Gaze.

Wen Yicong's eyes flew wide in shock.

All these days, the person on the other end of her phone wasn't Assistant Lin—it was Mo Shaoshang himself?

Those few casually written words crashed over her like a storm. The impact was so overwhelming that for an instant, the blood in her veins seemed to freeze, her entire body locking up.

What messages had she sent to that phone number?

Forcing herself to stay calm, Wen Yicong's mind raced as she searched her memory.

She'd asked if Airi had any food allergies, confirmed whether the salary really was triple the usual, and—she seemed to recall—she'd even subtly complained that Mo Shaoshang looked really intimidating...

Heavens above, earth below.

At the memory of that soul-baring complaint, Wen Yicong's vision went dark—what had she been thinking, sending that text!

Now look what she'd done.

A moment of mouthy satisfaction, a lifetime of social death.

She'd sent a complaint about him to the man himself. If he hadn't seen it, fine—but if he had, how was she supposed to face him after this...

The more Wen Yicong thought, the more panicked and awkward she felt.

Two patches of fire burned on her porcelain-white cheeks, her ears turning crimson. She wished she could just vanish in a puff of smoke, disappearing from this car.

Just as Wen Yicong sat there, red-faced and at a loss, Assistant Lin's voice came again, pulling her thoughts back from the depths of embarrassment.

'Miss Wen, your contact information?' Lin Ke reminded.

At the sound, Wen Yicong snapped back to reality. She came to, her cheeks still blazing, and stammered out a string of numbers almost incoherently.

Assistant Lin noted it down and asked a few more basic questions.

Wen Yicong answered cooperatively.

Before long, Lin Ke saved the document and explained to Wen Yicong, 'Please rest assured, Miss Wen. The personal information you've provided will only be used for onboarding registration. We'll keep it strictly confidential—your privacy and security are not at risk.'

'Thank you for your trouble,' Wen Yicong said, forcing a smile onto her face.

After this exchange, the car fell silent again.

If Wen Yicong had felt a little restrained before, now her feeling could only be described as 'sitting on pins and needles.'

Her heart was like fifteen buckets drawing water—a tumult of anxiety—and it beat fast.

Thump-thump-thump.

Clutching the insulated thermos full of chicken soup, she quietly breathed in and out, trying to calm herself, her back held straight.

Occasionally, unable to resist, she stole a glance to her left.

After saying 'It was me who contacted you,' Mo Shaoshang hadn't spoken again.

He seemed genuinely tired, his back elegantly reclined, his eyes half-closed once more. His gold-rimmed glasses had been removed at some point, held loosely in his hand in a relaxed, casual grip.

Wen Yicong observed him carefully.

There was a unique quality to this man.

His aura was sharp, intensely commanding, yet every gesture carried an air of effortless ease, as if all the noise and change around him had nothing to do with him.

He was noble but cold, composed yet brooding—like a deep sea that appeared calm on the surface but was fraught with hidden dangers.

Time seemed to slow down in that moment.

Wen Yicong averted her gaze, adjusted her posture, moving softly and quietly, trying not to make a sound.

She actually preferred him asleep to awake.

She was afraid of the gaze of those blue-black eyes.

*

The rest of the journey passed in silence.

A few minutes later, the Aston Martin passed through the wrought-iron gate and slowly entered the internal road of Mo Manor.

Though she didn't know what Mo Shaoshang did for a living, Wen Yicong could tell her employer was very busy.

As soon as the car stopped at the main entrance of the villa, two foreign men in suits approached.

These tall foreigners had clearly been waiting for some time. Upon seeing Mo Shaoshang, they stepped forward to discuss business with him, mentioning terms like 'new energy' and 'aerospace,' their words and expressions full of respect.

Mo Shaoshang remained expressionless throughout, barely responding.

When the two foreigners finished speaking, he casually waved a hand, signaling them to wait in the tea room.

The two men turned and left with their documents.

The language they used was rich in vowels, interspersed with some rolled 'r' sounds—neither Chinese nor English.

Coincidentally, Wen Yicong had taken a minor course in a foreign language during university, so she immediately recognized it as Italian.

It was at that moment that Wen Yicong blinked, finally realizing something belatedly—

Airi was mixed-race, and he was Mo Shaoshang's own nephew...

Wen Yicong had a sudden epiphany.

No wonder his features were so sharp and three-dimensional, with a hint of fierce, primal beauty... he must have some European blood in him.

Wen Yicong pondered this.

Just then, that tall, imposing figure turned slightly, took a few steps to stand before her, and stopped. His blue-black eyes lowered, calm and unruffled, looking at her.

The distance between them shrank, and Wen Yicong's breath caught.

Earlier, when he was sitting or leaning, she could tell he was tall, and she'd estimated his height in her mind.

But only now, when he stood fully before her, did she realize he was more than just tall.

He was like a silent, dangerous mountain.

Wen Yicong's gaze went straight ahead, only reaching the level of his hard, broad shoulders. His wide shoulders and chest blocked all her view, and a fierce, oppressive pressure swept over her, making her slender frame seem fragile.

She stood in the shadow he cast, as if one more half-step from him would swallow her whole.

The weight of their height and size difference pressed down on her, mixed with the man's aggressive aura, making Wen Yicong's fingertips tremble and her heartbeat falter.

Instinctively, she took a half-step back.

Mo Shaoshang said, 'I have some matters to attend to. The butler will take you to your room.'

'Okay,' Wen Yicong nodded quickly. 'Please go ahead, Mr. Mo.'

Mo Shaoshang added, 'Some daily necessities have been prepared in the bedroom, but they might not be complete. If you need anything, tell the butler—they'll handle it.'

Wen Yicong nodded again. 'I understand. Thank you, Mr. Mo.'

The young girl's rich, gentle face was close at hand. Mo Shaoshang looked at it calmly, then his gaze dropped, sweeping imperceptibly over her two small, fair hands and the thermos she'd been clutching all the way.

'What would you like for dinner, Miss Wen?' Mo Shaoshang asked.

The question seemed to catch the girl off guard.

She froze for a moment, lifting her lashes to look at him, her clear, misty eyes wide and bewildered, like a fawn.

'I...' Wen Yicong didn't know why he was asking, caught unprepared, and blurted out without thinking, 'I can eat anything.'

Hearing this, Mo Shaoshang gave a slight nod. 'Excuse me.'

'Goodbye,' Wen Yicong waved instinctively.

Mo Shaoshang turned and left.

Assistant Lin followed.

The driver took the suitcase out of the car. Wen Yicong had just thanked him when she turned and saw an unfamiliar elderly man.

The man looked to be in his fifties or sixties, his slightly graying hair combed back meticulously, wearing a well-tailored dark suit with a crisp white shirt collar showing. Despite his age, his back was straight, not stooped at all. His face seemed stern, his eyes sharp and calm, carrying an authority unique to an elder.

'Welcome, Miss Wen,' the old man said.

'Hello.'

'I'm the butler here. You can call me Heng Shu.' Butler Heng Shu took the suitcase from Wen Yicong's hands and said with a smile, 'The master has already explained everything. Come, I'll take you to your quarters.'

'Thank you for the trouble, Heng Shu.'

Butler Heng Shu looked stern on the surface, but in actual interaction, he was unexpectedly kind.

On the way to the room with Heng Shu, Wen Yicong chatted with him.

After warming up a bit, her tense nerves relaxed, and she casually asked, 'By the way, Heng Shu, do you live here too?'

'Yes. Besides me, there are other staff members.'

Heng Shu paused for a moment, then added, 'But rest assured, Miss Wen. We only appear when needed. Under normal circumstances, you won't notice our presence. We're here to make your life convenient, not to cause you any trouble.'

Wen Yicong smiled. 'You seem like a very professional team.'

This made Heng Shu curl his lips too, and he said modestly, 'We just do our respective jobs.'

Before long, Heng Shu led Wen Yicong up the spiral staircase to the third floor of the villa.

The corridor was deep and quiet, with abstract paintings full of profound meaning hanging on the walls.

'Miss Wen, this is your room,' the thoughtful old butler stopped in front of a door, his voice steady and gentle. 'Young Master Airi's bedroom is right next door.'

Wen Yicong nodded. 'Okay.'

Heng Shu paused, then cast a faint, almost imperceptible glance toward the far end of the corridor and continued, 'That's Mr. Mo's bedroom over there.'

These words were light, but they dropped like a small pebble into Wen Yicong's heart, stirring faint ripples.

She unconsciously followed Heng Shu's gaze.

In the dimness, the dark double-leaf solid wood door was tightly shut, giving off a sense of oppression.

Wen Yicong's heart tightened inexplicably, and she looked away.

After handing over the key to the bedroom's new owner, Heng Shu prepared to leave.

Just then, Wen Yicong suddenly remembered something and called out to stop him.

Heng Shu turned back, puzzled but gentle. 'Is there anything else, Miss Wen?'

Wen Yicong handed over the thermos she'd been carrying all the way, stepped forward, and whispered something to Heng Shu.

Heng Shu nodded repeatedly after hearing it, then left with the thermos.

The sound of footsteps faded.

Wen Yicong pushed open the door, and a fragrance wafted toward her—a mix of cedar and lily of the valley, fresh and elegant, high-end but not overpowering.

Looking around, she saw the room was well-lit, with mostly dark-toned furniture and decor. The space was large, including a living area, a sleeping area, and even an independent small Study Room area, all laid out reasonably.

Wen Yicong walked a few steps deeper into the room and casually pushed open a door, finding a walk-in closet inside—spacious and empty, capable of holding countless clothes.

The living conditions were surprisingly good.

Wen Yicong curved her lips, satisfied with the bedroom.

After a considerable effort to unpack, she straightened up, twisted her neck, and sat down on the sofa to rest.

It was already dusk. The golden glow of the sunset streamed through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows on the floor.

After sitting for a while, Wen Yicong planned to send a message to her mother to let her know she was safe.

But as soon as her fingers touched her phone, memories flooded back like a tide.

She remembered again that she'd sent that complaint text to Mo Shaoshang himself...

In the blink of an eye, the crushing sense of social death surged over her. She raised both hands to cover her burning face, even curling her toes in her shoes in embarrassment.

But then, her hands slowly lowered.

So far, her employer seemed perfectly normal, not mentioning the matter at all.

Maybe he hadn't even seen it?

Or, even if he had, maybe he thought she was too insignificant to waste time and energy on?

A sliver of wishful thinking quietly crept in...

Suddenly, knock, knock—two sounds at the door.

Wen Yicong snapped back to reality, stood up, straightened her clothes, and walked over to open the door.

The moment she saw the visitor, her eyes flickered.

It was Mo Shaoshang.

He was wearing only a black shirt, no tie, the collar slightly open, revealing hints of taut muscle lines. This relaxed, casual attire lacked the sharpness of the daytime and was very alluring.

His gaze, behind the gold-rimmed glasses, rested calmly on her face.

'Mr. Mo?' Wen Yicong held her breath, suppressing the intense flutter in her chest. 'Is there something you need from me?'

'Dinner is ready.'

Mo Shaoshang said, 'I've come to invite you downstairs to eat, Miss Wen.'

'...'

Wen Yicong's palms were sweaty. She was surprised that he would do this himself, but didn't dare show it. Forcing down her shock, she nodded as naturally as she could. 'Okay.'

She closed the door behind her and followed his steps.

Two figures walked one after the other in the quiet corridor, their footsteps softly swallowed by the carpet.

Wen Yicong's heart was in turmoil, occasionally stealing glances ahead.

From behind, Mo Shaoshang's pace was unhurried, his posture relaxed, with no indication that he intended to say anything to her.

It seemed... he really just came to call her for dinner?

Seeing this, the tight string in Wen Yicong's mind relaxed a little, and the heavy stone hanging in her heart began to slowly settle.

It looked like he really hadn't seen that text where she complained about him being scary.

Thank heavens.

Wen Yicong breathed a small, careful sigh of relief.

With her nerves a bit looser, she finally had the leisure to look around.

The interior decoration of this villa was extremely refined—every brick and tile showed unique craftsmanship.

Wen Yicong's eyes roamed. Just as her attention was caught by a niche displaying a metal sculpture, without any warning at all, Mo Shaoshang, walking ahead, suddenly spoke.

He said calmly, 'Miss Wen.'

Wen Yicong, absorbed in looking at the art, responded casually, 'Hmm?'

'Why do you think I'm so scary?'

'...'

Author's Note:

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

Mo Mo (wagging tail wildly): My wife is wrong—I'm so well-behaved. If you don't believe me, come and pet me.

Nong Nong (seeing a wild beast acting cute): ...

—

Today is the fifth day of the Lunar New Year. Little treasures, remember to welcome the God of Wealth! I wish you all a smooth and prosperous year ahead, with everything going your way and success in all endeavors! Continuing with red envelopes for everyone!