Next Chapter Enters V

Wen Yicong found the reason Mo Shaoshang gave her unbelievable.

The jade necklace around her neck felt as heavy as a thousand pounds. She refused to give up and still wanted to decline, her voice carrying a barely perceptible hint of panic: "Mr. Mo, you are too kind. Such beautiful jewelry is a treasure in itself; it would look good on anyone. I really cannot accept it."

Mo Shaoshang raised his gaze from the necklace to the girl's clear, stubborn eyes and said, "It is precisely because it is precious enough that it qualifies as tonight's thank-you gift."

Wen Yicong was momentarily stunned, rendered speechless by his almost sophistical logic.

Mo Shaoshang looked at her leisurely and continued, "You do me a favor, and I give you a thank-you gift—it's only natural. Or does Teacher Wen think my gratitude is not worth this necklace?"

"That's not what I meant!" Wen Yicong quickly denied, her cheeks flushing slightly from urgency. "It's just... this is really too valuable..."

She had only accompanied him to a Dinner Party, played the role of his date for a few hours—how could that match such a priceless gift? Wasn't this a bit too much?

Wen Yicong opened her mouth to say something more. Just then, the designer Linda returned, holding an extra shoebox.

Opening it, inside was a pair of satin high heels in the same color scheme as her cheongsam. The design was simple, the lines elegant, without any superfluous decoration, flowing with a soft, lustrous sheen under the light.

Linda walked up to Wen Yicong with a smile and said, "Miss Wen, please have a seat. Let's try on the shoes."

Wen Yicong was not used to being served like this. She instinctively reached out to take the shoes, saying at the same time, "Thank you, I can do it myself."

"This dress is very form-fitting; it's inconvenient for you to bend over," Linda said, and without giving her a chance to refuse, she gently took her slender white arm and guided her to sit on the sofa.

Wen Yicong had no choice but to comply.

The hem of the cheongsam was lifted on one side, revealing a pair of porcelain-white, delicate feet.

Linda was about to crouch down to help Wen Yicong try on the shoes when a male voice came from above, calm yet carrying an invisible pressure: "Faccio io."

Hearing this, Linda paused, a flicker of surprise flashing in her eyes, but she quickly composed herself and respectfully handed over the high heels.

Mo Shaoshang's expression was calm as he took the high heels, bent one long leg, and knelt on one knee.

Wen Yicong was startled by this sudden move, gasping, both suspicious and flustered. Seeing the man lean in, she hurriedly tried to pull her foot back: "No need, Mr. Mo, I can do it myself..."

But before she could finish, she felt a cool touch on her ankle as a large, well-defined hand firmly grasped it.

The slightly calloused fingertips touched the sensitive skin of her ankle. Wen Yicong's face instantly turned crimson, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, almost bursting through her ribs.

Sweat moistened her clenched palms.

She was extremely embarrassed and couldn't help but protest in a low voice: "Mr. Mo, what... what are you doing?"

Mo Shaoshang's expression did not change at all. Without looking up, he said, "Between a male and female date, some necessary physical contact is inevitable. Teacher Wen should get used to it in advance."

It was a perfectly valid and legitimate reason that left no room for refusal.

All her words of refusal were stuck in her throat. Wen Yicong fell silent.

The man's movements were not at all frivolous; they were even gentlemanly and gentle. But the warmth of his palm transmitted through her skin to every nerve, still making her heart thunder.

Wen Yicong could only purse her lips, stiffen her body, and let him personally put the high heels on her feet.

After a moment, both shoes were on.

Mo Shaoshang stood up, returning to his usual aloof and distant demeanor.

Wen Yicong's cheeks were still red. She stood up and tried walking a few steps.

The soles of these shoes were very soft. Although the heels were nearly seven centimeters high, the design clearly followed ergonomics, so they didn't tire the wearer.

She lowered her eyes and squeezed out a few words: "Thank you."

Mo Shaoshang watched Wen Yicong's faintly flushed cheek, said nothing, but extended his right hand to her.

Palm up, it was an inviting gesture.

Wen Yicong understood. She took a deep breath and gently placed her hand into his palm.

Their fingertips touched.

She couldn't help but tremble slightly.

The next moment, the man's long, powerful fingers suddenly closed, completely enveloping her cool, small hand. He took her hand and turned to leave the room.

*

Twilight gathered. The black Rolls-Royce sped smoothly along the road, silent and elegant.

The interior of the car was exceptionally quiet.

Looking out at the rapidly receding stream of lights, Wen Yicong clenched her fingers, her heart a mix of anxiety and anticipation, saying nothing.

Beside her, Mo Shaoshang seemed to sense her unease. He tilted his head slightly and spoke softly: "Teacher Wen, don't be nervous. I'm here for everything."

For some reason, those few casual words, spoken by him, carried a strange power that was reassuring.

Wen Yicong's tense nerves relaxed a little. She smiled at him and nodded.

*

The Dinner Party was held at the Dome Club in the city center.

Stepping into the venue felt like entering another world.

The stunningly high dome was hung with crystal chandeliers, their brilliant light scattering like golden fragments. Amid the fragrance of clothes and the shadows of people, glasses clinked. The air was filled with a mix of high-end perfume, cigar smoke, and wine. Celebrities from all walks of life moved among them—men in suits and leather shoes, exuding extraordinary presence; women in gorgeous dresses and jewelry, radiant and dazzling. Every detail silently showcased the style and depth of high society.

Wen Yicong walked into the venue on Mo Shaoshang's arm. The moment the two appeared, they became the focus of the entire room.

The Mo Group family originated in the late nineteenth century, with deep roots across Eurasia. Its business empire spanned finance, energy, biotechnology, and various cutting-edge manufacturing industries. After four generations of management, it had long surpassed ordinary commercial scope, becoming a behemoth capable of influencing industry rules and international capital flows. The family had always maintained a low profile, rarely appearing in public view.

As the sole heir of this generation of the Mo Group, Mo Shaoshang held not only a business empire but also the political and business networks and absolute say accumulated over several generations.

At this Dinner Party, where celebrities gathered, everyone knew one fact well—there were many participants in the rules, but only one maker and overseer of the rules.

Everyone had their own thoughts.

Over here.

Originally, on the way here, Wen Yicong's heart was pounding. But once she was actually in this world of vanity fair, she calmed down and came to terms with it: these wealthy businessmen and magnates were simply not in her world. She had no stake in them, didn't need to rely on them for a living—what was there to be nervous about?

Except for the employer beside her, she didn't need to mind anyone else's expressions.

Tonight, she only needed to play the role of "Mo Shaoshang's date" and take it in stride.

With that thought, the weight in her heart dissipated. Wen Yicong suddenly felt enlightened. Her back straightened unconsciously, and a composed, appropriate smile appeared on her face.

In a short while, several well-dressed men gathered around.

Among this group were both Chinese and foreigners. They smiled warmly and eagerly chatted and greeted Mo Shaoshang.

Mo Shaoshang's attitude was indifferent. Wen Yicong stood quietly beside him, sipping her champagne in small sips while listening to their conversation.

From their talk, Wen Yicong learned that these people were executives and researchers from a well-known domestic biopharmaceutical company. They had approached Mo Shaoshang to discuss a cooperation project involving a special serum.

Wen Yicong, with a completely learning mindset, focused intently, observing and listening.

Wen Yicong was naturally stunning, and after being meticulously dressed, she was breathtakingly beautiful. Many men present noticed her, their gazes lingering on her intentionally or unintentionally.

At this moment, one of the men, a Latino, took advantage of a break in the conversation and finally couldn't help but ask, "Mr. Mo, forgive my boldness, but may I ask who this beautiful lady is..."

Before Mo Shaoshang could speak, Wen Yicong smiled gracefully and introduced herself first: "Hello everyone, my name is Wen Yicong. I work in special education. I am a friend of Mr. Mo."

Since she was brought by Mo Shaoshang, no one dared to be the slightest bit disrespectful, regardless of her background or profession. They all smiled and praised, "Miss Wen is truly young and promising."

The night deepened outside the window.

People came in waves to greet and toast Mo Shaoshang, an endless stream. Wen Yicong maintained a proper smile, staying by his side, feeling as if she were taking an immersive social observation class on celebrities.

At around nine in the evening, the banquet was halfway through.

Suddenly, Mo Shaoshang seemed to notice something. He bent down slightly, close to Wen Yicong's ear, and said, "Go get something to eat yourself. I'll excuse myself for a moment."

He was too close; his breath trickled into her sensitive ear canal, tickling.

Wen Yicong's cheeks warmed slightly. She instinctively tilted her head to create distance and nodded: "Mm, go ahead with your work."

"Call me if anything comes up."

"Okay."

Mo Shaoshang led Lin Ke and others to the lounge area on the other side of the banquet hall to discuss business.

Seeing this, Wen Yicong quietly let out a breath and began to slowly wander around the venue, eating and drinking.

Turning her head, she saw that next to the champagne tower was a long table laden with all kinds of delicacies.

Wen Yicong picked up a plate and enthusiastically began selecting.

Soon, footsteps approached and stopped beside her.

Wen Yicong turned her head.

The person was tall and imposing, with sharp, three-dimensional features and a head of slightly curly, fluffy black hair. It was the Latino man who had been talking with Mo Shaoshang earlier.

The man held a red wine glass, his eyes smiling as he looked at her, his attitude warm and friendly: "Miss Wen, I was in a hurry earlier and forgot to introduce myself. My name is Sebastien Lopez."

"Ah, hello, Mr. Sebastien." Wen Yicong hadn't expected this person to come over specifically to chat with her. After a few seconds of surprise, she smiled and casually complimented, "Your Mandarin is very standard."

Sebastien laughed heartily, his tone a bit teasing: "I've been in China for eight years now. Besides Mandarin, I can also say a few simple phrases in Cantonese."

Hearing this, Wen Yicong clapped her hands and gave him face: "Impressive."

Sebastien was very interested in the Chinese girl before him. His gaze roamed over her exquisite, beautiful face, and he asked, "Is Miss Wen a local of Jinghai City?"

Wen Yicong nodded and politely returned the question: "And you? Where is your hometown?"

Sebastien: "My original nationality is French. However, I really like China, and I am currently applying for permanent residence in China." Saying this, he sighed dramatically and said gloomily, "I have to say, China's 'green card' is definitely the hardest to get in the world. The review is heartbreakingly strict."

Wen Yicong was amused by this humorous foreigner. Her eyes curved into crescents: "Then I wish you success soon."

The violin music in the air stopped.

The pianist gently closed his eyes, his fingers moving slightly, playing the soothing "Nuvole Bianche."

Not far away.

The business partner was still speaking earnestly.

Mo Shaoshang toyed with a crystal champagne glass, his movements casual and absent-minded. But his blue-black gaze crossed the crowd and landed on the two figures by the champagne tower, lost in thought.

*

Sebastien was knowledgeable and witty. Wen Yicong found him quite congenial to talk to.

When it was time to part, he took the initiative to exchange contact information, saying it would be convenient for future exchanges on Chinese culture.

Wen Yicong thought having another friend wouldn't hurt and gladly agreed.

Ding—

WeChat friend added successfully.

Sebastien felt a quiet joy in his heart, then said reluctantly, "I'll be going now. It was nice meeting you, Miss Wen. Goodbye."

Wen Yicong's alcohol tolerance was average. After a few glasses of champagne, her head was already a bit dizzy. She curved her lips, smiled like a flower, and waved at Sebastien. "Bye-bye."

Sebastien left.

After seeing off her new friend, Wen Yicong rubbed her head, feeling tipsy as she turned around to find a place to sit and rest. Unexpectedly, her high heel wobbled, she lost her balance, stumbled, and with a soft cry, fell straight into a cold, hard chest.

In the blink of an eye, the scent of cedar and cold enveloped her. It was airtight, familiar yet strange.

Under the influence of alcohol, Wen Yicong's consciousness was already fuzzy, but her remaining reason told her she had to pull herself together. She shook her head, forced herself to stand steady, and kept saying, "Sorry, sorry..."

But the next second, her chin was pinched by two long, powerful fingers. The grip was gentle but irresistible, lifting her face.

Her misty eyes met a pair of unfathomable blue-black eyes.

"..."

Wen Yicong was dazed, her eyelashes fluttering twice.

Above her, Mo Shaoshang looked down, staring straight at the girl who had crashed into his arms.

She was truly beautiful.

With drunkenness, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes shimmered with a seductive charm.

They stared at each other for several seconds before she seemed to come to her senses. Looking at him, she tilted her head and asked in a tone that was both naive and tentative: "Mr. Mo?"

Mo Shaoshang then lowered his head, close to her ear, which was red and delicate from the alcohol, and said in a voice only she could hear, "Latino men are very passionate. Aren't they, Wen Yicong?"

Author's note: ---------------------- Next chapter enters V! A super fat chapter will drop at 0:08 AM. Writing is not easy. Thank you, little treasures, for supporting the genuine reading. Random 100 red packets~