Attraction.

At first, Wen Yicong even thought she was still dreaming. She reached out and lightly pinched her arm, and only when the pain hit did she confirm it wasn't a dream.

She frowned slightly, turned back to the bedside, and reached out to pick up the rose, her movements cautious.

The thorns on the stem had been carefully removed, leaving it smooth to the touch. The petals were a vivid red, like velvet, with a hint of deep, dark tones at the edges, adding a touch of mystery.

As her fingertips brushed the petals, she could feel the cool moisture on them, as if they still carried the dew of dawn.

Very fresh.

This excessive freshness made Wen Yicong's heart tighten.

She clearly remembered that when she returned to her room last night, aside from her usual pillow and thin blanket, the bed was empty.

When had this flower appeared?

There seemed to be only one answer—after she fell asleep, someone had quietly entered her bedroom and placed this rose on her nightstand.

This inference coiled around her spine like a cold snake, sending a faint shiver through her.

Then, the bizarre dreams from last night surfaced in her mind. In the dreams, there seemed to be cold moonlight, a cool sensation brushing against her skin, and a pair of scorching, unsettling blue-black eyes…

Could it be?

An absurd suspicion slowly rose from the depths of her heart, carrying an unsettling flutter.

She couldn't think about it anymore.

Wen Yicong shook her head violently, put down the rose, and hurried into the bathroom as if fleeing.

She splashed cold water on her face repeatedly, trying to dispel the inexplicable heat and panic in her heart.

In the mirror, the girl's cheeks were flushed with an unnatural redness, her eyes filled with a startled, bewildered look. She took a few deep breaths, forcing herself to calm down.

After changing clothes, she walked back to the bedside, but her gaze was still involuntarily drawn to that red color.

After a moment's hesitation, she picked up the rose again and opened the door to go out.

The mornings at Mo Family Manor always seemed serene. She descended the spiral staircase covered in thick carpet, and just as she reached the landing, she met someone coming up—Master Heng.

"Good morning, Teacher Wen." Master Heng's face wore its usual smile.

"Good morning, Master Heng." Wen Yicong gave him a slightly strained smile, paused for a moment, hesitated for a few seconds, and then asked softly, "Have you seen Mr. Mo?"

Master Heng's gaze lingered on her face for a moment before shifting away casually. He replied, "The master is in the study."

"Alright, thank you." Wen Yicong thanked him and turned to leave.

Master Heng's voice came again, carrying the warmth and concern of an elder for a younger person: "Breakfast is ready. You can go straight to the dining room when you go downstairs."

"Thank you, Master Heng." Wen Yicong paused, smiled, and said, "I need to see Mr. Mo about something. I'll be down soon."

"Alright." Master Heng nodded slightly and said no more.

After parting with Master Heng, Wen Yicong took a deep breath, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the rose stem. Then she turned and walked toward the study.

The corridor was long, lined with somber classical oil paintings on both sides. The light, filtered through heavy curtains, was dim and quiet, with only the soft sound of her footsteps echoing in the emptiness.

Finally, she arrived at the heavy, dark wooden study door.

The door was tightly shut, like a sleeping beast.

She raised her hand and knocked gently with her knuckles: thump, thump. The sound was somewhat abrupt in the silence.

The next second, a cold voice came from inside, low, calm, with a businesslike casualness: "Who is it?"

Wen Yicong's heart skipped a beat.

She pressed her lips together, which had gone dry, and tried to keep her voice steady: "It's me, Wen Yicong."

The person inside seemed to pause for a very brief moment before responding, "Come in."

Wen Yicong pushed open the door.

The scene inside the study came into view. The faint morning light from outside filtered through the large floor-to-ceiling windows, softened by layers of gauze curtains, casting a pale golden glow over the room.

Mo Shaoshang sat in the center of that glow, wearing glasses, his eyes lowered, focused on the documents in his hands. His tailored black suit fit perfectly, accentuating his tall, straight figure—broad shoulders, narrow waist. Just sitting there, he had an undeniable presence.

Hearing her footsteps approach, the tip of his fountain pen paused briefly before he set it down calmly.

Mo Shaoshang raised his eyes. His blue-black gaze, through the lenses, fell on Wen Yicong, deep as twilight mist, like a profound pool, revealing no emotion.

"Teacher Wen, you're looking for me?"

His demeanor was unhurried, his tone even courteous and polite, but for some reason, the moment his gaze enveloped her, Wen Yicong felt an invisible pressure.

The air seemed to thicken, making it hard to breathe.

She tensed up involuntarily, her fingers holding the rose curling slightly. After a moment of inner struggle, as if she had finally made up her mind, she raised the mysterious rose in her hand and showed it to him, saying, "Mr. Mo, when I got up this morning, I saw this flower on my nightstand."

Mo Shaoshang's expression barely changed; he only raised an eyebrow slightly, signaling her to continue.

His composure made her questioning seem rash and ridiculous.

Wen Yicong steadied herself, forcing herself to meet his gaze, and continued, "How did this flower get into my room? Do you know, by any chance?"

Mo Shaoshang's gaze roamed over her face, as if it had a penetrating quality, easily seeing through her feigned calm. After a moment, he replied in a completely flat tone, "Last night, you mentioned that your favorite flower is the red rose. It so happened that the roses bloomed beautifully this morning, so I picked a bunch and asked Auntie Zhang to put one in your room."

Auntie Zhang?

This answer caught Wen Yicong off guard. She froze, almost blurting out, "Auntie Zhang came into my room this morning?" She paused, her tone carrying a hint of doubt, "Why would Auntie Zhang come in?"

The manor had other staff responsible for cleaning. For no reason, why would Auntie Zhang 'conveniently' enter her room to put a flower?

As her words fell, Mo Shaoshang leaned back casually in his chair, his tall body relaxed, looking at her. He replied smoothly and nonchalantly, "To return your clothes from last night." He paused, then added, "The dress you left in the bathroom."

Clothes?

Wen Yicong stood frozen, her mind going blank for a moment. Then, fragments of last night's memories came flooding back: after showering in the poolside bathroom, she had changed out of her wet dress…

So, Auntie Zhang had already returned her cleaned clothes.

The truth was out.

Simple and perfectly reasonable.

In an instant, a wave of intense embarrassment washed over Wen Yicong. Her cheeks burned as if on fire, and she thought to herself: Her brain had really short-circuited. How could she have had such a bizarre idea?

She actually thought Mo Shaoshang had put the flower there?

She had even confused dreams with reality, suspecting that he had come into her room while she was asleep and…

Realizing she had misunderstood him, Wen Yicong was mortified beyond measure. Her fingers, gripping the flower stem, turned white from the pressure, and her head nearly dropped to her chest. She didn't dare meet the eyes of the man behind the desk.

The rose seemed to have become a hot potato, reminding her of her baseless suspicions.

Across from her.

Mo Shaoshang took in her embarrassment and fluster, a faint smile flickering at the corner of his mouth before disappearing. When he spoke again, his voice was still steady, but it seemed to carry a hint of amusement: "Teacher Wen came to see me just to ask about this?"

Wen Yicong paused, hesitated, then nodded slightly, her voice very soft: "Mm."

"But you seem angry," he said, his tone flat, as if stating a fact.

Wen Yicong's face turned as red as a ripe pomegranate, burning hot. She pressed her lips tightly together, not responding, wanting only to escape this space so awkward it made her want to dig a hole and hide.

But at that moment, Mo Shaoshang stood up.

He was very tall, and standing up, he exuded a strong sense of pressure. As he walked toward her slowly, his long legs carrying him, the scent of him—like a snowy pine forest after a frost—spread through the air, gradually filling Wen Yicong's senses.

Cold, fresh.

It smelled wonderful, making her feel a little dizzy.

In a moment, Mo Shaoshang stopped a step away from her, then leaned down, bringing his face close to hers. His breath almost brushed against her sensitive ear as he asked softly, "Teacher Wen thinks I sneaked into your bedroom."

The distance between them suddenly became very close, so close that Wen Yicong could see the faint reflection on his glasses, his thick, dark lashes, and her own flustered reflection in those blue-black eyes.

Her little secret exposed, she felt even more embarrassed. Without thinking, she denied it, her voice trembling slightly: "No, I didn't think that."

Mo Shaoshang watched her blushing cheeks and ears, and asked calmly, "Then why are you upset?"

This almost intimate atmosphere made Wen Yicong's head spin, making it hard to think clearly. She instinctively took a small step back, trying to create some distance, to escape him, and defended herself weakly: "I'm not upset. I just… I just wanted to know who put the flower in my room…"

Mo Shaoshang didn't speak. He just looked down, his gaze fixed on her face, his eyes deep and unreadable. As if examining her, or perhaps enjoying her fluster.

Silence stretched through the air, each second feeling unusually long.

After a while, Wen Yicong remembered something and couldn't help but say softly, "When I mentioned liking roses yesterday, it was just a casual remark. Mr. Mo didn't need to take it to heart."

Mo Shaoshang said, "But I've already remembered it. I can't pretend I don't know."

"…"

Wen Yicong's heart suddenly trembled, as if struck by something, sending ripples of confusion through her.

He looked at her, his gaze slowly tracing her features, and continued, "The first second I saw this rose, I thought of you."

Hearing this, Wen Yicong's heartbeat instantly lost control, pounding like a drum against her chest.

Her face was so hot it felt numb, her heart both panicked and chaotic. Unsure whether she was afraid of being betrayed by her own thunderous heartbeat or something else, she suddenly lost the courage to stay in the same room with him.

"Thank you for the flower. I'll go downstairs for breakfast now. Excuse me." Wen Yicong lowered her eyes, said this hastily, then quickly turned and walked toward the door, almost fleeing.

But just as her hand touched the doorknob, Mo Shaoshang's voice came from behind again: "Teacher Wen."

Wen Yicong's steps halted, as if a pause button had been pressed. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her wild heartbeat, turned around, and looked at him, her eyes showing confusion.

Mo Shaoshang's expression was calm and unruffled, as if the suggestive conversation from moments ago had never happened. He simply said to her, "Today, Airi needs to take half a day off."

Wen Yicong was surprised by this and instinctively asked with concern, "Is Airi feeling unwell?"

Mo Shaoshang shook his head and replied, "I need to take him out for something."

"Oh." Wen Yicong understood. Though puzzled, she didn't press further. She smiled and agreed, "Alright, I understand. No problem."

*

The morning lessons were a bit more difficult than usual because Airi was distracted, but they ended smoothly.

At lunch, Wen Yicong didn't see Mo Shaoshang. In the afternoon, Assistant Lin Ke returned to the manor to pick up Airi.

Wen Yicong helped the caregiver change Airi into his going-out clothes, then followed them to the front door of the villa.

The black Aston Martin was waiting quietly.

After securing Airi in his car seat, Wen Yicong bent down to meet his eyes.

The little boy was clutching his favorite toy car tightly, his head lowered, his thick, curly lashes covering his blue eyes—similar to Mo Shaoshang's but lighter.

"Airi, be good when you go out to play, okay?" Wen Yicong said with a gentle smile, her voice as soft as a feather brushing by. As she spoke, she reached out and pinched Airi's soft, chubby cheek.

Airi didn't respond, still absorbed in his toy world, his fingers spinning the car's wheels.

Nearby, Lin Ke watched this scene and smiled, "It's clear that Airi really likes Teacher Wen."

Wen Yicong straightened up, stroked Airi's soft curls, and said softly, "They just live on their own planet. That doesn't mean they can't feel kindness from the outside. Their souls are pure and innocent. They can tell who truly treats them well and who truly loves them…"

She paused there, turned to look at Lin Ke, and smiled, "Alright, Assistant Lin. You should get going. Have a safe trip."

"Goodbye, Teacher Wen."

"Take care on the road."

The car door closed, sealing off the inside from the outside. The black sedan drove away smoothly, passed through the manor's large wrought-iron gate, and soon disappeared at the end of the winding, tree-lined road.

Today was indeed a rare good day—clear autumn skies, crisp and bright. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, warm but not scorching.

Wen Yicong and Master Heng stood under the camphor tree, silently watching the car disappear.

After a while, Wen Yicong smiled, withdrew her gaze, and said as if casually, "Airi seems to enjoy going out. He doesn't resist it at all. In future lessons, we can add more outdoor activities. Nature is very healing."

Master Heng just smiled without speaking.

Wen Yicong turned to look at him.

The old butler's graying hair was combed immaculately, and he wore a standard Zhongshan-style uniform. His posture was straight. Time had left its marks on his face but also given him a calm, restrained demeanor.

An idea struck her, and she lowered her voice to ask tentatively, "Master Heng, you've worked for the Mo Family for many years, haven't you?"

"Mm." Perhaps infected by the young girl's warm, bright smile, Master Heng also relaxed a bit, looking out at the garden scenery and saying casually, "I started following Mr. Mo's father when I was in my twenties. I'm very familiar with every plant, every brick and tile here."

Hearing this, Wen Yicong couldn't help but ask further, "Then you must know Mr. Mo quite well too?"

Master Heng, being a shrewd man, immediately sensed something. He turned his head, his eyes calmly looking at Wen Yicong, and asked, "What does Teacher Wen want to know about Mr. Mo?"

His gaze wasn't sharp, but it made Wen Yicong feel a guilty sense of being seen through. She quickly looked away, coughed dryly, and denied it, "Oh, nothing. I was just chatting casually. I wasn't trying to ask you about Mr. Mo."

Master Heng's expression didn't change at all. He remained smiling, deftly steering the conversation away: "Since that's the case, I'll go attend to my duties. Make yourself at home, Teacher Wen."

"Alright, Master Heng, go ahead." Wen Yicong breathed a silent sigh of relief.

After parting with Master Heng, Wen Yicong took a walk alone in the garden.

The autumn garden still had plenty of color, with various chrysanthemums blooming in competition, and the air was filled with a faint scent of grass and wood. However, Wen Yicong's mind was completely absorbed in this tranquility.

The misunderstanding about the rose, and Mo Shaoshang's somber blue-black eyes, kept intruding into her thoughts unbidden.

Unable to shake the turmoil in her heart, she decided to go back to her bedroom.

Once inside, Wen Yicong flopped onto the bed and started playing with her phone. As she was idly scrolling through short videos, a few crisp notification sounds rang out—two new messages on WeChat.

She tapped the green icon and saw a name at the top of her chat list: Jiang Shu.

Jiang Shu: [Teacher Wen, are you busy?]

Jiang Shu: [I've been on a business trip these past few days. Just got back to Jinghai.]

Seeing this name, Wen Yicong was a bit confused at first, her mind blank for a few seconds, unable to remember who it was.

She instinctively scrolled up to look at their previous chat history and then remembered: this was the 'quality match' her friend Su Wanxin had introduced to her.

Not knowing what to reply, she thought for a few seconds and politely sent back a sticker.

In less than two seconds, Jiang Shu replied again: [I was on business in Jincheng. They just had a cold snap, a big temperature drop. Coming back to Jinghai made me feel alive again.]

Wen Yicong glanced at the screen and, out of politeness, casually replied: [I went to Jincheng once two years ago. There's a famous old-brand salt-baked chicken place there. It's pretty good.]

Jiang Shu: [Haha, really? Looks like I didn't do my research well. My trip this time was too tight. I was in meetings all day and didn't have time to look around or try the local food.]

Jiang Shu: [If there's a next time, I hope I can go with Teacher Wen.]

This message was clearly intentional, showing no attempt to hide his enthusiasm and interest in her.

Wen Yicong looked at the screen and immediately felt awkward, unsure how to respond without giving him the wrong idea. After hesitating, she could only resort to her universal weapon again: a sticker.

They chatted casually for a bit, and then Jiang Shu got to the point.

He asked: [Is Teacher Wen free tonight? I know a newly opened Italian restaurant. The ambiance is really nice.]

Wen Yicong was completely buried in the soft bedding, her cheek rubbing against the quilt. She thought for a moment and found an excuse to refuse: [Sorry, I have a lesson tonight.]

Jiang Shu: [I understand. Work is important.]

But he didn't seem ready to give up easily. He immediately followed up: [What about tomorrow night? Or the weekend? Whatever day works for you, we can arrange it in advance.]

Wen Yicong sighed helplessly and continued her well-intentioned lie: [Probably none of those days. My schedule is pretty full lately. I'm very busy.]

Jiang Shu: [Could you give me a shipping address? I brought back some specialties from Jincheng—a very famous pear blossom pastry.]

Wen Yicong: [I appreciate the thought ^_^. Keep them for yourself, or give them to your elders or friends.]

Jiang Shu: [It's just a small token. I hope Teacher Wen won't refuse. Think of it as a souvenir between friends.]

Jiang Shu insisted, determined to send her the pear blossom pastry.

Wen Yicong held her phone, feeling a bit helpless.

She didn't want to take advantage of him, nor did she want to drag things out in this ambiguous way, giving him hope only to disappoint him. After thinking it over, she finally decided to make things clear.

Wen Yicong took a deep breath and typed carefully on the screen, choosing her words: [Mr. Jiang, thank you again for your interest and kindness. But I'm really sorry… we might not be a good fit. I'm very sorry.]

After the message was sent, there was silence on the other end for a few seconds.

Then, Jiang Shu replied: [Did I do something wrong that upset you? If I said something wrong or didn't do enough, please tell me. I can change.]

He attributed all the problems to himself, which actually made Wen Yicong feel a bit guilty. She quickly replied: [It's not your fault. You're great. I just feel that our personalities or chemistry might not be a match.]

Then she added: [But meeting is fate. It's nice to be friends, isn't it?]

After this message was sent, the other end fell into a longer silence. After a while, the chat box showed 'The other person is typing…' and finally, only one word came back:

[Mm]

At least this matter was settled.

Wen Yicong felt a huge relief, letting out a long sigh. Just as she was about to exit the chat and continue watching short dramas, Jiang Shu sent another message.

Jiang Shu: [Is Teacher Wen rejecting me because of the person who picked you up that night?]

This sentence was like an invisible needle, pricking Wen Yicong unexpectedly.

A strange sense of guilt spread quickly. Her fingers trembled slightly as she quickly typed a denial: [No.]

Receiving her firm denial, Jiang Shu didn't say anything more, only replying: [Mm, I see.]

With that, the conversation finally ended completely.

Wen Yicong threw her phone aside, lay on her back on the bed, and stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Was rejecting Jiang Shu related to Mo Shaoshang?

As if by some strange compulsion, Wen Yicong recalled Jiang Shu's question, and for a moment, her mind was a tangled mess, unable to sort things out.

She had to admit that Mo Shaoshang's appearance, temperament, and physique were fatally attractive to any woman. She was just an ordinary person; it was only natural that her gaze was always drawn to him.

But he was her employer.

Wen Yicong hadn't forgotten that she had come to this manor to treat a poor child with Autism Spectrum Disorder, and he was the master of the manor, the child's guardian.

How could she let her imagination run wild about him? How could she have such impure thoughts about Mo Shaoshang?

It was too inappropriate, too unprofessional.

Her mind felt like a tangled mess of threads, impossible to unravel. Wen Yicong let out a groan, hugged her pillow, and rolled around on the bed a few times. Then she sat up abruptly, picked up her phone again, and opened her chat with her best friend, Su Wanxin.

Wen Yicong: [I made things clear with Jiang Shu.]

As an internet addict and gossip enthusiast, Su Wanxin replied almost instantly: [?? Huh? Clear about what?]

Wen Yicong: [I told him we're not a match and can only be friends.]

Su Wanxin seemed quite disappointed with this outcome and replied with a string of exclamation marks: [OMG!!! My dear little Teacher Wen, you're too honest! A quality guy like that—good-looking, rich, with a career—even if you don't feel that spark right now, don't shut the door completely! Keep him on the hook… I mean, get to know him as a friend first! Why close the book so early!]

Wen Yicong sighed helplessly and replied earnestly: [I think Jiang Shu is a nice person. Precisely because he's a good catch and has shown interest in me, I shouldn't string him along as a backup. That wouldn't be fair to him. I can't bear to do that.]

Su Wanxin was clearly speechless and replied: [Heh.]

Su Wanxin: [Did you come to me just to tell me this?]

Wen Yicong: [No…]

She thought it over carefully, choosing her words, deleting and rewriting several times, before finally typing out a line and sending it: [I wanted to ask you… between a man and a woman, does giving flowers usually have any special meaning?]

Su Wanxin: [Giving flowers? That can mean a lot of things. It can mean pursuing, expressing affection, showing care, offering condolences, showing respect, or even just basic politeness and chivalry.]

Su Wanxin: [In short, the meaning is very broad. It depends on the specific situation, the specific person, and the specific occasion.]

So there were so many possible interpretations.

Wen Yicong pondered Su Wanxin's words and instinctively looked up, her gaze falling on the nightstand again.

There sat a clear glass vase filled with water, holding the single red rose.

Separated from its leaves and branches, it bloomed alone in the vase—gorgeous, bright, as fiery as passion, yet carrying a kind of solitary, self-admiring loneliness.

The employer had made it very clear: he had 'conveniently' picked a flower and asked Auntie Zhang to 'conveniently' put it in her room.

Since it was 'convenient,' it naturally had no special meaning.

Perhaps, as Su Wanxin said, it was just a gesture of care from an employer to a live-in therapist, or simply basic chivalry. That was all.

She had been overthinking it and had almost made a fool of herself.

Having sorted this out, Wen Yicong suddenly felt much clearer. She shook her head, stopped overthinking, and replied to Su Wanxin: [OK, got it~]

*

As dusk fell, the sunset painted the sky a warm orange-red, like a spilled palette. The sound of a car engine grew closer, breaking the evening tranquility of the manor.

Wen Yicong was sitting by the window in her bedroom, reading. Hearing the sound, she got up, walked to the window, and looked out.

She saw the familiar black Aston Martin drive smoothly through the wrought-iron gate, along the straight driveway, and finally stop in front of the main building.

Mo Shaoshang had brought Airi back.

Dinner was French cuisine.

The table was set with exquisite silverware and crystal glasses, the lighting soft.

Airi seemed exhausted from playing. After eating only a few bites, he started crying. Wen Yicong picked him up, rocked him gently, and slowly calmed him down.

After dinner, Wen Yicong and Mo Shaoshang left the dining room one after the other and headed up the stairs to the third floor.

After walking a few steps, Wen Yicong thought about the day's lesson plan, stopped, and called out softly, "Mr. Mo."

Mo Shaoshang, who was walking ahead, turned around. The light and shadow cast faint shadows on his sharply defined profile. His gaze fell on her, questioning.

Wen Yicong cleared her throat and said, "There's a lesson for you tonight. Do you have time?"

Mo Shaoshang's gaze lingered on her face for a moment before he replied, "Yes."

"Alright." A gentle smile appeared on Wen Yicong's face. "See you tonight, then."

*

Time passed quietly, and soon it was exactly eight o'clock in the evening.

Wen Yicong gathered her prepared teaching materials and notes, walked through the dimly lit corridor, and arrived at the study door.

She raised her hand and knocked lightly with her knuckles, producing a crisp sound.

Thump, thump.

The room was silent. No one answered.

Wen Yicong blinked, finding it strange. She leaned in closer and noticed that the door wasn't locked—it was ajar, with a gap left.

Since the scheduled lesson time had already arrived, she hesitated for a few seconds and decided to go in and wait.

Pushing open the ajar wooden door, Wen Yicong stepped inside slowly.

Only a few wall sconces were lit in the study, casting a dim, soft light that felt hazy and intimate. The air was filled with a woody fragrance, light and cool. There was no sign of Mo Shaoshang.

Wen Yicong was puzzled.

Had he been delayed by something?

Thinking this, she placed the materials she was holding on the desk and paced around the room, waiting patiently. Suddenly, sensing something, her body stiffened, and the blood in her veins seemed to freeze instantly.

A strange rustling sound came from the air, making her scalp tingle.

It was that snake named Silvio…

The image of the snake's cold, icy vertical pupils flashed through her mind, sending a chill down her spine. She instinctively moved a few steps away from the dark corners.

In doing so, her arm accidentally brushed against an inconspicuous ornament on the edge of the desk.

A soft 'clatter' sounded as something fell to the floor, breaking the suffocating silence in the study.

Her heart jumped. She quickly turned her head to look.

On the smooth, dark floor lay a small black wooden box, about the size of a palm. The fall had knocked the lid open, and a small, silver, gleaming object had slid out, lying quietly beside the box.

Oh no, she had knocked over one of Mo Shaoshang's things.

She hoped it wasn't broken…

Wen Yicong quickly bent down, first picking up the box, which felt warm and smooth to the touch, seemingly made of some precious ebony, and then reaching for the silver object.

She picked it up and looked closely.

Silver. A simple, unique geometric pattern. Exquisite, delicate craftsmanship. At the top was a uniquely designed pure silver ear hook.

"…"

She instinctively raised her hand and touched her empty earlobe. Her heart suddenly skipped a beat.

This?!

Wasn't this the earring she had lost before?

How did it end up in Mo Shaoshang's study?

Just as Wen Yicong's mind was reeling, staring at the earring in her palm, a voice suddenly sounded from behind her, low and gentle, like a river flowing quietly in the night:

"Sorry to keep you waiting."