Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Under the shifting lights, Mo Shaoshang's face was inches away, so handsome he seemed unreal. Wen Yinong felt her cheeks grow even hotter, her mind growing hazier, as if it were stuffed with wet cotton.

Alcohol had numbed her brain, making the part of her brain that processes language feel unusually sluggish.

That low voice reached her ears clearly; she could understand each word, but their combined meaning was blurry and hard to grasp.

Her eyes were misty, teary and dazed, as she simply stared at him blankly, unable to utter a single word.

Mo Shaoshang stared intently at the girl before him, his eyes deep and unreadable.

After studying her for a few seconds, his gaze fell on the empty glass in her hand. Together with her unusual reaction, he concluded she was drunk.

The special fruit cocktails served at the banquet were sweet and smooth, deceptively light in alcohol, but their actual alcohol content was not low. This young teacher clearly knew nothing about alcohol; she must have mistaken the special cocktails for ordinary juice, and drunk quite a bit without realizing it.

Mo Shaoshang found this amusing, and the look in his eyes as they rested on Wen Yinong's face unconsciously softened.

"Did you hurt yourself?" he asked her in a low voice, his tone gentle and slow, like coaxing a child who refused to wear shoes.

Wen Yinong blinked, her thoughts still sluggish. But this sentence was much simpler and more direct; she understood it.

She shook her head slowly, looking adorably dazed.

Mo Shaoshang said softly again, "I'm going to let go now. Can you stand steady, okay?"

In her tipsy state, Wen Yinong was earnestly obedient, nodding at him again. "Okay."

He slowly released his fingers from her chin, while his other hand hovered protectively near her side, his arm deliberately keeping a small distance from her skin—gentlemanly and proper.

However, Wen Yinong's head was spinning. It felt like she was walking on cotton, and her steps were unsteady.

Once free from Mo Shaoshang's support, she instinctively reached out and grabbed the edge of the nearby table, barely steadying herself.

After a moment, Wen Yinong took a deep breath. Her thoughts cleared slightly, and she belatedly remembered to thank him.

Embarrassed and flustered, the flush on her cheeks deepened, as if about to draw blood, as she murmured, "Just now... thank you. If it weren't for you, I probably would have fallen and made a fool of myself..."

She looked alluring and delicate in her drunken state. Mo Shaoshang looked down at her without acknowledging her thanks. Instead, he leaned casually against a nearby Roman pillar, his posture lazy and his tone indifferent. "Ms. Wen, what do you think of this banquet?"

The question seemed to come out of nowhere. Wen Yinong was taken aback and answered honestly, "It's... it's quite nice."

The lighting was beautiful, the atmosphere was pleasant, the food was exquisite.

Just then, a waiter passed by with a tray.

Mo Shaoshang casually picked up a glass of champagne, took a light sip, his eyes lowered, fixed on the golden liquid swaying in the glass, his tone slow and meaningful. "Originally, I was quite worried that Ms. Wen might feel constrained and bored in this kind of setting. But seeing how comfortably you were chatting with that gentleman earlier, it seems I was worrying for nothing."

Wen Yinong blinked, taking a couple of seconds to realize who he meant, then said with sudden understanding, "You mean... you mean Mr. Sebastian?"

Mo Shaoshang paused in his motion of swirling the champagne, his eyes darkening slightly, but he said nothing.

"Mr. Sebastian is quite talkative. He said he's really interested in Chinese culture and is even applying for a green card." Wen Yinong answered honestly, without any concealment, and even added an innocent tidbit. "We're both interested in psychology and Hong Kong cinema, so we chatted a bit more."

She paused here, then tilted her head, looking up at Mo Shaoshang with a face made stunningly beautiful by the alcohol.

Curiously, she asked, "Mr. Mo, are you unhappy?"

Mo Shaoshang lifted his eyelids slightly, his cool blue-black eyes staring straight at her as he countered, "Why would I be unhappy?"

"...I don't know." The young girl shook her head honestly, her eyes still misty, her expression drowsy yet innocent. "I don't know exactly why you're unhappy, but you are."

Her tone was firm. Mo Shaoshang let a hint of amusement creep into his voice upon hearing this. "And what leads you to that conclusion?"

"Intuition." She answered seriously, her logic, under the influence of alcohol, becoming unusually straightforward. "You already seem a bit intimidating and hard to get along with. Every time you're in a bad mood, that feeling is even stronger. Like... right now."

As her words fell, Mo Shaoshang raised an eyebrow ever so slightly.

On the surface, this little drunk cat—aside from having cheeks redder than usual and more tear-filled eyes—spoke in a sweet, soft voice, with clear articulation and seemingly coherent logic.

But Mo Shaoshang could still tell she was truly drunk.

A sober Wen Yinong would never look at him with such fearless, almost judgmental eyes, nor speak to him in this tone.

Her boldness was endearing.

"I consider myself fairly gentle with others, and my emotions are usually stable." Mo Shaoshang looked at her calmly. "Why does Ms. Wen insist that I'm hard to get along with?"

Hearing this question, the little drunk cat lifted her flushed face with a serious expression, even raising a slender, fair index finger and wagging it in front of him as she continued solemnly, "This has nothing to do with how you treat people. It's a combination of your personality, your looks, and your aura."

Mo Shaoshang took a leisurely sip of champagne and responded softly, "I'm all ears."

"Your personality is too quiet; you don't talk much. That kind of personality naturally creates a sense of distance." Wen Yinong said this while carefully examining Mo Shaoshang's face, as if conducting an academic analysis.

Alcohol had stripped away her usual restraint, and she even took a step closer to him, her tone growing more serious. "Also, your facial bone structure is too sharp. Your eyes, nose, lips, jawline—though well-defined, deep, and very handsome—project a strong sense of aggression. Add in your aura... In our special education program, we all studied psychology. Your situation is like having an invisible chasm between you and the outside world. Few people are willing to risk crossing that chasm to approach you."

The distance between them suddenly shortened with her step.

The young girl's gorgeous, innocent face, flushed with drunkenness and pure unawareness, was clearly reflected in Mo Shaoshang's eyes.

His gaze began to wander uncontrollably downward, settling on her lips.

Those lips, painted with bright red lipstick, were small and full, gently parting and closing with her words.

Red lips, white teeth—the stark color contrast created a pure yet deadly allure.

It made one fantasize about what it would feel like

to kiss them.

A strange heat rushed through his blood. Mo Shaoshang looked at the defenseless girl before him, his Adam's apple rolling almost imperceptibly.

Yet when he spoke again, his tone remained calm and composed: "That's just a stereotype."

"Is it?" Wen Yinong fluttered her thick lashes, her drunken confusion evident, and asked him in return, "Then in Mr. Mo's eyes, what kind of person are you?"

Mo Shaoshang looked at her, his blue-black eyes fathomless, his thin lips parting to utter four words: "Gentle and lively."

"..."

Wen Yinong was genuinely shocked by these two words, as if the alcohol had sobered her up a bit.

She stood frozen, eyes wide, as if she had heard something unbelievable. Before she could recover from this absurd self-assessment, the piano piece in the air suddenly shifted into a waltz—elegant, soothing, and distinctly rhythmic.

The next moment, the man before her casually set down his champagne glass and extended his right hand to her,

palm up, gentlemanly and graceful, impeccably graceful.

Wen Yinong was startled, realizing what Mo Shaoshang intended, and immediately became flustered, stammering a refusal: "Sorry, Mr. Mo, I... I'm not really good at dancing..."

"It's okay." Mo Shaoshang curled his lips, his arm wrapping around her slender waist under the cheongsam, and with a gentle pull, he pulled her into his arms without a word. "I can teach you."

*

Under Mo Shaoshang's guidance, Wen Yinong reluctantly let herself be led into the center of the dance floor.

The surrounding lights seemed to focus on them; she was dizzy and could only follow his lead.

His hand was broad, long, and strong, steadily supporting her back, while his other hand laced through hers, guiding her.

At first, Wen Yinong's steps were a bit messy and clumsy, occasionally stepping on his toes. She blushed even more in embarrassment, wanting to retreat, but she was held firmly in his arms.

"Relax, don't be nervous." He whispered in her ear. "Look at me."

"..." Wen Yinong's heart tightened. As she looked up, her eyes fell into a pair of eyes like the deep sea.

Mo Shaoshang's guidance was patient and professional, and Wen Yinong herself was a fast learner. After the alcohol relaxed her limbs, she quickly mastered the basic rhythm and steps of the waltz.

Around them, there was the scent of perfume and shadows moving.

She felt dizzy, as if she could not perceive anything else; all she could see were those deep blue-black eyes. Her body naturally followed him, spinning and stepping back and forth.

The hem of her moon-white cheongsam traced a slight arc, and the jade necklace shimmered around her neck.

The stunning couple at the center of the dance floor became the indisputable focus.

The man was tall and aloof, the girl was lively and charming. The two danced in harmony to the melodious tune, as if they were naturally meant to fit together.

As the piece ended, the party was winding down.

Wen Yinong followed Mo Shaoshang out of the Dome Club.

Settling into the back seat of the Rolls-Royce, fatigue and a stronger wave of drunkenness hit her at the same time, leaving Wen Yinong suddenly drained.

Earlier in the banquet hall, between talking and dancing, the alcohol had worn off, so it was fine. But now, back in the enclosed and quiet cabin, her head felt as heavy as lead, and her eyelids began to droop.

Wen Yinong had been fighting to stay awake, forcing herself to keep her spirits up, but the warm air conditioning and the smooth speed of the car were like a lullaby. Within a few minutes, her head tilted, and she drifted off to sleep.

Once asleep, the body naturally loses balance.

Wen Yinong slumped over.

Beside her, Mo Shaoshang almost instinctively reached out his hand, placing it between the girl's forehead and the cold, hard car window. His expression was calm. After hesitating for two seconds, he then moved his wrist slightly, cushioning her cheek with his palm. With gentle and careful movements, he placed her head on his lap.

The young Chinese girl's eyes were closed, her long lashes like tiny fans casting shadows on her cheeks.

As if finding his cool palm comfortable, like a pampered kitten, she unconsciously pressed closer, nuzzling and rubbing, automatically adjusting herself into a more comfortable sleeping position in his arms.

After adjusting, she proceeded to use his waist as a pillow. Her two slender arms naturally came around and bear-hugged him.

Tight.

"..." Mo Shaoshang lowered his eyes, carefully studying the vulnerable girl in his arms.

Her eyes were closed, her cheeks flushed with a light pink from the alcohol, giving her a more innocent yet alluring look than usual. Her long lashes were thick, her red lips slightly pouted, and her breathing was even and deep, reminiscent of a small animal that had secretly drunk honey and fallen asleep contentedly.

Charming and naive. While evoking sympathy, it also awoke a primal urge to claim her.

Wanting to hold her, to kiss her.

To possess her, to claim her.

And then devour her piece by piece.

Mo Shaoshang raised his hand, and with the back of his hand, he gently stroked Wen Yinong's delicate and warm cheek. Deep in his blue-black eyes, turbulent undercurrents surged, as if brewing a tsunami capable of swallowing everything.

"Good night." Looking at this serene sleeping face, he mouthed, "Sweet dreams."

The next day, Wen Yinong woke up with a pounding headache.

*

Her eyelids felt as heavy as a thousand pounds. Frowning, she forced her eyes open, feeling her temples throbbing and her throat dry and scratchy.

She sat up, dazedly looking around: it was her bedroom in the Mo manor. She then looked down at her body: she was wearing a clean, fresh cotton pajama set.

Dong—

A huge question mark seemed to appear out of nowhere and landed on Wen Yinong's head.

Strange.

Didn't she go with Mo Shaoshang to the banquet last night? In her memory, it seemed she had even danced with him... And then? What happened? How did she get back to the manor after the banquet? Her body and face were so clean and fresh, and she had changed into pajamas—when did she even take off her makeup and shower?

She had absolutely no recollection.

"..." Wen Yinong was extremely puzzled, rubbing her aching temples, trying to piece together the fragments of her memory.

Just then, "Bang bang," there was a knock at the door.

She hurriedly got out of bed, slipped on her slippers, and went to open the door.

Opening the door, the butler stood in the hallway.

Wen Yinong cleared her dry and hoarse throat, managed a smile, and greeted, "Good morning, Uncle Heng."

"Good morning, Teacher Wen." Uncle Heng smiled slightly and handed her a small white porcelain bowl he was holding. "The kitchen just made it; it's the perfect temperature. Drinking this will make you feel better."

Wen Yinong was puzzled. She took the bowl and looked inside; it contained a reddish-brown liquid, and she couldn't tell what it was.

"What's this...?"

"It's a hangover remedy soup." Uncle Heng answered with a smile. "You drank quite a bit last night. Mr. Mo was afraid you might feel unwell when you woke up this morning, so he specifically instructed us to prepare it for you."

Drank too much?

Wen Yinong's brows furrowed slightly, and a sense of dread settled in her stomach.

Soon, some chaotic and hazy memory fragments, like rocks exposed at low tide, gradually flooded into her mind: Sebastian's warm, beaming smile, Mo Shaoshang's blue-black eyes that held a hint of displeasure, and those colorful, sweet-tasting but potent fruit wines at the banquet...?

No wonder her memory of the latter half of the banquet was so fuzzy—she had been blackout drunk!

So after she got drunk, aside from adding that French guy on WeChat, what else did she do?

The floodgates of her memory opened, and more images rushed to the surface.

It seemed she had also grabbed Mo Shaoshang and gone on a rant, complaining about his personality and appearance.

Saying he was fierce, hard to get along with, quiet as a clam...

Thinking of this, Wen Yinong's mind went blank. She wished she could find a hole to crawl into and die—Oh my god! Had her brain been pickled in alcohol? Why did she go and badmouth her boss right to his face!

Aaaah!

Wen Yinong's inner tears were like the raging waters of West Lake, and she was sick with regret. She wished she could go back in time to last night and knock herself out for spouting that nonsense. Despite this, she maintained a smile that was more like a grimace, quickly thanked Uncle Heng, took the hangover soup, and retreated to her room.

Closing the door, she wanted to cry but couldn't.

Calm down. Calm down.

Now wasn't the time to wallow in regret; she had to figure out how to fix this!

Wen Yinong mulled it over, set down the soup, and quickly grabbed her phone, unlocking it to open WeChat.

Her slender, pale fingertips trembling slightly, she tapped on the pitch-black night sky profile picture.

She entered the chat with "M."

Ever since she had added Mo Shaoshang by chance on her personal account that day, Wen Yinong hadn't dared to send him a single message.

Partly because she felt there was no real business to discuss on a personal account, and partly because deep down, she thought her personal account, with its cutesy nickname and hand-drawn avatar, seemed too childish for her image as a "professional special education teacher."

She didn't want to strengthen that impression with her employer.

But at this critical moment, Wen Yinong no longer cared about appearances.

She opened the text box and typed quickly: "Mr. Mo, I drank too much last night and wasn't in my right mind. Everything I said to you was nonsense, absolutely unintentional. Please don't take it to heart..."

After typing it out, she read it over.

No, the tone was too eager, like she was protesting too much. Delete it.

Wen Yinong took a deep breath, rephrased, and typed another line: "Mr. Mo, it seems I said... some inappropriate things last night. If I offended you, please be generous. You probably won't dwell on it, right?"

Reading it again, she still felt it was off.

She deleted it all in frustration.

After several rounds of this, Wen Yinong's fair face scrunched up like a little steamed bun, and she tugged at her hair in frustration.

She sat cross-legged on the bed, staring at the blank input box, deep in thought. After agonizing for several minutes, she took another deep breath, like a martyr about to be executed, gritted her teeth, and resolved to apologize no matter what.

But just as her fingertips touched the screen, before she could type a single character, her phone suddenly went "ding"---

Completely unexpected.

A new message appeared in the chat.

M: "Good morning, Teacher Wen."

Wen Yinong: "!!!"

Wen Yinong blinked, her heart filled with doubt. She couldn't gauge whether this inscrutable employer's early morning greeting was a prelude to settling scores or reprimanding her, so she decided to play it cool and see what happened.

Bracing herself, she typed.

Cheese Sweet Moon: "Good morning, Mr. Mo ^.^"

Almost instantly, a reply appeared:

M: "Uncle Heng said you just woke up."

Cheese Sweet Moon: "Mm-hmm" "Smile"

M: "Finish your hangover soup and come downstairs for breakfast."

M: "I'm waiting for you."

Wen Yinong: ...I'm so screwed T T

*

Staring at the message on her phone, Wen Yinong's heart was in turmoil—a mix of anxiety and doubt.

What did her employer mean? Was he planning to settle scores later, or was he genuinely just waiting for her to have breakfast?

She couldn't figure it out.

After mulling it over for a while, her mind racing with various possibilities, she still couldn't make heads or tails of it.

With no other choice, Wen Yinong temporarily set aside her chaotic thoughts, took a deep breath, and decided to face whatever came. What will be will be. First, she'd go see him.

She got up and washed up.

The cool water splashed on her face, clearing her still-foggy mind somewhat.

Leaving the bathroom, Wen Yinong picked up the hangover soup Uncle Heng had brought. After a moment's hesitation, she downed it in one gulp.

Fortunately, though the soup tasted a bit strange, it did make her feel much better. Setting down the bowl, she changed into a light, comfortable casual outfit, forced a natural-looking friendly smile in the mirror, took a deep breath, and headed downstairs.

The sunlight was perfect, golden rays pouring in through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside, the Mo Manor was waking up in the morning light. The distant lake was like a mirror, reflecting the azure sky and fluffy white clouds. The meticulously trimmed garden was lush and green, with a few birds chattering in the branches. Everything seemed peaceful and full of life.

Wen Yinong entered the dining room.

The first thing that caught her eye was the sight of Mo Shaoshang guiding Ari to take a spoonful of congee.

The man's head was slightly tilted, and in the morning light, his cold, sharp profile seemed softened, taking on an indescribable...

tenderness.

Wen Yinong froze for a moment, and in the next instant, last night's terrifying memories flooded back uncontrollably: her staring at him, calling him fierce, saying he talked too little, and criticizing his sharp facial features and aggressive look...

Thinking of this, she was instantly so embarrassed she wanted to curl up and die, and her cheeks burned with shame.

Now that they had met, standing there awkwardly was no solution.

Wen Yinong could only steel herself and speak, trying to make her voice sound as natural as possible: "Good morning, Mr. Mo."

Hearing her, Mo Shaoshang raised his eyes slightly, his expression calm and unruffled, as if he hadn't been the one she had drunkenly spilled her true feelings to last night.

"Good morning, Teacher Wen," he said calmly. "Please, have a seat."

Wen Yinong sat down in the seat across from Mo Shaoshang. Nearby, the housekeeper, Aunt Zhang, immediately set out bowls, chopsticks, and breakfast for her.

After thanking Aunt Zhang, Wen Yinong suppressed her inner awkwardness, took a silent deep breath, and shifted her focus to Ari. She smiled, a gentle and vibrant smile spreading across her face, and said to the little one, "Good morning, Ari!"

Saying this, she noticed the spoon tightly clutched in his little hand and let out an exaggerated gasp: "Wow! Ari is eating all by himself today? That's amazing!"

Ari didn't react much, just swinging his spoon absently, tapping it on the table.

Wen Yinong wasn't discouraged at all. She reached out, gently holding his chubby little hand, guiding his hand to scoop up a spoonful of warm congee and bring it to his little pink mouth.

Seeing the child successfully feed himself, Wen Yinong's eyes lit up immediately. She gave a thumbs up, her tone full of encouragement as she said, "Great job! Very well done! Thumbs up!"

Ari's clear blue eyes still looked distant and unfocused.

He did not make eye contact with the young teacher in front of him, but with her steady encouragement and demonstrations, his small hand finally tried to copy her, clumsily sticking up his thumb to complete the simple instruction.

Wen Yinong's heart warmed at the sight. She kept interacting with Ari, pushing aside those awkward memories and diving back into her work.

Then, out of nowhere, a low, calm voice cut through the quiet: "Did you have the hangover soup?"

"……"

Wen Yinong's movements paused, and the bright smile on her face suddenly stiffened slightly.

After a two-second pause, she managed to answer: "I already had some."

"Are you getting a headache?" Mo Shaoshang asked, his tone flat.

"...A little," Wen Yinong admitted, then quickly added, "But I'm fine, nothing major."

Saying this, she paused slightly, lowered her eyes, and after a moment continued in a softer voice: "Thank you for your concern."

Mo Shaoshang looked at her calmly, pondered for two seconds, then spoke again: "As my date at the banquet, I should have looked after you properly. Letting you drink too much was my oversight. Sorry."

When he finished, Wen Yinong froze, looking up in shock.

She never expected that this man would apologize to her for such an absurd and outrageous matter?

After a second, she snapped out of it and quickly replied: "You're too kind. I'm an adult—I should know my own limits. Drinking too much was my fault. How could I put that on you?"

At this point, she seemed hesitant, lightly biting her lip. After much deliberation, she finally summoned the courage to add what she had been wanting to say: "Actually, I owe you a real apology. Last night I got drunk and said a lot of horrible, inappropriate things. I hope you can forgive me, Mr. Mo."

She held her breath, waiting nervously for his reply.

Not far away, Mo Shaoshang remained silent and motionless, his blue-black eyes calmly fixed on her, his emotions unreadable.

For a while, the only sounds were the quiet clink of silverware and Ari's random babbling.

The long silence made her more anxious, like a cat was clawing at her chest. She couldn't help sneaking a peek at him. When their eyes met, she quickly looked down.

After about three seconds, she stared at the table in front of her, gritted her teeth, took a deep breath, and finally whispered, barely audible: "I'm sorry."

She looked like a schoolkid who'd messed up and was waiting for the teacher's judgment.

Mo Shaoshang raised his eyebrows very slightly.

Then he spoke again, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement: "What if I don't forgive you?"

Wen Yinong: "……"

She thought she'd heard wrong and looked up in a daze. "Huh?"

Mo Shaoshang studied her confused, adorable expression, his face still placid. "I said, if I don't forgive you, what are you going to do about it, Teacher Wen?"

"Not forgive me?"

Wen Yinong was totally stunned, her mind a blank.

To be honest, she had never considered this possibility.

Finally, she squeezed out a small, hurt-sounding voice: "If you really won't forgive me, what can I do? It's not like I'm going to get on my knees and beg..."

By the end, her voice was barely there, and her cheeks were flaming red.

Mo Shaoshang took in her pitiful look, a faint smile playing on his lips. "If you really want to make it up to me, it's actually quite easy."

Her eyes lit up, and she asked without thinking, "How?"

Mo Shaoshang didn't speak, still staring straight at her.

His gaze was calm and deep, with a terrifying, analytical intensity—like a snake eyeing its prey. It made Wen Yinong's heart race and her breath catch.

Then the sharpness in his eyes vanished, and he went back to his usual calm. He looked down, took a sip of soup, and said lazily, "Forget it."

Wen Yinong was stunned.

"It was just an accident. Holding it against you would make me petty."

It was a sudden twist—unexpected relief.

Realizing she'd somehow gotten past this hurdle, the tension in her chest eased, and she let out a quiet sigh of relief.

She pulled herself together, focused, and turned her full attention back to helping Ari eat, not daring to say another word.

*

Breakfast ended in an awkward, fragile calm.

Afterward, Wen Yinong began Ari's rehabilitation class for the day.

The morning's cognitive and sensory integration training went relatively smoothly, and soon it was time for the afternoon's language intervention session.

Maybe because he'd just woken up from his nap, Ari was in a noticeably bad mood during language class.

In the speech therapy room, the little boy was visibly agitated. The pronunciation cards and colorful toys Wen Yinong pulled out to grab his attention barely worked.

"Ari, look at me." Wen Yinong knelt on the floor to be at eye level, holding a bright toy trumpet. She demonstrated first, exaggerating the 'A' sound. "Aah—aah—the little trumpet is singing!"

Ari glanced at the trumpet, then turned away and started slapping the floor with his little hands.

Wen Yinong persisted.

She pulled out his favorite toy car and rolled it forward, making lively sounds. "Here comes the car! Beep beep—vroom!"

Ari stayed stuck in his bad mood, letting out high-pitched whines and trying to squirm away from the work area.

Wen Yinong kept her patience, trying different toys and sounds to see what might interest him, narrating as she went. "Ari doesn't like the little car? Then shall we look at this little duck? A yellow duck, quack—quack—"

An encouraging smile on her face, she guided him over and over again, her voice gentle and lively.

With Wen Yinong's persistence, Ari's resistance slowly faded. He still wouldn't look at her, but his hand-slapping slowed.

Seizing the moment, she brought out the trumpet again, held it to her lips, and formed the 'A' shape.

This time, Ari's lips barely moved, and he let out a tiny, breathy sound that was almost an 'A.'

Wen Yinong felt a rush of joy and immediately showered him with praise. "Wow! Ari, you're so awesome!" She squeezed the trumpet as a reward. "Aah—the little trumpet is clapping for you!"

But just when she thought things were going well, Ari suddenly had a meltdown out of nowhere, crying and screaming.

He let out sharp, piercing screams—not the earlier whines, but cries filled with pain and rage. He even raised his little hands and clawed at his cheeks with his nails...

"Ari, no!" Startled, she grabbed his wrists to keep him from hurting himself.

After decisively terminating the session, she gently cradled the crying little boy in her arms and coaxed softly, "It's okay, it's okay. Ari, don't be afraid. Teacher is here. It's fine..."

Ari couldn’t utter a word, struggling fiercely in her arms while crying his heart out, his small face flushed red, tears and snot all over his face.

Wen Yinong felt a pang of distress.

For many children with autism who have limited verbal skills, crying fits are often their only way to express their emotions.

Wen Yinong suppressed her inner anxiety and a hint of helplessness, trying to stay calm.

She used the process of elimination, first trying to hand Ari a sippy cup with warm water—he pushed it away firmly; then she offered his favorite strawberry-flavored cookies—again, he pushed them away; she picked up a musical spinning top he had been playing with recently and spun it in front of him, but the pleasant melody couldn’t soothe him at all.

The child cried even harder, the sound echoing in the well-insulated therapy room, making her heart sink.

What on earth was the reason?

Was he feeling unwell? Or was there some unbearable sensory trigger in the environment?

Wen Yinong grew frantic. Just then, amidst his struggles, Ari suddenly reached out, grabbed a new teaching puppet from the toy box, and hurled it to the floor with all his might.

Wen Yinong instantly understood.

The problem was this new puppet.

It had triggered a sensory aversion in him, disrupting his rigid need for sameness.

Having identified the cause, Wen Yinong immediately moved the toy away and continued holding Ari, gently rocking him and humming a nursery rhyme, soothing him again and again.

Even though she had found the reason, the interruption during the teaching process left her feeling a bit discouraged.

She suddenly realized that the path to reaching Ari’s inner world was far longer than she had imagined.

*

At dinner, Ari’s emotions had calmed down, but he still seemed a bit listless. After carefully helping him finish his meal, Wen Yinong handed him over to the nanny.

Back in her room, she sat down with her lesson plans and notes, attempting to prepare, but the scenes of Ari’s meltdown and the sounds of his crying kept replaying in her mind, along with Mo Shaoshang’s direct, unflinching gaze when he looked at her.

Her thoughts tangled together, leaving Wen Yinong in such turmoil that she couldn’t concentrate at all.

After a moment, she put down her pen, closed her notebook, opened the door, and stepped out to get some air.

Under the night sky, the Mo Manor had shed its daytime clarity, wrapped in a quiet, mysterious veil. The wall sconces cast a dim yellow glow, barely pushing back the darkness, only making the garden's stillness seem deeper.

Tree shadows swayed gently in the breeze.

Like whispers in the autumn night.

The main house was eerily quiet, with only her soft footsteps echoing through the empty corridors.

Wen Yinong walked aimlessly, letting her mind wander. When she finally looked up, she realized she had unknowingly arrived at the infinity pool behind the villa.

The cold moon hung high, casting silver light that made the pool’s surface shimmer like a calm, deep sea.

The surroundings were silent, save for the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Seeing no one around, Wen Yinong felt as if her vague restlessness had found an escape. She took off her flats, walked to the edge of the pool, sat down, and dipped her feet into the water.

The moonlight spilled like liquid silver, turning the turquoise water a deep blue, while the dark shadows of the trees by the pool fell across it.

Her two pale feet splashed in the water listlessly, creating ripples.

The night breeze brushed her slightly flushed cheeks, bringing a hint of coolness.

Gazing at the rippling water, Wen Yinong’s mind calmed a little. As she was lost in thought, suddenly, without any warning, a splash shattered the silence.

Water sprayed everywhere, shimmering like silver fragments under the moonlight.

In the middle of the pool, a figure emerged from the cold water.

“...” Wen Yinong was startled by the sudden development, her heart nearly stopping as she stared.

The figure was bare-chested, with pale, cool skin, broad shoulders and narrow waist. Beads of water dripped continuously along the sharply defined lines of his muscles, radiating primal strength and wild allure.

On the left side of his chest, near the heart area, a black serpent tattoo looked almost alive, glistening in the water.

Dangerous, eerie, and yet particularly mesmerizing.

His black hair was soaked through, pushed back from his forehead by his hand, revealing his full forehead and his cold, sharp-featured face.

Under the distant moonlight, the man’s eyes were also wet, a profound, dark blue-black, carrying a hint of probing and a suffocating depth, enveloping her flustered form.

“...” Wen Yinong’s mind went blank.

Mo Shaoshang?

What was he doing here!

Within seconds, Wen Yinong’s face flushed red, flustered and panicked. She instinctively wanted to pull her feet out of the water.

But in her haste, she slipped on the wet edge, lost her balance, and fell into the pool.

“Splash!”

An even bigger splash.

It all happened so suddenly.

In the blink of an eye, Wen Yinong’s dress was soaked through, clinging to her curvaceous figure, revealing every curve.

Caught off guard, she swallowed a mouthful of pool water and coughed.

The icy water and the sudden sense of drowning terrified her. Purely on reflex, she flailed her arms and legs.

But just as she thought she might drown, at the peak of her panic, she felt an arm lock around her waist.

A powerful arm wrapped around her waist and hips, effortlessly hoisting her up.

And pulled her back to the surface.

“Cough! Cough, cough, cough...”

As soon as she got air again, Wen Yinong coughed violently, her lungs burning.

A wave of fear from her near-drowning washed over her. Almost without thinking, she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his cool, clean neck.

Shaken from the shock and the cold, her entire body trembled slightly.

After a long moment, when her heartbeat finally steadied, Wen Yinong managed to compose herself and slowly looked up.

She found herself staring into eyes as dark and deep as the sea, caught off guard again.

Water streamed down Mo Shaoshang's cold, chiseled face, accentuating his sharp features.

He said nothing, only lowered his gaze, staring down at her, so close.

Through the soaked clothes, Wen Yinong could clearly feel his scorching body heat, as well as the feel of his muscles—firm, tough, explosive...

This realization made Wen Yinong's face even redder, and she grew more flustered.

The traditional education she had received since childhood made her deeply aware of the "boundaries between men and women." But at this moment, the fear of drowning overwhelmed everything, and her survival instinct forced her to cling to him tighter.

Thus, their bodies clung tightly together in the water, with barely a gap between them. Warm, moist breaths mingled in the cold air.

Mo Shaoshang lowered his eyes, gazing at the girl in his arms. Her face was pink and her cheeks flushed, whether from choking or shyness, her hair and eyes were wet, misted with moisture, exuding a doe-like fragility and panic.

How blessed was the moonlight, kissing her neck where wet hair clung and her heaving chest; two soft mounds, as if molded from water, faintly visible—full and rounded, with a deep valley between them.

Water rippled and swirled between their pressed bodies.

This scene was incredibly seductive.

A strong, unfamiliar impulse clamored in his blood.

As if bewitched, he lowered his head and slowly leaned toward her.

Warm breath grazed Wen Yinong's cool, soft lips, carrying the slight saltiness of the pool water and his distinctive cold aura, like a magic power eroding her will and tempting her senses.

The distance between their lips was just a few inches.

Then he stopped abruptly.

"Miss Wen Yinong."

A voice came from above, low and husky, with a magnetism and restraint steeped in desire.

"..." Wen Yinong's eyelashes fluttered, her eyes moist and dazed, flustered beyond control. Mo Shaoshang gazed at her, his long, powerful fingers gently closing to cup her pointed chin, and said softly, "Making a man lose control seems to be your talent."