Wen Ran's final words carried an abrupt, icy sharpness.
Cheng Jia's expression shifted rapidly, her mask shattered by Wen Ran's cutting words, revealing the sharp, bitter woman of the past. "Wen Ran, do you really believe Mo Xiuchen has feelings for you? All he wants is your body. Once he tires of it, you'll mean nothing to him. But I'm different. I can help him deal with Xiao Wenqing. I can help him exact revenge."
"Don't worry, I won't fight you for him. I'll wait—wait until he sees my worth, until he lets go of that little girl who once saved him and truly falls for me. I may not have saved him back then, but I did save him once recently. That makes me his savior, too."
"But you? Wen Ran, you are nothing but a woman who sold her body for profit. Mo Xiuchen isn't a fool. If he had to choose, he would never choose someone like you."
Cheng Jia looked at Wen Ran with utter disdain. In her eyes, Wen Ran was utterly useless. When Wen Ran's family fell from grace, she was merely a destitute heiress. Given her situation back then, Cheng Jia believed that for the right price, any man could have bought Wen Ran.
Someone like her—how could she ever deserve Mo Xiuchen?
But Cheng Jia was different. She had loved Mo Xiuchen silently for so many years. She never truly wanted to harm him by helping Xiao Wenqing. Her real intention had always been to get close to him, to make him fall for her. If he loved her the way she loved him, she would tell him everything she knew.
With her help, defeating Xiao Wenqing—and avenging the past—would be far easier for Mo Xiuchen.
Wen Ran offered a cold, mocking smile. She truly had no desire to continue exchanging words with this delusional woman.
"Then I wish you the best of luck in realizing your dream."
With that cutting remark, she turned on her heel and walked away.
"I will become Mo Xiuchen's woman!"
Cheng Jia hissed after her retreating figure, her twisted expression full of venom, as if she longed to tear Wen Ran to pieces.
Leaving the café, Wen Ran felt a lingering discomfort in her heart. Cheng Jia's final words weren't mere boasts—she would fight with everything she had to reach her goal.
Though Mo Xiuchen had assured her that he would never entangle himself with Cheng Jia, nor harbor any romantic interest in her, the road ahead remained uncertain. Cheng Jia's ability to assist Mo Xiuchen couldn't be ignored, and neither could the uneasy weight pressing on Wen Ran's chest.
Distracted, she walked toward the parking lot, completely forgetting she was still on a call with Mo Xiuchen. It wasn't until she got into the car and heard the battery warning twice that she was jolted back to awareness.
Her hand, halfway to fastening her seatbelt, paused. She dug through her bag and pulled out her phone. The screen was dark, dead. She frowned slightly, put it away, and restarted the car.
At MS Group, Mo Xiuchen stared at his phone, now disconnected, his brows knit tightly. His thin, resolute lips were pressed into a cold, merciless line. Every word of the earlier conversation between Cheng Jia and Wen Ran had entered his ears.
That woman—Cheng Jia—really believed she had value? That he, Mo Xiuchen, would choose her for a little advantage? If she dared to cause Wen Ran pain, he would make sure she suffered.
If she wanted to be of use—very well, he would make use of her.
His eyes darkened with a chilling glint. He pressed a number on his phone. After a few rings, Xiao Liu's respectful voice answered, "Hello, Young Master."
"Buy something and check in on Cheng Jia. See how her head injury is. Ask how long she'll need before returning to work."
His voice held not a trace of warmth, though his words sounded courteous. Xiao Liu paused a beat before replying, "Yes, sir."
Half an hour later, Cheng Jia called.
As her name flashed on the screen, Mo Xiuchen's eyes turned cold. Leaning back in his chair, he answered with a distant, emotionless "Hello."
"Mo Xiuchen, thank you for sending Xiao Liu with fruit. Are you all right after last night?"
Cheng Jia's voice dripped with honeyed charm—the kind that could stir any man's heart.
But Mo Xiuchen remained unmoved. His tone was cold: "The company's been busy. Heal quickly. Come back to work."
"I'm ready to return now."
She rushed to say it. Of course she was—if she had the energy to confront and provoke Wen Ran, then surely she was fit enough to work.
Last night's confession had kept her awake. But hearing that Mo Xiuchen wanted her back at work eased her anxieties.
"You're sure you're well enough to work?"
There was no care in his voice—only distance, colder than before. Though hurt, Cheng Jia knew being accepted back at all was already a miracle.
"Yes, I really am," she assured him quickly. She feared losing her chance to return. Her jealousy had made her reckless at the café. Thinking back, she was beginning to regret it. She knew how much Mo Xiuchen cared about Wen Ran.
If Wen Ran told him what happened, there would be consequences.
"You mentioned something about the construction site last night?"
The shift in topic caught her off guard. Heart thudding, she gathered her courage. "Mo Xiuchen, do you have time tonight? I can cook for you, and we can talk over dinner."
"Tonight?"
"Yes—tonight."
Clutching her phone tightly, her eyes shimmered with hope. He didn't refuse immediately—already a victory in her mind.
"Besides the construction site, I also know some details about the pharmaceutical incident in H City," she added.
"…All right."
Her heart soared. "I'll cook your favorite dishes," she promised eagerly.
Overjoyed, she ended the call and—rarely for her—spoke kindly to Xiao Liu, telling him to go on ahead. She was going shopping to prepare dinner for Mo Xiuchen.
Xiao Liu was baffled. Her joy was unmistakable. As he drove, his brows furrowed. The young master had never liked Cheng Jia. Why this sudden shift?
Would the young madam be upset if she found out?
He frowned deeper, glancing through the window at Cheng Jia's light steps toward the mall, uncertain whether to call the young madam or not.
Wen Ran returned to the pharmaceutical company just as Li Qian and Qin Mu arrived with several herbal suppliers. The busy afternoon pushed thoughts of Cheng Jia from her mind.
Near closing time, she returned to her office to check data and tidy up. Just as she was preparing to leave for dinner with the suppliers, a knock sounded at the door.
Assuming it was Li Qian or another supervisor, Wen Ran said gently, "Come in," while shutting her laptop.
But no one spoke. She looked up—and her heart skipped a beat.
The man standing at the door wasn't an employee. He nearly blocked all the light. Cloaked in shadow, his chiseled features exuded quiet menace. It was Mo Xiuchen.
The autumn sky had already dimmed, and with the office light off, the room seemed darker still. His presence alone seemed to draw all the light from the room.
Wen Ran blinked, then smiled. "Why are you here?"
Mo Xiuchen stood silently, staring at her. His gaze was so deep it was like falling into an ancient well.
The atmosphere shifted the moment he entered. Wen Ran felt a strange tension in the air. When he didn't approach, her mind raced. She suddenly remembered—her phone had died.
She quickly walked over to him, explaining, "My phone died this afternoon. Then Li Qian and Assistant Qin arrived with the suppliers—I got busy and forgot to call you back."
Though she still felt unsettled by Cheng Jia's words, she didn't want to take it out on Mo Xiuchen. As long as he didn't do anything inappropriate, she would try not to be petty.
Mo Xiuchen's eyes were locked on her. Hearing Cheng Jia's earlier words, then being unable to reach her, had left him restless. Now, the sight of her soothed something inside him—and ignited something else.
Two steps away from her, he suddenly shut the door, pulled her into his arms, cupped her head, and kissed her—deeply and possessively.
The act stunned her. Her eyes widened in shock—this was her office.
But his kiss was not a gentle graze. It was intense and dominating.
At some point, she found herself pinned against the wall, her lips forcefully pried open, responding almost helplessly to his relentless passion.
She had never been able to resist his allure. Soon, her breath was shallow and uneven.
Sensing he was losing control, Mo Xiuchen finally let her go, gently pressing a palm to her shoulder. His eyes burned into hers. "No matter how busy you are, don't let your phone die again."
When he couldn't reach her earlier, countless thoughts had tormented him. Worst of all was the fear that she was angry—and ignoring him.
Still catching her breath, Wen Ran looked up at him, her eyes soft. "Okay. I'll be more careful."
"I thought you were mad at me."
Her quiet response made him feel guilty. His kiss had been too rough. He brushed his fingers gently over her swollen lips, heat from his breath caressing her flushed cheeks. "Did I hurt you?"
His touch made her heartbeat race again. She grabbed his hand, trying to regain composure. "Go sit over there," she murmured.
Understanding her unease, he smiled faintly and moved to the sofa.
She tried to sit opposite him, but he reached out, pulled her down beside him, placing her hand on his thigh. His eyes searched hers. "Ranran, are you angry with me?"
"No. Cheng Jia's words aren't new—I'm not upset."
She avoided his gaze, staring instead at their intertwined hands.
"There's something I never told you. I didn't plan to—but after hearing Cheng Jia this afternoon, I think you should know."
Wen Ran's heart skipped a beat. She looked at him in silence.
He sighed, voice gentle. "There's one truth in what Cheng Jia said. When your parents died, and the company faced crisis, Xiao Wenqing feared you'd seek out Mo Zixuan and bring trouble. She…"
Wen Ran's face paled.
She remembered Cheng Jia's accusation—Xiao Wenqing wanted to drug her and send a random man to ruin her.
Her hand tightened into a fist. The thought was unbearable.
"Then why did you help me?"
She stared at him, eyes filled with doubt. They hadn't known each other then—why had he stepped in to save her and then offered marriage in exchange for helping her father's company?
Was it true, as others claimed, that he only wanted to hurt Mo Zixuan by taking the woman he loved?
Mo Xiuchen's eyes darkened. He could see the misunderstanding in her gaze.
"I wasn't trying to hurt Mo Zixuan. I have other ways to deal with them. I didn't need to use you."
His voice carried a rare heaviness, like sunlight suddenly swallowed by clouds.
Wen Ran's eyes flickered. For a moment, she didn't know what to say.
"Do you remember when we first met?"
After a pause, he asked quietly. The darkness in his eyes slowly faded, replaced by a deep, unfathomable stillness.
He hoped she remembered. But he feared—she would not.