Her Only One.

After reading the new reply that popped up on her phone, Wen Yicong's heart eased slightly.

Many ASD children have allergic constitutions, sensitive to various foods or objects. Among the ASD children she had worked with, their allergens were all manner of things—milk, fish, shellfish, green peas, wheat... raising them was difficult, causing countless parents indescribable hardship.

Airi had no food allergies, which was undoubtedly very good news.

Wen Yicong replied with a 'you're welcome.'

Setting down her phone, she pulled out a thermal container printed with cloud patterns from the cabinet, washed and dried it, then poured in the chicken soup along with the meat and vegetables.

This thermal container was a gift she'd received at the beginning of the year when she bought an air fryer—she had never used it before.

It looked small, but unexpectedly held quite a lot.

Once the thermal container was full, only half of the chicken soup remained in the clay pot.

Wen Yicong carefully sealed the thermal container and placed it in the refrigerator, then began preparing her own dinner.

Shen Yulan's cooking was truly beyond reproach.

Wen Yicong cooked some noodles and ate a full large bowl with the chicken soup. As she ate, she couldn't help but ponder silently:

A family as wealthy as the Mo Family had probably long grown tired of every delicacy under heaven. Would the little one like the chicken soup she had prepared?

But it didn't matter if he didn't.

A mother's abundant love, enjoyed by herself alone, was also not bad.

*

Special education is an industry that requires a sense of mission.

In Wen Yicong's view, this statement was not a grand, hollow slogan, but something that should be firmly rooted in every rehabilitation teacher's heart.

From the next morning until afternoon, she continuously refined the intervention plan for Airi.

Before departing, out of respect for her employer's family, Wen Yicong applied light makeup as usual and carefully paired a light knit top with pants in the same color family, maximizing her approachable presence.

At 2:50 in the afternoon, Wen Yicong dragged her suitcase to the Fountain Roundabout.

The slanting sun was lazy; the fountain's water curtain was dispersed by the autumn wind into a gentle mist, softly enveloping the surroundings. Water droplets reflected the autumn sun, echoing the gradient ginkgo leaves from afar.

Wen Yicong stood amid it, as if within a flowing golden painting.

Before long, a black sedan drove into the roundabout, smoothly approaching Wen Yicong's side.

The luxury car moved in silence, but whether through its sleek, cold body lines or its four clean-as-new wheels, it exuded a powerful, invisible pressure that was impossible to ignore.

Wen Yicong couldn't help but steal a few more glances.

At the emblem's position was a pair of silver metallic wings, with a string of English letters beginning with 'A' engraved in their center; the entire emblem radiated a cold, austere gleam, appearing silent and sharp.

She didn't know what brand it was.

Shortly, the black sedan came to a stop, and the passenger-side door opened from inside.

Guessing someone was about to alight, afraid of blocking them, she instinctively moved a few steps away with her suitcase.

The next second, a familiar voice came from above: 'Teacher Wen, apologies for the long wait.'

Wen Yicong looked up and saw Lin Ke, slightly startled. 'Hello, Assistant Lin. Sorry, I didn't recognize you just now...'

Lin Ke took Wen Yicong's suitcase with one hand and pulled open the rear door with the other, gesturing for her to get in.

'Thank you.' Wen Yicong cast a grateful glance toward Assistant Lin, bent down, and prepared to take her seat.

But at the moment she lowered her head, her gaze unexpectedly plunged into the depths of the car—

In the rear seating area sat a person, perfectly composed.

A breeze blew, and the Fountain Roundabout's waters gurgled.

The afternoon sunlight filtered through the car window, softening the cold, hard contours of the man's profile, yet did not melt his innate air of distance. His eyes were slightly closed—whether dozing or simply resting, one couldn't tell. The thin chain of his gold-rimmed glasses hung by his cheek, perfectly still. His fingertips rested casually on his crossed knees, his posture cold and elegant, like a meticulously composed black-and-white silent film.

The entire space was saturated with a silent yet overwhelming pressure.

'...' Wen Yicong's movements suddenly froze.

She maintained her bent posture, her upper body caught at the car door—unable to advance or retreat.

She clearly felt her heart in her chest first tighten, then begin to pound, its rhythm thrown into disarray.

He...

Why was he here too?

Assistant Lin hadn't mentioned a word.

It was too sudden; she had no mental preparation.

Surprise and panic assailed her together; Wen Yicong's brain nearly crashed for a moment, and her fingers unconsciously tightened around the strap of the bag holding the thermal container.

The man's overwhelmingly intense presence compressed the car's limited space even further; even the air seemed to thin, making it hard for her to breathe.

Beside her.

Lin Ke waited a moment, noticed Wen Yicong's oddity, and gently prompted: 'Teacher Wen?'

Wen Yicong heard him, came back to herself, quietly took a deep breath, and steeled herself to sit inside the car.

A soft 'thud'—the door was closed by Assistant Lin.

This car whose name Wen Yicong couldn't recall had excellent soundproofing; once the door closed, the street sounds were instantly shut out. The entire car interior was terribly quiet—Wen Yicong could even clearly hear her own chaotic, disordered heartbeat.

Restrained and silent, she could only press herself as close to the door as possible, keeping distance from the dangerous source on the inside.

She couldn't figure out why...

But this man made her deeply uneasy.

After a brief while, Lin Ke finished with the suitcase and returned to the passenger seat.

The vehicle slowly started, smoothly merging into traffic.

A suffocating dead silence continued to spread through the car.

Wen Yicong stared rigidly forward, her back straight. Though she hadn't looked much, every sense in her body uncontrollably focused on the left side of the seat.

She could hear his breathing—steady, regular, so light it was almost imperceptible. She could smell the faint, cool fragrance on him, extracted from some expensive wood she couldn't identify, thread by thread, wisp by wisp, lingering at her nose, stimulating her nerves, making her increasingly tense.

Wen Yicong suddenly thought: she should take the initiative to greet him.

But his eyes were closed, he neither spoke nor moved—he looked as if he were already asleep.

If she spoke rashly and offended him, what then?

Could they just remain silent? Wouldn't that seem impolite...

Wen Yicong felt embarrassed, caught in a dilemma.

Just then, a magnetic, low voice suddenly rang out, sounding casual: 'Good afternoon, Teacher Wen.'

Wen Yicong heard it, her fingertips trembled—she didn't know whether to feel relieved or more alarmed—and could only politely respond: 'Good afternoon to you as well.'

'Mo Shaoshang.'

'...' Wen Yicong was slightly stunned, didn't react, and instinctively turned to look at him. With a question in her eyes.

'I forgot to introduce myself yesterday.' Mo Shaoshang lifted his eyelids. 'I'm Mo Shaoshang.'

Wen Yicong was somewhat surprised.

A real name is personal privacy. Normally, an employer has no obligation to tell a rehabilitation therapist their name.

She was a bit at a loss, unsure how to respond.

Fortunately, after a few seconds of thought, Wen Yicong returned to normal. She curved her eyes and the corner of her mouth, offering a compliment: 'That's a very nice name.'

Mo Shaoshang looked calmly at the young rehabilitation therapist.

From the first second she appeared today, he had noticed she was very ill at ease.

Despite her efforts to remain composed, even if she suppressed her breathing as lightly as possible, she couldn't conceal the disorder between breaths.

Like a herbivore that had strayed into a predator's territory.

And now, the herbivore smiled.

Compared to 'ill at ease' and 'flustered,' a smile clearly suited this small, fair face better: the corners of her mouth lifted, her eyes curved along with them, evoking two crescents of new moon unfurling in the night sky; her eyelashes trembled slightly with the movement of her eyes, casting soft shadows beneath them.

It seemed that when she looked at you with that gentle, smiling gaze, you became the only one in her world.

Her only one.

'Right.'

At this moment, those curved lips gently parted and closed, and under his gaze, made sound once more. Like an unadulterated stream, shallow and warm: 'Mr. Mo, why are you here?'

'Passing by.' Mo Shaoshang answered.

His gaze behind the lenses shifted down a few inches, settling firmly on the young girl's lips.

Her lips looked different from yesterday.

She had changed her lipstick color.

'I see.' Wen Yicong nodded in understanding.

This answer was actually within her expectations.

Although she didn't know this family's identity or background, anyone who could have such a large Manor House in the Nanjing Suburbs was surely a person of importance.

How could someone like that deliberately waste their time on her?

Whether out of fear that not talking would make the atmosphere awkward, or for some other reason, after a brief silence of a few seconds, Wen Yicong quickly opened a new topic.

With a professional, kindly smile on her face, she said: 'Mr. Mo, after I went back yesterday, I made some refinements and additions to the plan. I promise you that during my employment, I will do my utmost to provide help for you and your family. At the same time, this process also requires us to work together.'

'As far as I know, you are the child's sole guardian. Subsequently, I will also arrange some courses for you, teaching you some ASD Children family intervention techniques.'

Mo Shaoshang showed no emotion; after listening, he merely nodded: 'Mm.'

After this exchange, the car interior fell into silence once more.

Wen Yicong sat quietly for a while, then stole a sidelong glance.

Mo Shaoshang's gaze on her had at some unknown point already shifted away. He looked out the car window; from Wen Yicong's angle, she could only see a profile—noble and aloof, incomparably handsome.

She withdrew her gaze and, almost imperceptibly, bit her lip.

This employer was cold, taciturn, and at the same time powerful and unpredictable—completely impossible to read.

To be honest, Wen Yicong truly didn't want to deal with this person.

But there was no choice.

After moving into Mo Manor, there would be more contact; she could only get used to it as quickly as possible.

Wen Yicong gently exhaled, giving herself a mental pep talk.

At this moment, Assistant Lin in the passenger seat seemed to remember something, turned to look at Wen Yicong, and said: 'Teacher Wen, please give me your contact information. Later, salary transfers will require some basic information.'

After hearing this, Wen Yicong was visibly startled, then a trace of confusion appeared on her face: 'Doesn't Assistant Lin have my number?'

Assistant Lin shook his head.

Doesn't have it?

Wen Yicong blurted out in surprise: 'How can that be? Haven't you been texting me these past few days?'

After hearing this, Lin Ke, wisely and tactfully, fell silent.

After a moment, in the absolute silence, a magnetic, cool voice rang out, in a tone as casual as discussing the weather, resolving her confusion for her: 'Teacher Wen seems to have had a bit of a misunderstanding.'

Wen Yicong: 'What misunderstanding?'

Mo Shaoshang looked at her with his usual expression and said: 'The one who's been in contact with you is me.'

Author's note: ---------------------- Nong Nong: Scared me half to death, haha. Red packets will rain down for everyone.