She is his.

Outside the car window, the night was as thick as ink; it was nearing midnight. The autumn chill was deep, and the leaves of the sycamore trees lining the street rustled in the night breeze. A few leaves broke free from their branches, drifting onto the empty sidewalk.

The city’s clamor had settled, leaving only the coolness and silence that belonged to the midnight hour.

Inside the car, it was as warm as spring. Wen Yicong sat in the vehicle, feeling the warmth of the air conditioning, and began to feel drowsy.

The entire journey was silent, save for the faint hum of the car moving steadily.

In the early hours of the morning, the Rolls-Royce finally drove through the gates of the Mo Family Manor. It traveled along the quiet driveway and eventually came to a steady stop in the open space before the main building.

Chen Jing stepped out first and opened the door.

A cool night breeze rushed in, causing Wen Yicong to shiver and wake up a bit. She rubbed her eyes and stepped out of the car, one side with Mo Shaoshang.

Thank you, Wen Yicong said to Chen Jing, her voice still carrying a hint of sleep-induced huskiness.

Teacher Wen is too polite, Chen Jing replied with a slight nod.

The villa’s lobby was deathly quiet, with only the sound of their footsteps echoing in the vast space.

Wen Yicong yawned as she walked toward the elevator. Just as she was about to reach out to press the button, a sudden rumbling sound echoed through the air.

The sound was not loud, but in the extreme silence, it was clear and abrupt.

Wen Yicong froze instantly. When she realized it was her own stomach growling, she felt incredibly embarrassed, her cheeks flushing a deep red. How terrible. She had eaten dinner at the hospital, but she had been distracted and only taken a few bites. Now, hours later, her stomach was empty, and it had chosen this very inappropriate moment to put on a show.

Mo Shaoshang was walking not far behind her and had clearly heard the stomach growl.

His footsteps faltered, and his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

He turned his gaze toward Wen Yicong, who was frozen in place and blushing. You didn’t have dinner?

Upon hearing this, Wen Yicong waved her hands hurriedly, trying to mask her awkwardness. I did. It is just that I was worried about my grandfather’s condition, so I wasn’t very hungry and didn’t eat much.

As Mo Shaoshang listened, his gaze rested on her, but his mind uncontrollably drifted back to that night at the swimming pool.

The girl had been soaked through, her dress clinging to her slender, graceful curves. She possessed the typical frame of an Eastern girl—petite and exquisite, with skin so fair it was nearly translucent. Her neck was long and fragile, her limbs well-proportioned, and her waist so thin it seemed as if a gentle squeeze would snap it. Below that, the curve of her hips was just right, shaped like a small, plump peach, with an excellent waist-to-hip ratio.

The lines of her chest, softened by the water, swayed and shimmered, bewitching the heart.

The autumn night was only around ten degrees, and the lobby even felt a bit chilly, but for some reason, Mo Shaoshang felt an inexplicable heat rising from his lower abdomen, and his throat tightened slightly.

His Adam’s apple bobbed subtly, perfectly concealed by his sharp, well-defined jawline.

He then raised a hand to undo the top button of his black shirt, forcing himself to shift his gaze away from her and toward the cold metal door of the elevator.

After two seconds of silence, he spoke, his voice sounding lower and huskier than usual: Wait a moment.

Wen Yicong was still immersed in the embarrassment of social death and looked blankly at him. Huh?

Mo Shaoshang said in a flat tone: I will have Master Heng notify the chef to make you something to eat.

Upon hearing this, Wen Yicong choked on her own saliva and refused without a second thought: At this hour, Master Heng and the others must be asleep. How could I possibly call them up in the middle of the night to cook? It is too much trouble. No need.

Mo Shaoshang replied: It is their job; it is not trouble.

Wen Yicong was speechless.

She knew that in Mo Shaoshang’s worldview, he paid the salary, and the chef team providing round-the-clock service was only natural.

But he was the one paying the salary, and the chefs served him. She was merely a live-in rehabilitation therapist; what right did she have to make them work overtime for her alone in the middle of the night?

Wen Yicong pondered this and shook her head again to refuse: Really, no need, Mr. Mo. Thank you for your kindness. Let it be.

Mo Shaoshang’s blue-black eyes looked at her again, his gaze focused and profound, carrying a sense of unquestionable persistence: But you are hungry.

Wen Yicong was stunned.

The man’s attitude at this moment carried a calm stubbornness and a hint of a child’s refusal to be satisfied, even appearing... a bit cute?

As soon as this thought surfaced, it startled Wen Yicong. Cute? She actually thought Mo Shaoshang was cute? She must be starving to death.

With her mind in a bit of a muddle, she cleared her throat and tried to make amends: Actually, I am not that hungry. I can endure it. Once I fall asleep, I won’t feel it anymore.

Who would have thought that as soon as she finished speaking, her uncooperative stomach let out another loud growl.

It instantly dismantled the excuse she had built for herself.

Wen Yicong: ...

Mo Shaoshang stared at her, his eyebrows arching with interest.

Wen Yicong was so embarrassed her face turned even redder, almost as if it were steaming. After thinking for a few seconds, an idea suddenly popped into her mind. She raised her eyes to look at Mo Shaoshang, and with the courage of someone who had given up on saving face, she suddenly asked: What about you? Are you hungry?

Mo Shaoshang’s gaze flickered, as if he had not expected her to ask such a question, and he remained silent.

Wen Yicong cleared her throat and continued, testing the waters: Actually, I know how to cook. If you are hungry too, Mr. Mo, I could make us both something simple. That way, we can fill our stomachs without disturbing the chefs. It is the best of both worlds...

She paused, muttering in a low voice, Of course, if you are not hungry, then forget it. Pretend I never said anything.

Mo Shaoshang’s gaze shifted, passing over her flushed cheeks and her eyes, which sparkled with anticipation and nervousness, and the corner of his mouth curled slightly.

Let’s go.

... Wen Yicong blinked, not reacting in time. Go where?

Mo Shaoshang had already turned and was walking toward the kitchen, saying nonchalantly: Let’s see what ingredients we have.

*

The kitchen at Mo Family Manor was spacious, divided into Chinese and Western sections. The Chinese section was fully equipped with stoves and a range hood perfectly embedded in the ceiling; the Western section featured a massive central island, complete with built-in ovens, steamers, and coffee machines.

The entire wall of refrigerated cabinets and refrigerators served as a professional pantry, displaying top-tier ingredients from all over the world: the marbling of Japanese Wagyu beef was as exquisite as marble, French Gillardeau oysters lay quietly on crushed ice, Italian black truffles were carefully stored in temperature-controlled boxes, along with various rare mushrooms and organic vegetables whose names she did not know.

Mo Shaoshang and Wen Yicong walked one after another to the refrigerator and opened it.

A rush of cold air hit them, and the neatly organized ingredients were dazzling.

Wen Yicong carefully selected from the array of ingredients. Finally, acting on the principle of simplicity and speed, she took out two exquisitely packaged steaks and a piece of butter, placing them on the preparation counter.

She picked up a knife and was just about to trim the fat from the edges of the steak when a shadow moved beside her.

Wen Yicong glanced to the side and saw that Mo Shaoshang had already removed his suit jacket, leaving him in only a black silk shirt and a matching slim-fit suit vest.

His sleeves were rolled up casually, revealing arms with smooth lines and cool, pale skin. He looked noble and stern, yet possessed a sense of relaxed ease.

He walked straight to the sink, carefully washed his hands with disinfectant, and wiped them dry with a towel. Then, he grabbed a paper towel and patted the blood off the surface of the steak.

He turned on the gas stove, and a deep blue flame instantly rose.

At the same time, Mo Shaoshang took a thick-bottomed pan and placed it on the fire. When the pan was slightly heated, he added the butter. The butter melted rapidly, releasing a rich, milky aroma. As the steak entered the pan, a faint sizzling sound filled the air, and a few droplets of oil splattered.

His series of movements were fluid and composed, without a hint of a novice’s panic or clumsiness. Every step was precise and elegant, a sight to behold.

It was as if he were conducting a precise experiment.

Watching this scene, Wen Yicong’s eyes widened, her face full of shock and disbelief. She couldn’t help but blurt out: Mr. Mo, you... you actually know how to pan-sear a steak?

Mo Shaoshang used tongs to flip the steak and glanced at her, his tone as usual: Is that strange?

Wen Yicong nodded honestly: You have a professional chef team here; there shouldn’t be any time when you need to cook for yourself. It is indeed a bit strange...

Mo Shaoshang said calmly: This is my first time pan-searing a steak. He paused, then added faintly, If it doesn’t taste good, I hope Teacher Wen will forgive me.

First time?

Wen Yicong was dumbfounded, even more incredulous: But you look so practiced; you don’t look like someone who is cooking for the first time at all. She stopped there, her curiosity fully piqued, and couldn’t help but ask again, Who taught you this?

Mo Shaoshang shook his head, his expression as calm as water: No one taught me.

Since childhood, Mo Shaoshang had been strictly trained according to the standards of a Mo Family heir. What he had to learn far exceeded the basic courses in school. It was a comprehensive system combining knowledge, intellect, connections, and vision—vast and rigorous.

Beyond the mandatory mastery of finance, macro and microeconomics, and strategic management, he had to systematically study leadership development, communication and negotiation skills, extreme emotional management, adversity quotient improvement, global elite etiquette and social skills, multiple languages, humanities and history, art appreciation, and various elite sports, such as equestrianism, fencing, and golf...

Cooking was not on that list.

Wen Yicong blinked suspiciously: Then how did you learn to pan-sear a steak?

Mo Shaoshang: I watched the chef do it a few times.

This answer left Wen Yicong completely speechless. To be able to replicate it so perfectly after watching it only a few times—what kind of observation, memory, and execution was this?

Wen Yicong didn’t know what to say and fell silent.

Before long, the two seared steaks were plated on preheated white porcelain plates, garnished with asparagus and cherry tomatoes for a beautiful presentation.

The two sat opposite each other at the long table in the dining room.

Wen Yicong picked up her knife and fork, carefully cut a piece of steak, skewered it, put it in her mouth, and chewed slowly.

The meat was tender and juicy, charred on the outside and tender on the inside, with the aroma of butter fully infused. It tasted surprisingly good.

Her eyes lit up, and she immediately praised him without hesitation: It is delicious.

Mo Shaoshang smiled faintly: Thank you for the compliment. While speaking, he also picked up his own knife and fork.

Wen Yicong subconsciously looked at Mo Shaoshang’s plate.

The next second, the sharp blade cut off a small piece of meat from the edge, and in the blink of an eye, dark red blood slowly seeped out along the grain of the beef, standing out starkly against the white porcelain plate...

Seeing that his portion of beef was almost entirely raw, out of concern, Wen Yicong blurted out: Your portion still has a lot of blood on it; maybe you should take it back and sear it a bit more... The rest of her words died in her throat.

Mo Shaoshang’s thin lips parted slightly, and he had already put the bloody piece of beef into his mouth, chewing slowly and elegantly. A moment later, his Adam’s apple bobbed, and he swallowed the meat.

... Wen Yicong swallowed dryly, her brain uncontrollably conjuring up a bloody image of this noble man using his snow-white, neat teeth to calmly tear and crush raw meat.

By some strange impulse, she associated him with a beast in the grasslands entering a hunting state—primitive, brutal, and terrifying.

A night breeze blew in from the half-open window of the dining room, carrying the chill of late autumn, and Wen Yicong shivered slightly.

Opposite her.

After swallowing the meat in his mouth, Mo Shaoshang lifted his lashes to look at her, his tone still gentle yet carrying a nonchalant casualness: What was Teacher Wen about to say?

Wen Yicong hurriedly collected her thoughts, lowered her head to eat her own steak to hide the turmoil in her heart, and said: Nothing. It is just that your beef looked a bit raw, and I was going to suggest you sear it a bit more.

Mo Shaoshang said flatly: I am used to it.

Wen Yicong lowered her head and ate silently, saying nothing more, the impact of what she had just seen still lingering in her heart.

It was past one in the morning when she returned to her bedroom.

After bidding farewell to Mo Shaoshang and closing the door, the sharp pressure in the surrounding air finally vanished.

Only then did Wen Yicong let out a long sigh.

Spending two hours with this employer was truly more exhausting than taking care of a child for a whole day, she thought miserably.

*

The next morning, Wen Yicong received a call from her mother, Shen Yulan.

Shen Yulan told her on the phone that all of her grandfather’s test reports were out. After a comprehensive assessment of the indicators, the doctor confirmed that, besides being diagnosed with Vertigo, the old man had mild hypertension, but neither was a life-threatening issue. After a few more days of observation with intravenous drips, he could be discharged without any major problems.

Upon hearing this news, the final stone that had been weighing on Wen Yicong’s heart finally fell.

She refocused all her attention back on Airi.

In the evening, an autumn rain began to fall in Jinghai, drizzling steadily. The scent of moist earth and the freshness of plants intertwined, permeating the air.

Wen Yicong put a child’s raincoat and rain boots on Airi and took the little one to the wooden boardwalk by the manor’s artificial lake.

While experiencing the atmosphere of a rainy day, she conducted sensory stimulation training.

Shallow rainwater had collected on the small clearing. The big one and the little one focused on splashing in the water and jumping in puddles, having a great time.

Just then, without warning, the sound of footsteps mixed with the tapping of raindrops on an umbrella came from the rain curtain behind them.

Wen Yicong sensed something and turned her head subconsciously.

In the hazy rain, Master Heng was walking slowly while holding a black umbrella, followed by a tall, upright figure. Before long, the two approached, and as the edge of the umbrella was lifted slightly, a gentle and handsome face came into Wen Yicong’s view.

Wen Yicong’s eyes widened in shock.

Before Wen Yicong could speak, Master Heng spoke with a smile: Teacher Wen. This is Mr. Pei Xizhou. He came here today specifically to visit the young master.

After hearing Master Heng’s words, Wen Yicong stood frozen in place, looking at the refined Pei Xizhou in the rain, unable to regain her senses for a long time.

Pei Xizhou came to Mo Family Manor... to see Airi?

There was too much information; she couldn’t digest it all at once.

At this moment, Pei Xizhou had already taken long strides over. He walked straight to Airi’s side, crouched down, reached out to pinch the little one’s soft cheek, and smiled faintly, his voice as gentle as the autumn rain: Airi, it has been a long time. Did you miss Uncle Pei?

Airi did not have much of a reaction to the young man who had suddenly appeared.

His blue eyes were a bit unfocused, staring blankly at the distant lake, watching the raindrops create ripples on the surface. He did not answer, did not respond, and did not even look at Pei Xizhou, completely immersed in his own world.

Pei Xizhou did not seem surprised. He rubbed Airi’s head again, then turned to look at Wen Yicong, asking with a gentle smile: May I accompany Airi for a while?

Wen Yicong met Pei Xizhou’s sincere and gentle gaze, then looked at Airi, observing that although the little one had not paid attention to the man, he did not show any rejection or discomfort toward the changes around him.

After thinking for a few seconds, she nodded, then consciously walked to Master Heng’s side and stood still, leaving the space to the man and the child.

After a while, Airi crouched down, picked up a few fallen leaves from the mud soaked by the rain, and pieced them together into the shape of a small boat. Pei Xizhou observed him carefully. Before long, he followed Airi’s example, picking up leaves and starting to piece together his own leaf boat.

Raindrops pattered, falling into the lake and onto their umbrella. There was no verbal communication between the man and the child, only silent companionship and imitation; the atmosphere was quiet and harmonious.

Wen Yicong watched Pei Xizhou and Airi from afar. Driven by intense curiosity, she thought it over and finally couldn’t help but lower her voice and ask Master Heng: Master Heng, what is the relationship between this Mr. Pei and Airi?

Master Heng watched the two figures by the lake, his gaze filled with a mixture of affection and complexity. After hearing Wen Yicong’s question, his eyes dimmed slightly, and after a moment of contemplation, he answered slowly: The Pei Family and the Mo Family were old family friends, and their relationship was very good. When Mr. Pei was seven, his parents unfortunately passed away in an accident, and he became an orphan. Old Man Mo felt sorry for Mr. Pei being alone and helpless at such a young age, so he took him in and raised him to adulthood.

Wen Yicong’s eyes moved suddenly, and a ripple stirred in her heart.

She had not expected that Dr. Pei and the Mo Family had such a deep connection, nor that his background was so arduous... poor thing.

Losing both parents at seven.

Wasn’t that somewhat similar to Airi’s current situation?

No wonder Pei Xizhou’s gaze toward Airi was so gentle and compassionate; perhaps he was seeing his own small self through Airi.

Wen Yicong felt a bit sad. She thought for a moment and added: Judging by Mr. Pei’s appearance, he should be about the same age as Mr. Mo. If he was raised by Old Man Mo since he was seven, then his relationship with Mr. Mo should be very close. But before this, why have I never seen him? And I have never heard anyone mention him.

Master Heng curled his lips, his smile seemingly carrying other meanings. He shook his head and explained: Mr. Mo mainly lived in Europe when he was young, receiving his education and training there. By the time Mr. Mo returned to the country to officially take over the Mo Family, Mr. Pei had already gone abroad for further studies and rarely returned. The two did not have much interaction.

So that was it. Wen Yicong realized.

According to Master Heng, Pei Xizhou was raised by Old Man Mo and, to some extent, grew up in the Mo Family, while Mo Shaoshang only returned from abroad after he was an adult.

Perhaps, while Old Man Mo was alive, these two equally outstanding young men of similar age could maintain a superficial friendliness and balance.

But now, with Old Man Mo having passed away and the entire Mo Family empire handed over to Mo Shaoshang, the relationship between Pei Xizhou, an outsider, and the Mo Family had naturally become increasingly distant, even becoming subtle.

The rain gradually stopped. On the western horizon, the dark clouds dispersed slightly, and the sunset struggled to cast rays of light from behind the clouds, thread by thread, sprinkling shards of gold over half the sky.

By the lake, Pei Xizhou and Airi finished making their boat with leaves and began digging in the mud together with small wooden sticks.

By the time it was near dinner, Airi had turned into a little mud cat. Besides his clothes, his face was covered in mud spots.

The housekeeper heard the news and rushed over, feeling both amused and helpless. She could only join Master Heng in taking Airi to wash his hands, change his clothes, and prepare for dinner.

Only Wen Yicong and Pei Xizhou remained by the artificial lake.

The autumn wind blew quietly.

Noticing the mud stains on the back of Pei Xizhou’s hand, Wen Yicong walked over, took out an individually wrapped wet wipe from her pocket, and handed it to him.

Thank you. Pei Xizhou took the wet wipe, thanked her, wiped the mud stains from his long knuckles, and then stood up, throwing the used wipe into the trash can.

Wen Yicong looked at him, a sincere smile blooming on her face, and sighed: Dr. Pei, I really didn’t expect to see you here. It is such a coincidence.

It is indeed a coincidence. Pei Xizhou curled his lips toward her, stood straight, his gaze falling on her face with gentle warmth, his tone carrying a hint of teasing: I heard Master Heng mention before that Mo Shaoshang had hired a very professional rehabilitation expert for Airi and that the intervention was working very well. I had been curious about who this expert was. I didn’t expect it to be you.

Wen Yicong laughed out loud upon hearing this, waving her hands: Dr. Pei, please don’t make fun of me. Compared to a real medical expert like you, I am at most a half-baked amateur, still constantly learning.

Teacher Wen is being too modest. Pei Xizhou laughed, his kind eyes shining, You are my nephew’s rehabilitation teacher, and I happen to be your grandfather’s attending physician. If you look at it that way, we are quite fated.

Hearing him say this, Wen Yicong also raised her eyebrows playfully, nodding with feigned seriousness, and echoed: Yes, Dr. Pei is right; we are quite fated.

The two looked at each other and smiled, the atmosphere relaxed and harmonious.

As they chatted, they walked side by side toward the villa’s dining room.

As if suddenly remembering something, Pei Xizhou turned his head to look at the young woman beside him: By the way, the comprehensive assessment report for your grandfather is all out. It is confirmed to be Vertigo and mild hypertension. It is not a big problem; just take the medicine on time and pay attention to the diet. You don’t need to worry.

Yes, I know. Wen Yicong gave him a grateful smile, her eyes curving into crescents, My mother already called and told me. I still have to thank you, Dr. Pei; you have worked hard.

Pei Xizhou’s smile was relaxed, his tone gentle: Treating illnesses and saving people is my job; it is my duty. Why thank me?

Just then, a breeze carrying the chill of the rain swept past, rolling up a few fallen leaves on the ground.

Pei Xizhou noticed something, and his footsteps faltered slightly.

Wen Yicong sensed his hesitation and stopped as well, blinking in confusion: What is wrong?

*

Not far away, on the open-air viewing deck on the third floor of the villa.

Mo Shaoshang lowered his eyelids, looking at the boardwalk by the artificial lake, his face expressionless.

In his field of vision, the tall man was looking at the young woman. He didn’t speak, but naturally took a step closer to her, then reached out to take a leaf from her slightly messy curly hair. The girl was stunned, and after coming to her senses, she seemed embarrassed, her cheeks slightly red, and she laughed while saying something to the man.

The distance was too great for Mo Shaoshang to hear the specific content of their conversation, but under the sunset that had just emerged after the rain, the man and the girl smiling at each other and acting close—this scene, which looked like a match made in heaven, made Mo Shaoshang feel incredibly harsh to the eyes.

The document in his hand was crumpled.

How many times has it been?

How many times has she shown such an unguarded smile to other men?

The man who sent her out of the bar, that Latin-French man named Sebastian, and now another Pei Xizhou.

Why has she never smiled at him like that?

Why is it that the scenes he has fantasized about countless times—being close to her, touching her—can be so easily realized by another man?

Mo Shaoshang stared straight at that charming, smiling face, and deep within his blue-black eyes, a storm was silently gathering and churning.

The string in his mind called reason was stretched to the limit, nearly on the verge of snapping.

A possessiveness so strong it was irresistible, dark and pathological, like a beast breaking free from its cage, swept through Mo Shaoshang’s entire mind in just a few seconds.

He wanted to possess her.

He wanted her eyes to see only him, her ears to hear only him, and her soft lips to bloom with smiles only for him, and to bear only his violent yet gentle kisses.

He wanted to brand her with his mark, inside and out, and have her belong to him forever.

She is his.

She can only be his.

His alone.

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

Author’s note: Momo: My mental defenses are shattered 😭

——————

Random 100 red envelopes~