze had never happened, just an unreal illusion.

He smoothly picked up her last topic: 'Airi's situation is special. He is extremely averse to strangers. In the coming days, I'll trouble you to be more attentive, Teacher Wen.'

Hearing this, Wen Yicong quickly composed herself and replied, 'Don't worry, Mr. Mo. I'll do my best.'

'As for the specific salary details, Assistant Lin will discuss them with you.'

'Okay.'

Mo Shaoshang's gaze swept over the girl's fluffy curls, her cheeks flushed with a cherry-pink blush from embarrassment, her full lips with light lipstick, and finally settled on her fair neck.

A very typical Chinese girl.

Gentle, reserved, pretty, slender.

Such a thin neck, like the throat of a young herbivorous deer, couldn't withstand any force of biting. A gentle lick, and it would break.

Mo Shaoshang extended his hand across the desk, politely.

Seeing this, Wen Yicong stood up and carefully shook his fingertips.

A large hand with distinct knuckles, cold and hard, a stark contrast to her soft, warm fingers. The first touch made her shiver slightly.

Wen Yicong withdrew her hand as quickly as possible.

'Then I won't disturb you. Goodbye, Mr. Mo.'

Mo Shaoshang nodded slightly, his gaze already back on another document on the desk. The gold chain on his glasses swayed slightly with his movement, his profile cold, as if no one else had ever been in this room.

The study door opened and closed, and the room returned to dead silence.

Light footsteps faded away, disappeared. Without a trace of hesitation or reluctance.

The sun set, the distant sky as if burned by fire.

After finishing the remaining documents, Mo Shaoshang put down his pen and stood up. His figure, wrapped in a black shirt, was gilded with a matte gold by the afterglow, like a perfect Greek sculpture, or a lion king just ending a hunt.

Suddenly, a strange hissing sound came from the left side of the bookshelf, faint and unreal.

Mo Shaoshang casually turned on a light.

In a corner of the study, inside a special constant-temperature glass tank, a pale snake was slowly crawling along a dead branch, its black tongue splitting the air.

Sinister and deadly, yet elegant.

A few minutes later, Mo Shaoshang took off his white gloves and threw them into the trash. Suddenly, two dings sounded from his phone on the desk, indicating a new message.

He picked up the phone, unlocked it, and checked.

[Wen Yicong: Assistant Lin, Mr. Mo said to discuss the salary with you.]

[Wen Yicong: Also... are you sure Mr. Mo is really amiable? He looks so scary QAQ]

Author's Note:

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New story is here~ A story of a warm, soft, bright sweet girl and a mixed-race, crazy daddy. An absolutely sweet little pastry.

Highlight key point [Don't think the male and female leads just met, it's not slow-burn! The male lead goes all out from the start, sweet enough to kill you]