Wen Ran nodded, a gentle smile blossoming on her sleep-heavy face. In the soft glow of the room, her expression was warm and tender: "What time is it? Have you had dinner yet?"
Hearing her caring words, Mo Xiuchen felt a warmth stir within him. He answered softly, "I had a bit of food outside. Are you tired? If not, would you keep me company and talk with me?"
His tone was calm, even-tempered, yet there was something in his voice that caused her heart to tighten inexplicably. She couldn't quite place why such a feeling stirred inside her as she gazed at his slightly furrowed brows, as though he were troubled, caught in some inner conflict.
She smiled faintly and answered, "Alright," before propping herself up with her hands to sit up.
Mo Xiuchen extended a hand to support her, helping her sit against the headboard. He placed a pillow behind her back but refrained from pulling her into his embrace, as he usually did.
The faint scent of tobacco and body wash lingered in the air, dispersing the remnants of the perfume. Wen Ran pressed her lips together and took the initiative to speak: "Earlier, you mentioned Cheng Jia was injured because of you. I should visit her at the hospital tomorrow."
She didn't ask why Cheng Jia was hurt, but rather suggested visiting her. Mo Xiuchen was taken aback, yet a subtle trace of disappointment flashed across his face.
He assumed that her lack of inquiry meant she didn't care.
A shadow of sadness flickered deep in his eyes as he realized that their marriage lacked the affection he had hoped for. In such a short time, it was impossible for her to care for him as he did for her.
Though he knew this, it still gnawed at him, a sense of suffocating frustration pressing against his chest.
"Is it inconvenient?" Wen Ran noticed the slight frown on his face and the change in his expression, and her heart sank. She guessed that Cheng Jia probably didn't want to see her. She fell silent, forcing a smile. "If it's inconvenient, never mind. Since her parents aren't around, perhaps Zhang Ma could bring her some soup instead..."
Mo Xiuchen's handsome features became even more stern, his lips set in a firm line.
Sensing the shift in his demeanor, Wen Ran fell silent and gazed at him in confusion.
Their eyes met—one deep and brooding, the other clear and questioning.
The atmosphere between them felt heavy, as though the air itself had thickened.
Wen Ran's heart tightened, her mind racing through the words she had just spoken, wondering where she went wrong and why he appeared so angry.
Wasn't he the one who asked her to keep him company? Why was it that no matter what she said, it seemed to be wrong?
Mo Xiuchen's presence became heavier, colder.
His gaze upon her was profound, as deep as an ocean, impenetrable.
After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice low and heavy, as if forcing the words out: "Wen Ran!"
The way he said her name made her grip her lips tighter. The sound of her full name felt unexpectedly jarring to her.
His voice, distant and detached, was unlike the affectionate tone he used when calling her "Ran Ran." That had always been soft, magnetic, and soothing. But now, hearing him use her full name, she felt a sudden unfamiliarity, though the feeling was fleeting and didn't show on her face.
"Do you remember what I told you last time?" Mo Xiuchen's gaze bore into her eyes, refusing to allow her to look away.
Wen Ran blinked in confusion, her mind racing to recall which words he meant.
Mo Xiuchen didn't wait for her to remember. His face grew more serious, his voice growing even darker: "I told you to remember your place. You are the wife of the Mo family's heir, the wife of Mo Xiuchen."
Wen Ran's eyes flickered with a hint of something unreadable, and she opened her mouth to explain, but Mo Xiuchen did not give her a chance. He continued: "No matter what woman lusts after your husband, you cannot back down."
"I didn't mean it that way," Wen Ran replied softly, trying to clarify. She simply didn't want to come off as jealous, and she didn't want to make things difficult for him. Cheng Jia had saved him once when they were young, and today, she had pushed him away to save herself from injury. Though she felt uncomfortable, she told herself to be gracious.
"Then what do you mean?" Mo Xiuchen's gaze deepened, fixing on her.
Under the intensity of his stare, Wen Ran felt overwhelmed, as though suffocating under the weight of his gaze. She thought for a moment and then replied with indifference, "You said last time that you didn't like Cheng Jia. I believe that even if she saved you again today, you wouldn't feel indebted to her."
"Then what did you mean by asking if it was inconvenient?" Mo Xiuchen pressed, his voice sharp with frustration. He hoped that Wen Ran, like other women, would become jealous, would guard him against other women. Ultimately, what he desired most was for her to fall in love with him, to cling to him, never letting him go.
"I just thought Cheng Jia might not want to see me. She was injured because of you earlier, and I can't be ungrateful. If she doesn't want me to visit, I won't go to the hospital."
"Don't you fear that she might use saving me as leverage to make unreasonable demands?"
Mo Xiuchen's lips curled into a sly, almost mocking smile, a glimmer of coolness and derision in his eyes. His mood had been foul for the past couple of days, and today's events had only made it worse.
He could deny that the girl who saved him back then was Cheng Jia, but he couldn't ignore that she had pushed him away today, taking the injury herself. Even he, as ruthless as he was, couldn't remain indifferent—he was still human, not a machine.
Wen Ran ignored the pain his mocking words stirred inside her, offering a faint smile before responding with a question of her own: "If she made unreasonable demands, would you agree to them?"
Mo Xiuchen frowned, taken aback by her question. It was his question, after all—how dare she turn it back on him?
"That depends on what you do," he replied coldly.
At her soft smile, he found no pleasure. In fact, it only served to anger him further.
Wen Ran's smile faltered at his words. Their marriage had always been a transaction. She had agreed to try her best to be a good wife, but the power was in his hands.
Though they were now married, and he treated her well, she would never forget that their union lacked love, and he had never once confessed any feelings for her.
Her eyes lowered, avoiding his piercing gaze, and she replied, "I will do my best."
Mo Xiuchen's expression shifted several times. Accustomed to being in control, he found her answer unsatisfactory. The frustration that had built up in his chest flared, and with a heavy breath, he no longer wished to continue their conversation. Grabbing her by the back of her head, he leaned down, his hot breath crashing upon her like a storm.