Caress

What did he say? This steaming bowl of fresh shrimp noodles—he made it himself? Wen Yicong froze. She blinked, looked down at the noodles on the table, then up at the cold, stern man in his suit with his indifferent expression. For a moment, the sheer contrast nearly overwhelmed her. Good heavens. Those hands that controlled the flow of billions had actually cooked her a bowl of noodles? It took a full three seconds before Wen Yicong found her voice again. She cleared her throat and couldn’t help asking, her voice trembling with surprise, ‘You… you can cook noodles?’ Across from her, Mo Shaoshang had already sat back down, his blue-black eyes fixed on her calmly. After hearing her question, his expression didn’t change at all. He simply answered, ‘Compared to searing a steak, boiling noodles doesn’t seem difficult.’ Oh, right. This man learned fast—he could replicate almost anything after watching it a few times. Back at Mo Manor, she had seen him perfectly recreate a five-star chef’s steak just by recalling the chef’s technique… But even after witnessing Mo Shaoshang sear a steak, facing this scene now still left her incredulous. She simply couldn’t imagine him in an apron, cold-faced, peeling shrimp and frying eggs in the kitchen. The image was fragmented, impossible to piece together, yet strangely it softened something in her heart. Wen Yicong’s mind buzzed, lost in shock, her face blank, unable to snap out of it for a long time. Just then, Mo Shaoshang’s gaze swept over her leg, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. He spoke again, ‘Your knee is still injured. Isn’t it tiring to stand?’ At his words, Wen Yicong finally jolted back to reality, realizing she was still standing there foolishly. Indeed. The wound on her knee still ached, the pull obvious. Her face warmed, and she quickly looked away, moving to a chair and sitting down carefully. The noodles before her looked and smelled delicious, whetting her appetite. Having gone hungry all night, her stomach had long been growling. She couldn’t help but purse her lips slightly. Mo Shaoshang caught her cute little movement and gave a faint smile. ‘Please, go ahead.’ ‘Thank you, Mr. Mo. I won’t stand on ceremony.’ Wen Yicong murmured her thanks, then picked up her chopsticks and began to eat. The noodles tasted surprisingly good. The broth was fresh and light, the shrimp bouncy, the soft-boiled egg cooked just right, and the noodles themselves were perfectly tender. It was the kind of simple, heartfelt cooking that warms the stomach. It seemed… maybe he wasn’t so hard to get along with. A trace of warmth crept into her heart, and the corners of her mouth lifted slightly as she continued eating earnestly. Across the table, Mo Shaoshang watched her silently, his gaze unwavering. The only sounds in the dining room were the faint clink of utensils and the young woman eating in small bites, like a herbivore drinking intently by a stream. The sunlight grew brighter, flooding the space with warmth and casting a soft glow on her fair, clean face, making it look flushed and tender. Soft, charming, radiantly beautiful. It subtly overlapped with his memory of her flushed, enticing face from last night’s passion. When she lowered her head, a strand of black hair slipped playfully to her cheek, swaying with her chewing. Mo Shaoshang remembered clearly how that strand had wound around his fingers last night. Her lips were now unconsciously sucking the broth from the tip of her chopsticks. The swelling on her soft lips had subsided, but they were still full, moist, and pink—completely different from the crimson that had been crushed and kissed nearly to pieces by him last night… Mo Shaoshang took in every move of the herbivore, greedily absorbing every detail. The slight puff of her cheeks as she ate, the pout of her lips as she blew on the noodles, the occasional furrow of her brow from the discomfort in her knee, and the habitual little gesture of rubbing her earlobe every few seconds. Memory and reality cut through his mind like two sharp blades. Every image was a cruel temptation. A surge of heat rose from deep within him, destructive, nearly tearing apart the calm facade Mo Shaoshang had so carefully maintained. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to tear off the tie that symbolized restraint and decorum, pull her into his arms, and fiercely kiss that tempting little mouth. He wanted to touch the slide of her throat with his fingertips, to bite her collarbone, to feel her pulse race because of him. He wanted her. He wanted to let go completely, to lose all control. He wanted to make her break down crying, to make her climax hysterically. These thoughts grew like poisoned vines in Mo Shaoshang’s heart, pushed to the extreme by her unwitting swallowing and the occasional flash of her pink tongue between her lips. Only God knew how much effort it took for him to restrain the violent urge to drag her into his arms and mess her up. After a moment, Mo Shaoshang lowered his eyes, picked up his black coffee, and took a sip. The bitter richness spread on his tongue. Wait a little longer, he told himself. Be patient. Weave the web. Make her willingly fall into this deep sea that belongs only to him. Willingly sink with him, into eternal damnation. ‘After breakfast, we’ll go to the Hospital Complex.’ Suddenly, Mo Shaoshang spoke, his tone as calm as ever. ‘Hospital Complex?’ Wen Yicong looked up from behind her bowl, a bit of soup still on her lips, staring at him blankly. ‘Didn’t we already treat the wound last night? There’s no need to go to the Hospital Complex. It’s just a small injury—it’s already scabbed over.’ As she spoke, she instinctively touched her bruised knee. ‘The wound is on a joint; it’s prone to infection, and we need to check if the ligaments are damaged.’ Mo Shaoshang set down his coffee cup, his gaze falling on the spot where her knee was, though he couldn’t see it through the tablecloth. ‘Getting an X-ray and having a doctor treat it would be safer.’ His consideration was thorough and reasonable, entirely for her health, and Wen Yicong couldn’t find any grounds to argue. Whether it was the care and thoughtfulness in his words that loosened the barriers in her heart, or something else, after a moment of silence, she chose to agree. ‘Alright, I’ll follow your arrangement.’ Wen Yicong mumbled in response. But as soon as she said it, she remembered something and quickly added, ‘But if we go to the Hospital Complex, it might affect Airi’s daytime lessons today. Maybe we should…’ ‘It’s just a checkup; it won’t take much time.’ Mo Shaoshang said seriously. ‘I suggest you worry about your own body first, Teacher Wen.’ Since the employer had spoken, Wen Yicong naturally didn’t argue further. She fell silent. Just then, a slight sound came from the entrance. Wen Yicong noticed and turned her head to see Lin Ke’s figure appear at the dining room entrance. He had clearly been there for a while. Meeting her gaze, Assistant Lin smiled politely and said, ‘Good morning, Teacher Wen.’ ‘Good morning, Assistant Lin.’ Wen Yicong smiled back. Then Lin Ke walked slowly to Mo Shaoshang’s side, bent slightly, and reported in a low but clear voice, ‘Sir, Old Master Qiao called, inviting you to the Qiao Family’s old residence for lunch today. He said he’s acquired some fine tea and would like you to taste it.’ Mo Shaoshang’s expression didn’t change, as if he had expected it. ‘Reply to the old master, thank him for his kindness. But I’m returning to Jinggang City today, and time is tight. Next time I’m in Nanjing City, I’ll definitely pay a visit.’ ‘Yes.’ Lin Ke acknowledged, then paused and added, ‘Also, the payment for last night’s Auction has been settled. The ‘Devotion’ necklace will be escorted by Yunguzhai’s professionals to the Manor House in Jinggang City. And…’ Here, his gaze flickered briefly over Wen Yicong, who was quietly eating, and his voice dropped even lower, ‘Regarding Teacher Wen’s basic information, it has been compiled as per your earlier instructions.’ The last sentence was so soft that only Mo Shaoshang could hear it. Mo Shaoshang nodded without replying. Lin Ke hesitated for a few seconds, his expression uncertain. Mo Shaoshang glanced at him. ‘Speak if you have something to say.’ At this, Lin Ke lowered his voice further. ‘Miss Qiao had people inquire about Teacher Wen last night.’ As the words fell, Mo Shaoshang’s fingers, which had been toying with his coffee cup, paused almost imperceptibly. The next second, a cold, sharp glint flashed through his blue-black eyes, too fast to catch. He slowly set the cup back on the saucer with a crisp click. ‘I see.’ His tone remained flat, but it sent a chill down Lin Ke’s spine. Across from them, Lin Ke’s voice was too low for Wen Yicong to hear clearly, but words like ‘Old Master Qiao’ and ‘Miss Qiao’ drifted into her ears. Her hand gripping the chopsticks tightened unconsciously. That arrogant, willful young lady… Recalling that bright, beautiful face, she instinctively looked at Mo Shaoshang. By now, his expression had returned to normal, as if the momentary coldness had been an illusion. He looked at Wen Yicong and saw that she had eaten most of the noodles in her bowl. He asked softly, ‘Finished, Teacher Wen?’ ‘Yes, it was really delicious. Thank you, Mr. Mo.’ Wen Yicong put down her chopsticks and said sincerely. The bowl of noodles had indeed soothed her empty stomach and relaxed her tense nerves from the night. Mo Shaoshang turned to Lin Ke beside him. ‘Arrange the car. We’ll go to the Central Hospital Complex first.’ Assistant Lin nodded. ‘Yes.’ Hearing the exchange, Wen Yicong wanted to go back to her room to change clothes, but as she moved, she suddenly remembered: yesterday she had gone to the Auction in the dress Mo Shaoshang gave her—where would she find other clothes to change into? ‘Um, Mr. Mo…’ she began awkwardly, ‘I didn’t expect to stay overnight in Nanjing City, so I didn’t bring any clothes… Maybe we should forget it. I’m fine; I don’t really need to go to the Hospital Complex.’ At this, Lin Ke smiled. ‘Didn’t you see, Teacher Wen? There are clothes prepared for you in the bedroom—all new.’ ‘Ah?’ Wen Yicong was surprised and stood up directly, but the sudden movement sent a sharp pain through her knee, stiffening her spine. Just then, Mo Shaoshang had already walked around the table to her side and extended an arm to her, naturally. ‘…’ Wen Yicong’s eyes flickered. She looked up at him, puzzled. ‘Hold on to it,’ he said flatly. ‘I’ll take you back to your room to change.’ …Did he mean for her to use him as a human crutch? Staring at the arm offered to her, Wen Yicong blinked her big eyes. After a few seconds of hesitation, she took a deep breath and gently placed her hand on it. The man’s arm was firm and strong, the power beneath the suit fabric palpable. With Mo Shaoshang’s support, walking was indeed much easier. Wen Yicong’s cheeks burned, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, but she tried her best to stay calm and composed on the surface. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting warm, dappled light. The man and the woman moved side by side toward the bedroom, neither speaking. Throughout the process, Wen Yicong mostly kept her eyes on the ground, focusing on her steps, only occasionally stealing a glance at Mo Shaoshang out of the corner of her eye. The man’s cold profile, bathed in the morning light, seemed to have softened a little. His kindness to her was real—both the bowl of noodles and this considerate support. But at the same time, that pervasive sense of control, and the fleeting coldness in his eyes when Lin Ke had spoken, made her acutely aware of the violent side hidden beneath his gentle facade. Like a glacier beneath the deep sea—vast and dangerous… That short distance felt extraordinarily long. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally reached the bedroom door. ‘Please wait a moment. I’ll change my clothes,’ Wen Yicong said softly. Mo Shaoshang’s clear eyes watched her without a word. Back in the bedroom, she closed the door. Wen Yicong leaned against the door panel and let out a soft breath. After a moment, when her churning emotions finally settled, she walked to the dressing room, tentatively reached out, and opened the left wardrobe door. Sure enough, just as Assistant Lin had said, several sets of brand-new women’s clothes hung neatly inside, ranging from casual to slightly formal, all made of fine fabric with simple, elegant styles. Beside them were unopened underwear and socks. All perfectly matched her size. ‘…’ Looking at the clothes, Wen Yicong’s eyes flickered, and her cheeks flushed uncontrollably again. How meticulous was that man’s mind? In the end, she chose a cream-colored knit top and light gray trousers—soft, loose, and unlikely to rub against her knee wound. After changing, she looked at her flushed face in the mirror and slapped her cheeks hard. Snap out of it. First, get the wound treated, then return to Jinggang City. Airi was waiting for his lessons. As for this messy business with Mo Shaoshang… whatever, she’d deal with it later.

Meanwhile, in the dining area. Lin Ke hadn’t left. He stood beside Mo Shaoshang and said in a low voice, ‘Sir, should we intervene with Miss Qiao? I’m worried she might harm Teacher Wen.’ Mo Shaoshang walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, lowered his eyelids, and looked down at the waking city and the winding river below. The sunlight fell on his straight back, bringing no warmth. ‘Not yet,’ he said calmly, in Italian. ‘I want to see how capable these fools really are.’ Lin Ke understood and replied in Italian as well, ‘Understood.’ ‘Also,’ Mo Shaoshang’s gaze shifted toward the direction of Wen Yicong’s bedroom, the coldness in his eyes instantly replaced by deep focus, ‘Protect her. I won’t allow any accident to happen to Wen Yicong.’ ‘Yes.’

When Wen Yicong came out after changing, Lin Ke had already prepared the car and was waiting at the door. A black Bentley—much more understated than last night’s Rolls-Royce Phantom, but still showcasing the owner’s exceptional taste. Mo Shaoshang stood by the car, still in his usual immaculate attire: suit and tie, gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze falling on her, calm and unreadable. Watching her walk out somewhat awkwardly, he stepped forward and extended his arm again. ‘No need, Mr. Mo. I can manage…’ Wen Yicong instinctively waved her hand to decline. Mo Shaoshang didn’t withdraw his arm, just looked at her silently. The pressure was intangible yet sharp, seeping into every inch of the surrounding air. After a moment, Wen Yicong bit her lip and gave in, finally placing her hand lightly on his arm, using his strength to get into the back seat of the Bentley. The engine started, and the car smoothly merged into Nanjing City’s morning traffic. The interior was quiet, only the low hum of the engine. Mo Shaoshang sat beside Wen Yicong, continuing to handle work on his tablet, his profile cold. Wen Yicong turned her gaze out the window, watching the street scenes and the blue sky and white clouds above, forcing herself to focus elsewhere. But Mo Shaoshang’s presence was too strong. The faint, pleasant scent of cedar on him, the soft clicks of him tapping on the tablet, even his steady breathing—all were so clear. Completely involuntarily, Wen Yicong found herself thinking again about last night’s burning kiss and those ambiguous, fiery touches… Her face flushed again. She took a deep breath and quietly edged closer to the car door.

The car soon arrived at Nanjing City’s International Hospital. Lin Ke parked in front of a quiet, independent building. Doctors and nurses in white coats were already waiting at the entrance, all refined and respectful. The examination went more smoothly and quickly than Wen Yicong had expected. In a private VIP consultation room, an elderly doctor with glasses personally examined her wound and asked in detail about her fall in the bathroom last night. After understanding the situation, the doctor ordered an X-ray of her knee. After the X-ray, they waited for the results. In the bright, spacious waiting area, Wen Yicong and Mo Shaoshang sat side by side in silence. Before long, a young female nurse came in carrying a disinfection tray. ‘Hello, Miss Wen. I’ll change your dressing.’ The nurse said with a sweet smile, then crouched down to remove the gauze from Wen Yicong’s knee. The nurse’s movements were very gentle throughout. But because she didn’t know the exact location of the wound, when she peeled off the last layer of gauze, her control was off, and Wen Yicong gasped in pain. ‘Ah, sorry.’ The nurse quickly apologized. Wen Yicong’s face had gone pale from the pain, but she still shook her head with a smile. ‘It’s okay.’ Mo Shaoshang observed this from the side, then stood up and walked over to the nurse. ‘Give me the things.’ His tone was as usual, but carried the unique pressure of someone in power. The nurse clearly recognized him, or at least knew his identity. Without any hesitation, she quickly handed over the tray with the medicine. ‘Mr. Mo, you don’t have to trouble yourself…’ Wen Yicong was stunned and tried to stop him. Before she could finish, Mo Shaoshang had already knelt on one knee in front of her, his tall, imposing figure like a snow peak blocking the light. His eyelashes were lowered, his gaze fixed on the gauze on her knee. ‘I was the one who treated it last night. Are you afraid I’m not professional enough, Teacher Wen?’ ‘No, that’s not it.’ Wen Yicong blushed. ‘I just didn’t want to trouble you.’ Mo Shaoshang didn’t respond. His fingers moved gently and slowly, peeling off the last layer of old gauze. The wound was exposed to the air. Most of the redness and swelling had subsided, the skin around the dark red scab slightly wrinkled. Mo Shaoshang frowned very lightly. Beside them, the nurse wanted to step forward to help, but Lin Ke, standing outside the room, stopped her with a look. The nurse understood and quietly withdrew. Wen Yicong stared fixedly at the man’s cold, focused profile, every nerve in her body tense. When his long, slightly cool fingertips, coated with ointment, gently applied it around the wound, the delicate, cold sensation hit her, overlapping with the memory of his burning fingers roaming her skin last night. ‘…’ Wen Yicong’s face turned crimson, her body trembling almost imperceptibly. Sensing it, Mo Shaoshang paused in his application. He looked up, meeting her eyes. Those blue-black eyes behind the lenses were exceptionally deep, and in the center of his pupils, a small, flushed, delicate face was clearly reflected. Mo Shaoshang looked at her without a word, continuing his movements, but Wen Yicong felt that the pressure of his fingertips seemed even lighter, carrying an indescribable… restraint. Those few minutes felt as long as centuries. Finally, he picked up new gauze and fixed it over her wound. After bandaging, his thumb brushed intentionally or unintentionally over the tender skin at the back of her knee. In that brief instant, the calloused touch sent an electric sensation straight up her spine from her knee. Wen Yicong gasped sharply, her face burning red. ‘Let me give you a suggestion, Teacher Wen,’ Mo Shaoshang said suddenly. Wen Yicong’s throat tightened. She took a quiet breath and murmured, ‘What?’ ‘Don’t look at me like that.’ Mo Shaoshang gazed at her calmly. ‘Your eyes, like your voice, easily make me lose control.’