I'm Quite Pleased.

A few minutes later, the black Bentley glided smoothly away from the Manor House, heading toward Tai Gong Mountain Forest Park.

The atmosphere inside the car was quiet.

Airi was, as always, lost in his own world. Head lowered, he focused intently on the toy car in his hands, indifferent to the scenery outside the window. Wen Yicong sat beside Airi, a gentle smile on her face, her soft voice flowing like a stream as she narrated his every movement.

"Little car wheels, turn, turn."

"Touch the glass, slippery."

This method is called "ear-grinding." Through continuous input of language information, it helps ASD Children build connections between language and things.

Mo Shaoshang sat on the other side, his gaze occasionally lifting from the documents in his hands to look at the two figures—one large, one small—with a rare softness flickering in his eyes before vanishing.

Several dozen minutes later, the black Bentley pulled into the forest park's parking lot.

The group exited the car one after another. Wen Yicong took Airi's small hand and walked at the front. Mo Shaoshang quietly accompanied the two of them. Chen Jin, who had come along, and the live-in nanny Tang Sister maintained a discreet, appropriate distance, silently following behind the three.

Tai Gong Mountain Forest Park sits on the Jinghai City stretch of the Tai Gong mountain range, covering a vast area of 1,300 square kilometers with nearly 60% forest coverage—a true world-class natural oxygen bar, and a famous destination for parents with young children throughout Jinghai City.

It was early autumn. The air was fresh and invigorating, grass and trees fragrant, birdsong melodious, nameless wildflowers blooming in scattered constellations—everything appeared tranquil and full of life.

The park was large, designed with parent-child families in mind; the Children's Play Area was set up not far from the entrance.

The area was clearly divided, including a non-powered equipment zone, a pet interaction zone, a natural history museum zone, and a sightseeing train zone.

Although it was a Monday workday and the park wasn't crowded, the Children's Play Area still gathered quite a few preschool-aged children.

Birds chirped on the branches, autumn insects held a grand concert in the grass, children laughed and played under their parents' watchful eyes, and silvery laughter rose and fell, drifting toward the azure clouds.

What a lively scene.

A cacophony of human voices and natural sounds filled the surrounding air. Wen Yicong's fingers unconsciously tightened around Airi's small hand, a thread of unease rising in her heart. She lowered her head, her gaze settling on Airi's face as she carefully observed the child's reaction.

Wen Yicong knew well that ASD Children were often sensorially sensitive—the park's voices, laughter, birdsong, even the rustle of wind through leaves—each posed a considerable challenge for Airi. Before coming, she had mentally rehearsed several possible emergencies and prepared response plans.

The facts proved Wen Yicong's professional judgment accurate. Within five minutes of entering the play area, Airi showed obvious anxiety and discomfort.

He seemed unable to process the surrounding cacophony. Suddenly he wrenched free of Wen Yicong's hand, stopped walking, his small brow furrowing as he pressed both hands tightly over his ears, his body going slightly rigid.

The live-in nanny, surnamed Tang and affectionately called Tang Sister by everyone, saw this and felt heartache. She couldn't help but murmur, "The little young master dislikes crowded, noisy places the most. Teacher Wen brought him straight to such a lively playground—he must be uncomfortable and unhappy. Is Teacher Wen being a bit too hasty..."

Tang Sister was warm and patient by nature. Since Airi returned from abroad, she had been primarily responsible for his daily care. She genuinely loved Airi as her own child, and seeing him in distress, instinctively wanted to intervene.

Tang Sister's feet shifted, preparing to go over and pick up Airi.

But the moment she took a step, Mo Shaoshang's peripheral gaze swept over her coolly.

Tang Sister understood immediately, withdrew her step at once, lowered her head and eyes, and made no further move.

At this moment, Wen Yicong had already quickly crouched down, bringing herself to Airi's eye level.

She gathered the slightly trembling Airi into her arms, her movements gentle and careful. One arm encircled his small body, while the other softly stroked his young back. At the same time, her soothing voice, like the most sleep-inducing lullaby, comforted him at his ear: "The sounds around us are a bit loud, a bit noisy. Airi doesn't like them. Teacher Wen knows. It's okay. Airi won't be in danger. Teacher Wen is here..."

Her patience was excellent—she repeatedly offered verbal comfort and physical contact, providing the child with a sense of security.

Thus, through Wen Yicong's persistent efforts, Airi's tense body gradually relaxed, and the hands covering his ears slowly lowered.

Seeing this, Wen Yicong's heart leaped with joy. She immediately seized the moment, speaking softly in relatively simple short sentences: "Teacher holds hands, accompanies Airi together, goes over there, makes ant castle, okay?" She raised her hand, pointing toward the relatively quiet artificial beach not far away.

Airi made no sound, his thick curled lashes trembling, as if struggling to process the sentence. After a long while, he nodded lightly.

Wen Yicong curved her lips, took out a packet of strawberry puree from her small bag, opened it, and carefully fed the child—as positive reinforcement for accepting the suggestion and attempting communication.

The two figures—one large, one small—took each other's hands again and walked toward the artificial beach.

Mo Shaoshang took in Wen Yicong's entire series of professional responses, his gaze calm and focused, his thoughts unknown.

After a moment, he spoke unexpectedly, instructing: "Give me the bag."

Tang Sister froze for a moment, then realized the master was speaking to her. She quickly removed the backpack containing Airi's spare items from her back and respectfully handed it over.

Mo Shaoshang took the cartoon-printed bag, held it in one hand, and said lightly: "Wait here. No need to follow."

As the words fell, Chen Jin and Tang Sister exchanged a glance, both showing a flash of surprise in their eyes. Though puzzled, neither dared object, and they soon nodded respectfully: "Understood, sir."

*

A gentle breeze blew, the sunlight was soft, and the artificial beach's sand was fine and clean.

Wen Yicong, holding Airi's hand, found a relatively open corner and sat down. She then took out the prepared small shovel, bucket, toy excavator, and other tools, guiding Airi to make an "ant castle" together.

She demonstrated first, shoveling sand pile by pile.

Airi initially just watched, but after a while, began imitating her movements—he stretched out his small hand, clumsily grabbed sand, and placed it on the "foundation." Working together, in no time a small "hill" was successfully piled up.

Seeing the castle's main structure taking shape, Wen Yicong found a slender stick and began poking small holes in the little hill, simulating ant tunnels.

When the first hole was poked, Airi's lake-blue eyes suddenly widened. He patted his small hands, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.

Wen Yicong noticed this subtle change and immediately poked a second hole.

Airi's eyes grew brighter. He even actively raised his head, glanced quickly at Wen Yicong, his gaze sparkling with novelty.

Discovering Airi's strong interest in "poking holes," Wen Yicong seized this precious breakthrough and began intensifying the interaction.

She deliberately made various exaggerated expressions, paired with onomatopoeia: "Whoosh! Whoosh whoosh! Poke holes! Little ant goes home!"

This time, Airi was directly amused into giggling aloud.

The laughter was clear and brief, but like a ray of sunlight, it instantly dispelled all of Wen Yicong's fatigue.

Pressing on, she handed the small stick in her hand to Airi, encouraging: "Airi, come, your turn."

Airi hesitated a moment, stretched out his small hand, took the stick, then imitated Wen Yicong, poking around on the hill, playing with absorbed focus.

Watching Airi's delicate face and the serious movements of his hands, Wen Yicong's eyes filled with tenderness. She felt only that the little boy from the stars before her was so adorable it made her heart soften.

She couldn't help reaching out to pinch the child's soft, pink cheeks.

Just then, a shadow fell beside her, blocking the sunlight from above and bringing a thread of coolness.

Wen Yicong paused, turned her head. She saw Mo Shaoshang had, at some unknown point, also walked into this artificial beach.

Without caring that his expensive trousers might get sandy, he naturally bent down, bent his long legs, and half-squatted, his tall, straight figure descending to their level.

Mo Shaoshang lowered his eyelids, looking at the small "ant castle." A few seconds later, he picked up the idle small shovel beside him, scooped up some sand, and added more to Airi's castle. In the blink of an eye, the castle expanded, and the "walls" grew sturdier.

Wen Yicong's eyes widened as she stared at Mo Shaoshang in surprise.

In the autumn sunlight, the man's profile was sharply defined, his high-bridged nose casting a small shadow, his thin lips slightly pressed, his jawline clean and elegant.

After reinforcing the castle, Mo Shaoshang picked up another small mold, scooped sand, and gently pressed it beside the castle, forming an attached "little house," full of childlike charm.

Occasionally, he would raise his eyes to observe Airi's reactions, strictly following the parallel play technique—first participating, then attempting to guide. No superfluous words, only action as companionship.

Airi seemed to sense the "castle's" changes. He stopped poking holes, looked at the expanded result, and then actually broke into a grin.

Mo Shaoshang also curved his lips and ruffled Airi's soft golden hair.

Afterward, the child's attention was drawn to the toy excavator, and he began digging and hauling sand with focused concentration.

Watching the scene before her, Wen Yicong couldn't help but speak softly, her tone carrying sincere admiration: "You learn very quickly."

Hearing this, Mo Shaoshang turned his head to look at her, a trace of puzzlement in his gaze.

Wen Yicong smiled at him and explained: "Just now, when you interacted with Airi, you used many of the techniques and methods I taught you in class—parallel play, following the child's interest, giving non-verbal responses... You did very well, very naturally."

Her tone was warm and friendly, carrying strong encouragement, her voice sweet and warm.

Just like when she praised the children normally.

Mo Shaoshang raised an eyebrow and replied casually: "Thank you for the compliment, Teacher Wen."

"You're welcome." Wen Yicong picked up the small shovel, idly drawing in the sand beside her, recalling a question she'd long held, and added: "By the way, Mr. Mo, there's something I've been wanting to ask you."

Mo Shaoshang: "What?"

Wen Yicong raised her bright eyes, looking at him with an inquisitive expression: "When I came for the interview before, I noticed that the questions you asked me about ASD intervention were very professional, almost all hitting the mark. Combined with what I just saw of you interacting with Airi, using those techniques naturally and skillfully... I guess you've systematically studied this area before, right?"

Mo Shaoshang considered for a few seconds, then calmly nodded.

As expected.

Her guess confirmed, Wen Yicong instantly understood—Airi's parents were both deceased; in this world, Mo Shaoshang was his only direct relative.

Conversely, Mo Shaoshang's closest family in this world was probably only Airi left.

For this nephew connected to him by blood, this man must surely harbor deep feelings and bonds. So, no matter how busy his daily work, no matter how heavy his duties, he had never neglected to pay attention to and study Airi's rehabilitation treatment.

He had always been giving his utmost effort.

Thinking of this, Wen Yicong's heart tightened, and she couldn't help but feel a thread of sympathy for this man who appeared cold and hard, so powerful he seemed omnipotent.

After a moment, she called softly: "Mr. Mo."

Mo Shaoshang turned his gaze, his eyes falling on the girl's serene, bright little face.

At this moment, sunlight filtered through sparse clouds onto the earth, and she was entirely enveloped in a soft glow, her skin fair and translucent, her eyes clear as water, even the soft down on her face clearly visible—beautiful to the point of seeming unreal.

Mo Shaoshang's Adam's apple moved almost imperceptibly, his expression calm and undisturbed: "Mm?"

Wen Yicong looked at him and said: "Let's work together. Airi will get better."

Mo Shaoshang gazed at her, his blue-black eyes seeming to harbor hidden undercurrents. After a long while, he spoke again, suddenly saying: "And Teacher Wen?"

Wen Yicong was puzzled, blinked: "Me? What about me?"

Mo Shaoshang: "Why did you choose to become a special education teacher?"

Hearing this question, the light in Wen Yicong's eyes instantly dimmed several shades, as if some long-sealed memory had been touched. She stared blankly into space, her gaze drifting toward the children playing in the distance, carrying a faint, barely perceptible melancholy.

But quickly, she forced herself back to normal, her face once again full of smiles: "Just a coincidence. No special reason."

*

After digging in the sand, the two adults and one child walked together toward the non-powered equipment area nearby.

Passing a brightly colored swing, Airi unconsciously turned his small head, his gaze falling on the gently swaying swing, seeming to carry a hint of longing.

Wen Yicong keenly caught this subtle change in the child's gaze. She bent down to Airi's eye level and asked softly: "Airi wants to play on the swing, right?"

Airi's clear blue eyes remained somewhat unfocused. He didn't directly answer, his two small hands anxiously twisting his hem.

Wen Yicong smiled slightly, didn't press further, gently took Airi's hand, and walked toward the swing.

The swing was a bit high. Airi tried hard to tiptoe, attempted several times, but couldn't get on by himself.

Wen Yicong reached out, preparing to bend and pick up the child, but before she could, a figure flashed before her eyes. When she looked again, Mo Shaoshang had already stepped ahead, his movements gentle yet efficient, lifting the child and placing him on the swing seat.

Airi seemed quite intrigued, turning his small head to look around.

Next, Wen Yicong and Mo Shaoshang worked together tacitly, taking turns pushing the swing.

The swing rocked slowly and rhythmically, carrying a breeze across Airi's cheeks. The little one enjoyed it thoroughly, his expression so relaxed it could even be called pleased. When the swing returned to its lowest point, Wen Yicong seized the moment, stopped pushing, and gently prompted: "Push, swing. Push, swing."

Finally, after the seventh attempt, Airi imitated and uttered a small phrase: "Push... swing-swing..."

Wen Yicong was overjoyed, immediately giving enthusiastic praise and encouragement.

Just then, from not far away, came the sound of hushed conversation—two young girls who looked like college students.

"Wow, look over there, this family's looks are so high." A girl with a backpack exclaimed softly. Her eyes full of amazement, she couldn't help nudging her companion with her elbow.

"Really." The other girl whispered in agreement, her gaze moving between Mo Shaoshang, Wen Yicong, and Airi, clicking her tongue in admiration: "Is the dad mixed? So handsome! The mom is so pretty too... Wow, their baby is too cute, like a doll."

...

Hearing the unreserved whispers at her ear, Wen Yicong suddenly flushed red, her heart skipping a beat.

She thought: Oh no. She, Mo Shaoshang, and Airi—this rehabilitation trio—had been mistaken by passersby for a family of three.

Wen Yicong's conditioned reflex was to speak up and explain, tell them she was only the rehabilitation teacher. But on second thought, they were just two strangers passing by, soon to go their separate ways. Being misunderstood by them... didn't really have any substantial impact, did it?

Going out of her way to explain would actually be stranger.

Mulling this over, Wen Yicong's gaze shifted, and she unconsciously stole a glance beside her.

Mo Shaoshang pushed the swing, his expression calm, relaxed and at ease, as if completely insulated from the outside world.

Wen Yicong's gaze returned, she steadied herself, and quietly exhaled.

The employer hadn't heard those words at all. Or rather, even if he had, he didn't care in the slightest.

Better forget it.

The thought of explaining was completely abandoned. Wen Yicong turned her slightly burning cheeks to one side, her attention returning to Airi, no longer overthinking.

*

Past five in the afternoon, the setting sun began to sink westward, dyeing the horizon a warm orange-red. The group headed home from the forest park.

After an afternoon of high-intensity play and sensory stimulation, Airi was already exhausted. On the way back to the parking lot, he began rubbing his eyes, his small head nodding, drowsy.

Seeing this, Mo Shaoshang bent down and scooped up the child in one motion, then adjusted his posture so Airi's small head rested on his broad, solid shoulder.

Sensing an incomparably safe presence, Airi's small hands unconsciously gathered, gripping the fabric at Mo Shaoshang's shoulder. In no time, he fell into deep sleep. His thick curled lashes quietly covered his eyelids, his breathing even and long, and he even began to snore softly.

Wen Yicong carried the small bucket of sand-digging tools, walking beside them.

In her vision, the tall, cold-faced man carefully held the sleeping child in his arms, the golden glow of the sunset plating them with a warm halo.

Wen Yicong's heart was suddenly struck by a soft tremor.

This employer, though usually stern-faced and keeping everyone at arm's length, and even keeping several cold-blooded animals as pets, was unexpectedly patient and tender when caring for a child.

She thought quietly.

The afterglow of the setting sun filtered through the tall green foliage on both sides of the road, casting dappled, swaying shadows, lengthening the three figures' silhouettes, the atmosphere warm and subtle.

*

After several hours of high-intensity childcare—having to focus on guiding Airi while handling various environmental variables—Wen Yicong was naturally exhausted. After dinner, she returned to her third-floor bedroom, quickly took a hot shower to wash away her fatigue, then burrowed into the soft bedding.

Not wanting to think, she took out her phone and played chess.

Whether due to luck or weak opponents, after several rounds, she won overwhelmingly.

Past nine in the evening, Wen Yicong yawned, the physiological tears of drowsiness seeping from the corners of her eyes. Just as she was about to turn off the light and sleep, she heard a crisp "ding"—a WeChat notification.

She rubbed her eyes and tapped the green icon.

The sender was Ms. Shen Yulan.

Shen Yulan: [Daughter, resting yet?]

Wen Yicong curled up in the bedding, lazily typing a reply: [Not yet. What's up, Mom?]

Shen Yulan: [Nothing, just missed you, chatting with you for a bit.]

Shen Yulan: [Oh, right.]

Shen Yulan: [Today little Sai contacted me, asking if we mother-daughter pair could go grocery shopping together next time. When are you free?]

Wen Yicong was confused, didn't react: [Who's little Sai?]

Shen Yulan: [Oh, that foreign young man! Last time we went grocery shopping together, didn't he add me on WeChat? This young man is quite likable.]

Wen Yicong: [Oh oh. I remember now.]

Shen Yulan immediately sent another line: [By the way daughter, that little Sai, I think he's alright. Good-looking, cheerful personality, seems interested in you. You've been single too, why not try dating him?]

Wen Yicong: [...]

Black lines appeared at Wen Yicong's temples, she quickly typed to interrupt: [= = Mom! Don't tell such unfunny cold jokes! I've only met him twice, we can't even count as ordinary friends!]

Afraid her mother would continue the topic, she hurriedly added: [I'm sleepy, going to bed, good night.]

Shen Yulan: [You child, I'm not forcing you to date little Sai]

Shen Yulan: [Just a suggestion, if you don't take it, forget it. Good intentions treated as ill.]

Closing the chat with her mother, Wen Yicong turned off her phone screen and tucked it under her pillow. But the moment she closed her eyes, her mind kept replaying her mother's bizarre matchmaking suggestion. The more she thought, the more she found it annoying yet funny, and even her sleepiness was somewhat dispelled.

Truly unable to let it go, she sat up again, took her phone, and unlocked it with her fingerprint.

The screen lit up. Without looking, she tapped open WeChat by muscle memory and banged out a line in the input field:

[Please! I don't have any feelings for Sebastien at all, he's purely an ordinary friend! Please don't misunderstand!]

After typing, her fingertip moved to the send button and pressed firmly.

The message was successfully sent.

Wen Yicong breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the small pent-up frustration finally vented. She threw off the covers, got out of bed, poured herself a cup of warm water, drank it while slowly walking back to the bed. After drinking, she set down the cup, casually picked up her phone to check the time, her gaze casually glancing at the screen.

She saw the message she had just sent, quietly sitting in the chat window. And at the top of the chat window, a contact name was displayed: Mr. Mo.

??!!

Wen Yicong nearly blacked out.

She thought: Dear Ms. Shen Yulan, you've really done her in. Why did you suddenly change to a dark starry sky picture as your profile picture... She had been drowsy just now, and in a momentary blur, had mistakenly sent the message meant for Comrade Shen Yulan to Mo Shaoshang!

Done for!

Wen Yicong was struck as if by lightning, completely frozen in place, her cheeks burning like fire. She wanted to cry but had no tears, her scalp tingling, her mind frantically scrolling: What to do what to do? Recall? Already past two minutes! Explain? How to explain? Say it was sent by mistake? Wouldn't that be like protesting too much and making things worse?

...Even protesting too much would be better than this inexplicable situation now.

Better explain clearly!

Thinking of this, Wen Yicong bit her lip, hurriedly typed another line: [Sorry Mr. Mo, I was chatting with my mother and accidentally sent the message to the wrong person. Sorry sorry sorry! Hope I didn't disturb you QAQ]

After sending, she waited anxiously.

Within seconds, her phone went "ding ding" several times.

The reply from the other side popped up.

M: [You didn't disturb me]

M: [Receiving this message from Teacher Wen, I'm quite pleased.]

Wen Yicong: ...( ?? - ?? )

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

Author's note: Momo: My wife specially explained to me, so happy (＾－＾)V

————

Momo's psychology really has issues, he's quite crazy, weak moral sense. Giving everyone a heads-up in advance

Random 100 red packet~