The Underground Wine Cellar.

Wen Yicong’s whole body trembled, her heart clenching violently.

She turned around and saw that, without her noticing, Mo Shaoshang had appeared silently behind her.

He seemed to have just finished work, still wearing that crisp white shirt, but the top two buttons were undone, shedding some of his rigid seriousness for a lazy, casual air. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes calmly watched her.

Wen Yicong’s heart pounded like thunder. Her fingers unconsciously tightened around the silver earring.

The cold metal edges bit into her palm, bringing a sharp sting, but it also gave her chaotic thoughts a moment of clarity.

Mo Shaoshang noticed the strangeness in her expression. His gaze dropped to the earring in her hand, then lifted again to meet her panicked eyes.

Wen Yicong’s heart raced. Afraid he might misunderstand that she had been rummaging through his personal belongings, she blurted out in clarification, ‘I didn’t mean to go through your things. I heard Silvio’s voice and got a little scared. When I stepped back, I accidentally knocked over this box…’

Hearing this, Mo Shaoshang’s expression remained unchanged, showing no displeasure. He replied flatly, ‘I see.’

But the calmer he was, the more uneasy Wen Yicong became.

She clutched the earring, standing stiffly in place, at a loss.

Should she give it back? Or should she ask for an explanation?

A thin layer of sweat formed on her palm, sticking to the small silver object.

In the dead silence, Mo Shaoshang moved slightly, walking over to the leather sofa on one side of the study. He bent down and sat down, his posture relaxed. His long legs crossed naturally, and he leaned back slightly into the soft sofa back, but his gaze remained on her, like an invisible tether.

‘Teacher Wen, no need to be so formal,’ he said. ‘Sit.’

Hearing this, Wen Yicong could only nod, steel herself, and walk to the single sofa opposite him to sit down.

The two sat facing each other in silence for a few seconds.

The air was filled only with the sound of their shallow breathing and a faint rustling.

Wen Yicong lowered her head, biting her lower lip lightly, her mind in turmoil.

Finally, curiosity and an inexplicable impulse overcame her hesitation. She lifted her eyes to look at the man enveloped in the dim light across from her, hesitated, and spoke softly, breaking the silence of the room: ‘Mr. Mo, is this earring yours?’

As she spoke, she opened her palm.

A glint of silver stood out starkly against her fair skin.

Mo Shaoshang’s gaze swept over the earring, his tone utterly flat: ‘No.’

Not his?

Wen Yicong grew even more confused, her brow unconsciously furrowing. ‘Then…’ Why was it here, kept in such an exquisite box?

As if reading her question, Mo Shaoshang’s blue-black eyes looked at her, his gaze as calm as water, as if it could reflect every ripple in her heart.

He spoke again, his voice steady as he stated a fact: ‘This is yours, Teacher Wen.’

Wen Yicong: ‘…’

Of course.

She was utterly stunned.

Mo Shaoshang’s expression was lazy and casual as he gave a nonchalant explanation: ‘The night I picked you up from the bar, you left it in my car.’

Wen Yicong blinked, quickly retracing her memories—yes, that night after leaving the Queen Bee Bar, Mo Shaoshang had personally driven her back to the manor.

No wonder she hadn’t seen that earring since. She had thought she’d lost it at the bar or on the street, but he had picked it up.

As realization dawned, a new question surfaced.

Still puzzled, Wen Yicong couldn’t help asking, ‘But if you found my earring, why didn’t you tell me?’ If not for this accident today, she might never have known it was with him.

Mo Shaoshang’s tone was languid: ‘A lie or the truth—which one do you want to hear?’

Wen Yicong was taken aback by the abrupt question, momentarily dazed. What kind of strange logic was this? Returning a lost item—did it need to be divided into truth and falsehood? She stalled for two seconds before squeezing out, ‘What are they, respectively?’

Mo Shaoshang looked at her leisurely and said, ‘After I found the earring, I never found the right opportunity to return it to you.’

He paused for a beat, then continued, ‘That’s the lie.’

Wen Yicong was curious: ‘Then what’s the truth?’

Mo Shaoshang: ‘I never planned to return this earring to you in the first place.’

I never planned to return it to you in the first place.

The moment the words fell, Wen Yicong’s heart skipped several beats, and a fine layer of sweat broke out on both palms, damp and tingling.

The study fell into a brief silence. Only the wall lamp cast a dim halo, stretching their shadows long and weaving them together on the thick carpet in an ambiguous silhouette.

After a long while, Wen Yicong finally found her voice again. She heard her own voice, light as the evening breeze brushing past the window, barely audible: ‘Why?’

Mo Shaoshang looked at her, his eyes deep and unfathomable: ‘I didn’t want to.’

Didn’t want to? What kind of reason was that?

A blush crept unbeknownst to Wen Yicong’s cheeks. She lowered her eyes, her heart tightening again and again.

After a few seconds of thought, she took a deep breath, placed the earring back in the black wooden box, and said, ‘Since you like it, Mr. Mo, I’ll give it to you.’

Mo Shaoshang raised an eyebrow very slightly, a barely perceptible glint passing through his eyes behind the lenses: ‘Teacher Wen is always so generous with her employers?’

Wen Yicong’s face reddened even more for no reason, like a ripe cherry. She replied softly, ‘It’s just a little trinket, nothing important.’

‘Thank you,’ he answered, accepting it as a matter of course.

‘…You’re welcome.’ Wen Yicong replied incoherently, her mind in a mess.

Not dwelling on it further, she took another deep breath, put down the wooden box, picked up the teaching materials on the table, and adjusted herself back into work mode.

After handing Mo Shaoshang a copy of the course materials on ‘How to Improve Social Initiative in Autistic Children Through Structured Play,’ she curved her eyes and put on a professional sweet smile: ‘Let’s start the lesson.’

Mo Shaoshang’s lips curled almost imperceptibly, a very slight but meaningful arc: ‘Alright.’

*

In the days that followed, life at the manor seemed to go on as usual.

Morning light still arrived on time. She still gave Airi his rehabilitation training, playing with the child, eating meals, and taking walks. Master Heng was still meticulous and attentive, and the others remained silent and diligent.

The only difference was that Wen Yicong hadn’t seen Mo Shaoshang again.

After several consecutive days without seeing her employer, Wen Yicong couldn’t help feeling a little strange. At first, she thought he was just busy with work, leaving early and returning late. But after five days without any encounter, not even hearing the sound of his car engine, a sense of unease began to rise in Wen Yicong’s heart.

This state continued until Saturday.

That morning, Wen Yicong was playing on the slide with Airi in the garden. Looking at the closed window of the master bedroom on the third floor, she finally couldn’t help asking, as if casually, ‘Master Heng, I haven’t seen Mr. Mo around lately. Is he on a business trip?’

Master Heng’s loving gaze followed Airi as he answered, ‘The master went to Europe to handle some matters.’

Wen Yicong instinctively pressed further: ‘When will he be back?’

Master Heng shook his head: ‘Not sure.’

Wen Yicong lowered her eyes.

Of course, she knew Mo Shaoshang was very busy. That was how the world worked—the capable always had more to do. He possessed wealth and status beyond ordinary imagination, and the responsibilities on his shoulders were naturally a thousand times heavier than most people’s.

But for some reason, after learning that Mo Shaoshang was thousands of miles away with no known return date, her mood couldn’t help sinking into a kind of dejection.

A strange, inexplicable dejection. Without cause.

Though she didn’t know where this odd emotion came from, Wen Yicong sensed it was bad, so she threw herself even more intently into Airi’s rehabilitation intervention, filling every moment with busyness so she wouldn’t think about things she shouldn’t.

Before she knew it, it was Saturday afternoon.

As agreed, Saturday afternoon was Wen Yicong’s fixed rest period, and Airi would be looked after by the nanny and Master Heng.

After lunch, Wen Yicong told Master Heng that she would be going out in the afternoon.

‘Alright,’ Master Heng said with a gentle smile. ‘Please tell me your destination and departure time, Teacher Wen, so I can arrange a car for you.’

‘No need this time,’ Wen Yicong quickly waved her hand to decline, smiling brightly. ‘I’m just going home. I should be back after dinner. It won’t be too late. I can take a taxi or the subway—it’s very convenient. No need for a dedicated car.’

But Master Heng was insistent. His face still wore a smile, but his tone was respectful yet firm: ‘I’m sorry, Teacher Wen. The master instructed that while you are at the manor, you must be driven by the manor’s car for your safety and convenience. This is the master’s order, and we cannot change it.’

‘…’

Seeing Master Heng’s expression that brooked no negotiation, Wen Yicong knew it was useless to argue, so she had to reluctantly agree: ‘…Alright then, thank you for your trouble.’

A little after one in the afternoon, after changing into a comfortable knitted dress and jacket, Wen Yicong picked up her bag and went downstairs.

The black Rolls-Royce was already waiting quietly in front of the main building. She sat into the comfortable back seat and let the car drive smoothly out of the manor, heading toward the city.

*

In the blink of an eye, Wen Yicong had been working at the Mo Family Manor for over three weeks.

Having been away from home for so many days, as soon as Wen Yicong entered the door, a round, fluffy white figure meowed and pounced on her, rubbing affectionately against her ankles.

‘Peach!’ Wen Yicong’s heart melted at the cuteness, and the gloom of the past few days instantly vanished.

She bent down, scooped the heavy little fat cat into her arms, and scratched under its chin. Peach was in heaven, squinting its eyes and purring happily.

A slight noise came from the kitchen.

A familiar figure was busy at the counter—her mother, Shen Yulan.

‘Mom,’ Wen Yicong called sweetly.

Hearing her daughter’s voice, Shen Yulan turned around, her face immediately breaking into a delighted smile. She untied her apron, put down her work, and hurried over.

Her eyes carefully scanned her daughter from head to toe. Shen Yulan’s eyes sparkled as she said happily, ‘Mm, looks like life at the employer’s house is good. You haven’t lost weight; your face looks a bit fuller, and your complexion is nice.’ As she spoke, she reached out and pinched Wen Yicong’s cheek, full of affection.

Wen Yicong put down Peach, tilted her head, and snuggled into her mother’s arms, acting spoiled like when she was little: ‘Mom, I haven’t seen you in so long. I missed you guys so much.’

Shen Yulan laughed at her daughter, gently patting her back, and teased, ‘If you missed me and your dad that much, why haven’t you called or videoed more often? Every time we call, you say you’re busy after just a few words.’

‘That’s because I really am busy,’ Wen Yicong lifted her head from her mother’s arms, opened her eyes wide, and defended herself with a hint of grievance. ‘Every day, besides teaching the little boy, I also have to teach his parents. It’s very tiring.’

‘Yes, yes, yes, my baby works the hardest.’ Shen Yulan was amused by her daughter’s adorable pout, took her hand, and led her toward the kitchen. ‘Come on, wash your hands first. I’ve washed your favorite strawberries and cherries.’

They say a golden nest or a silver nest is no match for one’s own doghouse. The Mo Family Manor might be grand and luxurious, but it was someone else’s home, full of distance and invisible rules—nowhere near as comfortable and warm as her own.

After washing her hands, Wen Yicong flopped onto the sofa without any pretense, grabbed a strawberry her mother had washed, and popped it into her mouth.

The sweet juice burst in her mouth, and a sense of happiness welled up.

As she ate, she turned her head and looked around, then asked suspiciously, ‘Hey, Mom, where’s Dad? It’s the weekend—did he go to work overtime again?’

‘No,’ Shen Yulan said, carrying a fruit bowl over and placing it on the coffee table. ‘You like fish, don’t you? I sent your dad to the seafood market. We’re having fish hotpot tonight to give you a good meal.’

‘Great!’ Wen Yicong responded happily.

The mother and daughter chatted at home for a while. Around three in the afternoon, Shen Yulan wanted to go to the nearby supermarket to buy some hotpot ingredients and snacks, and Wen Yicong gladly accompanied her.

The weekend supermarket was bustling with people, full of lively, earthy energy.

In such a down-to-earth environment, Wen Yicong had a fleeting illusion that the isolated life at the Mo Family Manor was just an unreal dream.

As she was strolling with her mother through the vegetable section, a male voice suddenly sounded beside her, tentative: ‘Hello? Excuse me… are you Miss Wen Yicong?’

Wen Yicong turned around.

The young man speaking was tall and straight, with slightly curly black hair, sharp, three-dimensional features, a high nose bridge, and beautiful light brown eyes—a standard handsome Latino man. At that moment, this handsome man was looking at her with a bright smile, his eyes sparkling with surprise and a hint of uncertainty.

This face… looked quite familiar.

Wen Yicong quickly searched her memory and remembered: she had accompanied Mo Shaoshang to the Dome Club for a banquet before, and this was the French friend she had met at the event.

‘Mr. Sebastien?’ Wen Yicong’s eyes widened in surprise as well.

‘Yes, it’s me!’ Sebastien was even more excited when he saw she recognized him, his light brown eyes glittering as if filled with stars. ‘I can’t believe you still remember me, Miss Wen. I’m so happy.’

At this, Sebastien paused, glanced at Wen Yicong’s shopping cart, and asked, ‘Are you shopping too, Miss Wen?’

‘Mm.’ Wen Yicong curved her lips in a friendly smile. ‘I’m here with my mom to buy groceries.’ She pointed beside her.

Just then, Shen Yulan also noticed the suddenly appearing foreign boy. She walked over and asked Wen Yicong in a low voice, ‘Nongnong, is this your friend?’

‘Oh, Mom, let me introduce you.’ Wen Yicong pulled her mother over and said with a smile, ‘This is Sebastien, a French friend I met at an event before.’ After introducing, she turned to Sebastien, curved her lips, and introduced gracefully, ‘This is my mother.’

As her words landed, Sebastien seemed both excited and a little flustered.

He quickly extended his right hand in a standard Chinese greeting to Shen Yulan, saying respectfully and warmly, ‘Hello, Auntie. I’m Sebastien. Very nice to meet you. You look so young—standing with Miss Wen, you look like sisters.’

Shen Yulan was a bit taken aback but still smiled kindly and shook his hand, ‘Hello, hello.’

Sebastien had already taken a liking to Wen Yicong, and now that they had run into each other, he certainly wasn’t going to miss this chance to get closer.

His mind turned, and he then made a natural suggestion, his tone sincere with a hint of pleading: ‘Auntie, I’d like to buy some groceries too, but I’m not very good at picking them. You clearly have a lot of experience—could you help me choose?’

This made Shen Yulan chuckle, and she said, ‘This foreign young man sure has a sweet tongue. Alright, since we’re shopping anyway, Auntie will teach you how to pick groceries. I guarantee you’ll get the freshest ones.’

‘Thank you, Auntie!’

Wen Yicong: ‘…’

Watching the two who had reached an agreement, Wen Yicong felt a mix of amusement and exasperation, but she could only passively join this impromptu ‘shopping buddy group.’

So the three of them set off together.

Latin genes were naturally warm and enthusiastic, and Sebastien was witty and talkative. He kept up a steady stream of clever remarks, asking Shen Yulan about the names and cooking methods of various vegetables, and sharing many funny stories from his time in China, making Shen Yulan laugh so much her mouth never closed.

Wen Yicong had initially thought it was a bit strange to go grocery shopping with a newly acquainted friend, but seeing her mother so happy and Sebastien sincere, polite, and friendly, she gradually relaxed, quietly accompanying them and carefully selecting items.

By the time they came out of the supermarket, it was almost five in the evening, and the sky was growing dark.

Seeing that the mother and daughter had bought a lot of things, Sebastien immediately showed his gentlemanly side, taking the initiative to carry several large bags and insisting on walking them back.

Wen Yicong tried to decline but couldn’t, and since there really was a lot of stuff, she gratefully accepted.

Chatting along the way, they soon reached the vicinity of the residential area.

Seeing that they were almost at the main gate of the complex, Wen Yicong stopped and said sincerely to Sebastien, ‘Alright, alright, just send us here. Thank you so much for your trouble!’

‘It was nothing, Miss Wen. No need to be so polite.’ Sebastien’s smile was bright, his white teeth especially eye-catching. He thought for a moment, then spoke again, his eyes full of expectation, ‘Are you sure you don’t need me to carry them upstairs? I can take them to your door.’

‘No need.’ Wen Yicong waved her hand and smiled. ‘We’ll take the elevator. It’s very convenient, and it won’t be tiring. We’ve already troubled you enough today.’

‘Alright.’ A flicker of disappointment passed through Sebastien’s eyes, but he quickly recovered his smile. ‘Then, Miss Wen, Auntie, goodbye! I hope we have the chance to meet again.’

‘Goodbye, and thank you, Xiao Sai.’ Shen Yulan also smiled and said goodbye.

After thanking him and saying goodbye, Wen Yicong took the plastic bags from Sebastien and walked with her mother toward the main gate of the complex.

The sun was gradually setting, and the sky was covered with gorgeous sunset clouds.

The mother and daughter walked slowly along the inner road of the complex, carrying their things.

At this point, Shen Yulan turned back and glanced once more in the direction Sebastien had gone, then leaned close to her daughter and lowered her voice, ‘Nongnong, what do you think of that foreign boy just now?’

‘Sebastien?’ Wen Yicong was looking forward to the fish hotpot that evening and answered casually, ‘He’s nice.’

‘Mom thinks he’s good too. Even though he’s a foreigner, look at him—he likes Chinese culture, speaks Chinese pretty well, and I hear his job is good too. He’s enthusiastic, cheerful, lively, and looks strong…’ Shen Yulan paused here, her tone turning a bit gossipy, ‘Does he have a thing for you?’

‘Mom.’ Wen Yicong found it funny and interrupted her mother’s flight of fancy. ‘Where are your thoughts going? Don’t talk nonsense.’

Seeing her daughter’s speechless expression, Shen Yulan coughed dryly and replied, ‘Mm, okay, Mom won’t talk nonsense, won’t talk nonsense. But still, more friends mean more paths. It’s always good for young people to get to know each other…’

Wen Yicong smiled helplessly and didn’t respond.

The setting sun gradually lengthened the shadows of the mother and daughter, and they eventually disappeared into the entrance of the apartment building.

Across the street.

Under the thick shade of a tree, a pure black Rolls-Royce stood out starkly against its surroundings.

The driver, Chen Jing, sat in the driver’s seat, having taken in the entire scene. Remembering Master Heng’s instructions before leaving, he thought for a moment, took out his phone, composed a text message, and pressed the ‘send’ button.

*

Eating fish hotpot while listening to her parents’ chatter, Wen Yicong felt happy and satisfied, as if her body and soul had been healed. After dinner, she watched TV with her parents for a while and reluctantly left just before nine.

She got into the dedicated car waiting on time outside the complex and returned to the Mo Family Manor.

The manor at night was shrouded in a silent darkness. From a distance, only a few scattered lights were on in the main building, like the eyes of a giant beast quietly opening in the shadow of the mountains. The autumn wind brushed through the treetops, bringing a rustling sob, swirling a few dead leaves in the air before they fell silently.

A night rain was coming; thick clouds rolled, and the air was filled with a damp, sticky stillness and oppression.

The Rolls-Royce drove through the manor gates and came to a stop.

‘Thank you for your trouble,’ Wen Yicong said to Chen Jing before pushing the door open and getting out.

The manor at night felt even more empty and quiet than during the day, with only the sound of her shoes tapping on the stone steps.

Wen Yicong was about to head to her third-floor bedroom when a voice stopped her at the staircase.

‘Teacher Wen.’

Wen Yicong stopped and turned around. It was Lin Ke. He was in a suit, appearing from somewhere, his handsome face wearing a distant smile.

‘What is it, Assistant Lin?’ Wen Yicong smiled and asked.

Lin Ke lowered his eyes slightly and said in a natural tone, ‘Teacher Wen, the master has been waiting for you for a while.’

Huh?

Hearing this, Wen Yicong’s eyes widened a little, and a joy she hadn’t even noticed spread through her heart. She blurted out, ‘Mr. Mo is back?’

‘Yes,’ Lin Ke nodded.

‘Where is he now?’ Wen Yicong asked.

Lin Ke replied, ‘The Wine Cellar.’

The Wine Cellar? What kind of place was that?

Wen Yicong looked puzzled.

‘Please follow me.’ Lin Ke made a guiding gesture, polite and refined, then turned and led the way ahead.

Though Wen Yicong had doubts, she didn’t ask further and quietly followed.

She saw that Lin Ke didn’t go upstairs but instead crossed a corridor on the first floor that she rarely used, arriving at a hidden large door. Then he pushed it open.

Wen Yicong looked inside and saw a spiral staircase descending, covered with dark carpet, dimly lit.

‘The master is inside,’ Lin Ke stopped at the entrance and said with a smile. ‘You may enter on your own, Teacher Wen.’

With that, before Wen Yicong could respond, Lin Ke, as if gripped by some strong wariness, lowered his eyes and silently turned away.

His footsteps faded.

Watching Assistant Lin’s retreating back, Wen Yicong was confused and hesitant, reluctant to step forward.

Though this place was also part of the Mo Family Manor, she had never been here before… and this passage was so deep, stretching as far as the eye could see, as if it had no end.

Why would the employer want to wait for her here?

…Forget it, overthinking was useless.

She should just go meet him.

Maybe he had something urgent to tell her, perhaps related to Airi…

Wen Yicong thought it over for a few seconds, then finally puffed out her cheeks, let out a breath, steadied her mind, and stepped down the stairs.

As she descended the spiral staircase and saw the interior of this basement, she was momentarily startled.

Having been at the Mo Family Manor for so long, she had never known that beneath this main building lay such a vast wine cellar.

The wine cellar covered an enormous area, stretching as far as the eye could see. Tall dark wooden wine racks stood in neat, dense rows, displaying countless bottles of various wines, their glass bodies glinting dully in the dim light.

The air was thick with a rich aroma—the scent of oak barrels and aged wine mixed together. Just a few breaths made one feel tipsy. The light came mainly from a few spotlights on the walls, casting down and concentrating on the racks and specific areas, leaving most of the space dark, hidden in hazy shadows.

At the deepest part of the wine cellar, there was a half-open solid wood door.

Wen Yicong turned her head, weaving through the narrow aisles between the wine racks, her gaze sweeping over the grand scale of the wine collection, her steps light.

The deeper she went, the stronger the wine fragrance became, making her head dizzy and her heart beat faster.

Lin Ke had said Mo Shaoshang was waiting for her here.

But where was he?

Wen Yicong thought, her gaze involuntarily falling on that door.

Was he inside?

After a few seconds, Wen Yicong took a deep breath, walked toward the door, gently pushed it open, and stepped inside.

This was a room with a completely different style from the wine cellar outside.

It looked like a studio.

The lighting was even dimmer than in the wine cellar, focused only in the center of the room. A giant easel stood there, holding a large sheet of drawing paper. In the faint light, she could see abstract, twisted, chaotic lines drawn on the paper, dark in color, exuding a sense of oppression and wildness.

In addition to the wine aroma, the air was mixed with the distinct smell of turpentine and paint.

The paint on the palette beside it was still wet, and a few brushes were casually placed nearby, clearly indicating that the painter had just left.

Or… had not left at all.

‘Mr. Mo?’ Wen Yicong tried to call out softly, her voice echoing in the empty studio.

As her words landed, there was silence.

Soon, a very faint sigh came from the silence, barely audible, seemingly from the deepest shadows of the studio.

Wen Yicong was slightly startled and instinctively turned around.

A tall, slender figure walked unhurriedly out of that dense darkness.

The man wore a black shirt, his collar slightly open, the Black Snake Tattoo on his chest faintly visible. A few strands of hair fell messily over his forehead, partially covering his cold, sharp brows and eyes. He held a wine glass, the dark red liquid swirling inside.

His blue-black eyes stared straight at her, his whole being exuding a decadent, dark beauty, like a piece of art about to shatter, extremely aggressive, dangerous to the extreme.

‘…’

Recognizing Mo Shaoshang, Wen Yicong swallowed dryly, forced herself to steady her mind, and called softly, ‘Mr. Mo.’

Mo Shaoshang looked at her without speaking. He strode over on his long legs, step by step, closing in on her. Then, when he was only half a step away, he stopped, bent down, and leaned close to her. The rich aroma of wine on his breath, mixed with his cool exhalation, sprayed onto her slightly reddened nose tip.

‘Little Teacher Wen.’

He addressed her with this term, his voice soft, tender, and intimate, as if carrying a tipsy intoxication, whispering, ‘You are beautiful, kind, bright, gentle, outstanding in your professional field—perfect to the point of being astonishing.’

‘But why does such a Teacher Wen always make me rack my brains?’

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

Author’s note: Momo: Latino men are scheming and thick-skinned. It’s not Little Teacher Wen’s fault. How could such an adorable treasure be wrong? The fault lies with those men. They really deserve to die. —————— Random 100 red packets~ PS: Starting tomorrow, updates will return to 080808 in the morning. That means the next chapter will drop on [Sunday morning at 080808]. See you tomorrow morning.