Encroachment.

Mo Shaoshang's voice was low and gentle, like the strings of a cello, brushing across Wen Yicong's heart.

Her heart tightened. She held her breath and stepped inside.

The door of the Study Room closed behind her with a barely audible click.

Wen Yicong walked a few steps further in.

This was the second time Wen Yicong had entered Mo Shaoshang's Study Room. Unlike the afternoon of her interview, the night was now deep, and in the twilight, the study seemed to have taken on a different face.

The main light was off; only a few wall lamps and a vintage desk lamp cast a dim glow, making the space feel larger and more secluded. The light struggled to dispel the darkness in one corner; the brightness near the desk only made the surrounding area drown completely in the shadows.

Looking around, the tall bookshelves stood like giants in the gloom, their shadows swallowing her. The curtains were drawn tight, sealing the space off from the outside world.

Wen Yicong unconsciously lowered her breathing. With each inhale and exhale, she seemed to catch a faint, very faint scent, mingling with the smell of old books—cold and oppressive.

She curled her fingers, instinctively hugging the folder in her arms.

'Sit.'

Just then, Mo Shaoshang's voice sounded beside her—a single, concise word cutting through the silence.

Wen Yicong snapped back to reality.

She looked up and noticed a small seating area in front of the desk: a pair of single sofas stood side by side with a round table between them.

This must be where tonight's lesson would take place.

Wen Yicong guessed as much. She walked over and sat down stiffly, bending slightly.

'What would you like to drink?' Mo Shaoshang's tone remained casual. As he spoke, he walked toward a small wine cabinet and sink, his figure appearing even taller and more slender in the shifting light and shadow.

'I...' Wen Yicong's voice was a little hoarse. She cleared her throat. 'Anything is fine.'

Hearing this, Mo Shaoshang paused slightly and turned his head. The thin chain of his gold-rimmed glasses swayed slightly with the movement. He looked at her flushed, nervous face.

Whether because of the dim lighting or some other reason, the gaze behind the lenses was obscure and dark, yet carried a hint of faint, elusive interest.

'Milk, is that okay?' Mo Shaoshang asked blandly.

'Mm, yes... that's fine. Thank you.' Wen Yicong nodded in reply.

Silence fell again.

Wen Yicong waited a couple of seconds, then quietly lifted her eyes. In her line of sight, the man had already taken out a glass and poured the pre-prepared milk into it.

His fingers were well-defined, long and strong, set against the clean, transparent glass, giving off a cold, restrained beauty.

After pouring the milk, Mo Shaoshang walked over with the glass and handed it to her.

Wen Yicong quickly reached out to take it.

In those few seconds, her fingertips accidentally brushed against his fingers.

Cold. Hard. Beneath the elegant, refined exterior lurked a wild strength.

The sudden touch was like an electric current, racing at lightning speed from Wen Yicong's fingers to her heart.

Her fingers trembled slightly. With eyes downcast, she tried to take the milk as naturally as possible.

But her hand unexpectedly shook, and a few drops of warm milk splashed out of the glass onto Mo Shaoshang's hand.

'...S-sorry.' Wen Yicong's face grew warm. She grabbed a tissue from the side and handed it to him frantically.

'It's fine.'

Compared to her obvious fluster, Mo Shaoshang was calm without a ripple. He took the tissue, casually wiped the stain off his hand, then turned and walked to the other sofa, sat down, and elegantly crossed his long legs. 'Let's begin.'

Indeed, they had to start.

If she kept sitting around doing nothing, who knew what other embarrassment she might cause...

Wen Yicong thought to herself, took a deep breath, opened the folder, and took out the prepared materials.

Two copies.

One for herself, one for Mo Shaoshang.

The lesson officially began.

The professional rehabilitation therapist tried to focus her attention, explaining the core techniques and precautions of home intervention to the sole 'student' in the room.

At first, Wen Yicong's voice carried a barely perceptible tremor, but as the content deepened, her professional composure gradually took over. Her emotions stabilized, and her tone became steady and clear.

Throughout the process, Mo Shaoshang hardly spoke.

He just sat quietly on the leather sofa, holding the course materials in one hand while the other hand tapped lightly on the table, his gaze fixed straight on the rehabilitation therapist before him, listening carefully and attentively.

Or rather, almost intently studying her.

His eyes swept over the young girl's hairline, brows and eyes, lips, neck.

It was easy to see she was really nervous. Her bright, lively eyes either looked at her own materials or at his, never daring to meet his gaze.

When she needed to think, she would unconsciously raise her hand and rub her earlobe with her fingertip.

With this unique, cute little gesture, Mo Shaoshang's attention was drawn, and he couldn't help but look at her ear.

In the dim light, the girl's small ear took on a pinkish-white hue. Because of her nervousness and occasional rubbing, the earlobe skin showed a layer of tempting blush, like a ripe fruit waiting to be picked.

Occasionally, when she got thirsty from talking, she would pick up the glass and take a sip of milk. The white milk would cling to her lips, and she would naturally lick it off.

Her pink tongue flashed in the dim light, glistening with a moist sheen, like a fleeting glimpse of a butterfly's wing—silent, yet carrying an innocent, unconscious allure...

Mo Shaoshang's gaze lingered on Wen Yicong's lips for a moment, then shifted away without a trace. He picked up the glass beside him and took a light sip.

The purified water had long gone cold.

His Adam's apple moved as he swallowed.

The cold liquid entered his esophagus, slightly easing an unnamed restlessness.

Time slipped away in a subtly tense atmosphere.

About half an hour later, Wen Yicong finally finished the first part of the content and breathed a slight sigh of relief.

'All right, Mr. Mo, that concludes the content on mindset adjustment and positive attention.' Wen Yicong looked up at Mo Shaoshang. 'Do you have any questions you'd like to ask me?'

Mo Shaoshang slowly shook his head. 'No.'

After a half-second pause, he added, 'Teacher Wen's explanation was very clear.'

His affirmation put Wen Yicong somewhat at ease. She smiled. 'Thank you for your recognition.' Then, she tentatively suggested, 'How about we take a five-minute break?'

'Sure.' Mo Shaoshang agreed.

Wen Yicong immediately put the materials on the table, stood up, and started walking around as if to loosen her stiff shoulders and limbs, but really just to find an excuse to temporarily leave the seating area and get a little farther from Mo Shaoshang.

His aura was too strong.

Sharp and aggressive; being too close to him made her uncomfortable.

After a few steps, Wen Yicong tilted her head slightly, and her gaze involuntarily drifted to the bookshelf wall beside her.

The shelves were densely packed with books in various languages, covering a wide range of subjects, but philosophy, social sciences, and history dominated. Many spines looked quite old, yet they were extremely well-preserved.

Curious, Wen Yicong couldn't help but whisper, 'Mr. Mo, have you... read all these books?'

This astonishing collection could easily be called a small library.

Hearing this, Mo Shaoshang followed her gaze for a glance and replied, 'Mm.'

'Wow.' Wen Yicong blurted out, her tone full of genuine admiration. 'Then you have a very rich reading volume.'

'I don't have many hobbies,' Mo Shaoshang said flatly. 'Reading counts as one.'

'I really admire people who love reading.' Wen Yicong turned around, a slightly embarrassed smile on her lips. 'Ever since I was little, I'd get sleepy as soon as I read a book, especially these more profound ones.'

Mo Shaoshang looked at her, taking in her relaxed, slightly animated expression. 'Just different interests.'

The brief small talk eased the atmosphere in the Study Room a little.

But just then, a sound came from somewhere, breaking the rare relaxed mood.

Hiss—rustle—

At first, Wen Yicong thought she was hearing things and didn't pay attention, until the sound entered her ears a second time.

Hiss—rustle—

It sounded like some living creature rubbing against a smooth surface.

Wen Yicong frowned suspiciously, listened intently for a few seconds, then turned to Mo Shaoshang and said in a low voice, 'Mr. Mo, did you hear a sound?'

Mo Shaoshang: 'What sound?'

'It's a... rustling sound.' Wen Yicong tried to describe it as accurately as possible. 'It sounds like something crawling? It should be coming from that direction.'

As she spoke, she pointed roughly in the direction of the sound source.

It was a completely backlit, dark corner of the Study Room.

After hearing Wen Yicong's words, Mo Shaoshang was silent for a moment, as if thinking. Then he spoke calmly, with a barely perceptible note of reassurance: 'Don't be afraid. It's my pet.'

Pet?

Wen Yicong's eyes widened in surprise, and she instinctively looked around. 'You keep a pet too?'

As she spoke, the image of Taozi's chubby, round little face involuntarily came to mind.

Wen Yicong subconsciously assumed that Mo Shaoshang's pet was some kind of carefully groomed, expensive cat or dog, and she was still looking around curiously and expectantly. Until the elegant, refined man moved slightly and casually turned on a wall lamp that had been off in the corner.

In an instant, light spilled out, illuminating a dark corner of the Study Room.

A specially made, huge constant-temperature glass terrarium suddenly appeared before Wen Yicong's eyes.

She froze in place.

It wasn't any fluffy, cute creature she had imagined...

It was a snake, pale and eerie all over.

Its scales were fine, emitting the matte sheen unique to cold-blooded animals, like a lifeless, meticulously carved jade sculpture, yet carrying a chilling aura of a living thing. Seemingly disturbed by the sudden light, it slowly moved its body, revealing its jet-black, vertical pupils—cold, indifferent, silently reflecting Wen Yicong's startled face.

'...' In just a few seconds, Wen Yicong snapped back to reality, gasped in shock, and took two steps back.

But her foot caught on something, and she lost her balance, falling backward uncontrollably—

Wen Yicong let out a low cry.

But the expected pain never came.

In the blink of an eye, her arm was grabbed by five fingers. A long, powerful hand appeared out of nowhere, stopping her fall.

The distance between them suddenly shortened. A cool, crisp fragrance rushed toward her, like cedar or the deep sea, overwhelming all of Wen Yicong's senses.

'Be careful,' Mo Shaoshang said.

'...Th-thank you.'

As if burned, Wen Yicong brushed off his hand, hastily extricating herself from his grip, and stepped back a few paces. She felt a mix of fright and embarrassment, her heart pounding like thunder.

Mo Shaoshang withdrew his arm, his fingers that had touched that delicate skin subtly rubbing together.

The girl's flushed, radiant face was close at hand. He studied her with an expressionless face, then after a moment suddenly said, 'Compared to the snake, Teacher Wen seems more afraid of me.'

Author's note:

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

Mo Mo: Baby, is my pet cute?

Nong Nong: ...

——

It's the seventh day of the Lunar New Year. Where did everyone go for the Spring Festival? Continuing with red envelopes for everyone.