Mo Chen didn't say a word at first.
The moment Shen Qingxue's voice dropped that little atomic bomb, the air in the car thickened like overcooked porridge. It was almost comforting—if comfort came laced with suspicion and emotional constipation.
"She's not who you think she is," she had said, calm as a snake with a secret.
Mo Chen stared at her. Long. Hard. The way a man stares at an unarmed girl who just pulled a sword out of her handbag.
"…You mean Ye Wan?" he asked finally.
"No, I meant your grandma," Qingxue deadpanned, leaning her aching head against the window. "Yes, Ye Wan. Who else? The driver?"
Baozi squeaked in her mind, scandalized. "Host! Are you actually going off-script? This is an emotional landslide! If Male lead finds out he is in novel then this arc will collapse. Fix it ASAP!"
"Fine!" Qingxue replied mentally, "I'll do something."
Mo Chen's jaw clenched. "Explain." He said being impatient as he wanted to know what's happening and why everyone was acting weird.
But Qingxue didn't replied. She just closed her eyes and muttered, "I'm tired."
Which, to be fair, wasn't a lie. The low-grade fever had been simmering under her skin all day, and after collapsing at the party, her body felt like she'd been beaten with a guilt-wrapped brick.
Mo Chen didn't press further. Instead, he helped her walk towards her bed and left her with one last look.
That look said: I don't trust you… but I want to.
That was progress.
***
Back in her room, Qingxue flopped onto her silk bedsheets and buried her face in a pillow.
"Oh god," she groaned. "I've turned into a drama-loving raccoon. Next, I'll be monologuing on balconies under moonlight."
"I thought you were already doing that," Baozi offered helpfully.
"Shut up."
Her head throbbed, and her fingers trembled slightly as she took her meds which were hidden neatly inside a teacup so the maids wouldn't catch on. She didn't need a full-blown medical emergency. Not yet. Not before she made Mo Chen regret every cold word he ever said.
***
Meanwhile, across town, Mo Chen stared at his whiskey glass like it owed him answers.
Ye Wan had texted him.
[Ye Wan]: "Hope Qingxue is okay. She always had… delicate health."
She knew?
Something didn't sit right.
He poured another drink.
Mo Chen didn't believe in intuition. He believed in facts, data, strategy. Yet Qingxue's words echoed louder than any business forecast.
"She's not who you think she is."
Ye Wan, the sweet, sunshine girl from his past- always so gentle, so understanding. But hadn't she lied before?
Why did she lied that she asked him to not divorce when every time they met, she always hinted that he should get divorced.
Why was she setting this narrative? Was it to anger Qin RouRou?
He brushed the thought away. No. That wasn't Ye Wan.
Was it?
***
The next day, Shen Qingxue looked like hell in high heels.
Her fever had worsened overnight, but she refused to be bedridden. Not when she had scheming to do.
Today's plan was subtle sabotage: a sweet coffee drop-off at Mo Chen's company… accidentally scheduled at the same time as Ye Wan's "friendly" lunch visit.
Because nothing said "I'm mentally stable" like showing up uninvited with lattes and emotional damage.
Baozi pinged nervously. "Host, are you sure about this? What if Ye Wan poisons your coffee?"
"She'd need to get past me first," Qingxue muttered, smirking. "Besides, I've got immunity spite-powered."
***
In the company lobby, she walked in like she owned the building.
Actually, her family did own partial shares, but that was beside the point.
The receptionist froze. "M-Mrs. Mo?"
"Please," Qingxue said sweetly, "call me 'the current legal spouse.' I'm here to drop off some love… and caffeine."
By the time she got upstairs, Ye Wan was already there.
Of course.
The woman was perched on Mo Chen's guest couch like a swan made of tragedy and good lighting. Her dress was soft beige-classy, understated, and obviously expensive. She looked up, startled, as Qingxue entered.
"Qingxue?" she blinked. "You look…"
"Like I crawled out of a grave?" Qingxue offered. "Yeah, it's called fashion necromancy. Get with the times."
Mo Chen, seated behind his desk, raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing here?"
Qingxue held up the tray of coffees. "I brought emotional support beverages."
Ye Wan laughed lightly. "How thoughtful. I didn't know you two were on such good terms now."
"Oh, we're not," Qingxue said, smiling with all her teeth. "But I believe in… gesture warfare."
Mo Chen stood up. "Both of you—this isn't the time."
"Oh? Am I disturbing your romantic office retreat?" Qingxue blinked innocently. "Sorry. Must've missed the HR memo."
Ye Wan's expression flickered for a second. A crack in the porcelain.
But it was there.
***
Later, after being politely escorted out, more like Mo Chen forcibly ushered her to the elevator, Qingxue leaned against the mirror and sighed.
"She cracked."
"Are we sure it wasn't your fever making you hallucinate?" Baozi asked nervously. "You're burning up."
"I'm fine," she lied, wiping a bead of sweat from her temple.
She wasn't.
Her hands shook as she pressed the elevator buttons, and her knees almost buckled before she reached her car.
Mo Chen hadn't noticed.
Or maybe he had… and was pretending not to.
***
That night, Mo Chen stood alone in his office, looking at the coffee Qingxue had left behind. She'd drawn a little heart on the lid and written: "To my favorite emotionally unavailable CEO"
He smirked.
Then frowned.
Ye Wan had acted strange after Qingxue's arrival—more defensive, more pressed than usual. She had asked a lot of questions about Qingxue's health. Too many.
Mo Chen picked up his phone.
[Mo Chen]: "Can you send me Qingxue's hospital records? Discreetly."
Because if there was one thing he hated more than being manipulated…
It was being manipulated twice.
***
Back in her room, Qingxue sat by the window, wrapped in a shawl. The city lights blurred as her fever climbed.
"Baozi," she said quietly. "If I die, make sure they name a building after me."
"I'll make it a shopping mall, Host."
She laughed.
But then she coughed.
Hard.
Blood splattered onto her sleeve.
"…Shit," she whispered.
And just as she turned to hide it, the door opened.
Mo Chen stood there.
Watching.
And his eyes—those always-cold eyes—finally looked alarmed.
***
Shen Qingxue had exactly three thoughts when the butter knife hit the plate:
"I'm dead. Not because of the disease, but because this man is Sherlock Mo now."
"Where is Baozi and why isn't he throwing a smoke bomb to help me escape?"
"Do I fake cry? Is this the moment I faint again for dramatic effect?"
Mo Chen's voice cut through the ringing in her ears. "Qin RouRou. The oncology wing?"
She straightened her spine, ignoring the cold sweat slipping down her back. "Spying on me now? Are we doing that, President Mo? Should I expect secret cameras in my bathroom next?"
He didn't flinch. "I asked your assistant because you've been acting strange for weeks. You faint. You tremble. You go ghost-white every time you climb a flight of stairs."
"I always hated cardio," she said, smiling thinly.
"Don't joke," he said. His voice wasn't angry—it was worse. It was low. Controlled. Terrifyingly calm. "Just tell me what's going on."
Baozi whispered in her head:
[Host, do we run? We can run. I'll distract him. You fall out the window. Two floors isn't that bad]
"Shut up, Baozi," she muttered aloud.
Mo Chen froze. "Shut up… who?"
Crap.
Shen Qingxue coughed quickly. "Shut up, stomach. I said shut up, stomach. It's growling, see? Starving. Let's eat."
"RouRou"
Ugh. First name. Tone like a knife. She'd annoyed him into caring. She was so good at her job.
[Affection point:- +5]
She sighed and sat down again, slow and exhausted. "It's not serious," she lied. "Just some… treatment. It's managed."
Mo Chen didn't sit. He stared down at her like a man trying to solve a puzzle he didn't want to finish.
"You're dying."
Shen Qingxue flinched. That wasn't a question.
"You're dying," he repeated, voice barely above a whisper. "Aren't you?"
"I'm not planning to drop dead over your scrambled eggs," she said flatly, gesturing to his half-eaten plate.
"I'm serious."
"So am I," she shot back. "Do you think I'd want to spend the last months of my life with the man who called me a parasite two weeks ago?"
Silence.
Baozi muttered, [Yikes. That hit harder than your white blood cell count.]
"Is it cancer?" he asked suddenly.
She didn't answer.
He sat down. Slowly. Like the weight in his chest just doubled.
"I thought you were acting. All that smiling, the weird positivity, the toast to peace and love and petting turtles—" He exhaled. "God, I thought you were just being annoying."
She smirked. "I was. But with purpose."
"How long?"
She looked down. "They said… six months. Maybe a year if I behave."
Mo Chen pressed a hand to his face. And for the first time in forever, Shen Qingxue watched something crack in him. That cold expression—that sharp, measured calm—slipped for just a second.
"You're insane," he said.
She grinned. "You knew that when you married me."
"I didn't marry you. You forced—"
He stopped.
Right. The original forced him. This one…
This one just quietly set fire to everything she touched and dared him to look away.
He stared at her again. Really looked.
She was thinner. Paler. But her eyes sparkled—mischievous and alive. The most vibrant dying person he'd ever met.
And suddenly, the thought of losing her hurt in a way it absolutely shouldn't.
She leaned forward, chin in hand. "So, what now, husband? Want to send me back to the hospital and forget I ever existed?"
His jaw clenched. "You're going back for a checkup. Today."
"Bossy."
"I don't care."
She raised an eyebrow. "Do you care that much?"
"I don't know what I care about anymore," he snapped.
She blinked.
Well, that was new.
Mo Chen stood abruptly. "Get changed. I'll drive."
She blinked again. "Wait, you're taking me? Personally? To the hospital?"
"Don't push it," he muttered, already walking away.
[Host,] Baozi whispered reverently, [He's falling for you. Like a poorly built cabinet. This is it. The arc is heating up.]
Shen Qingxue didn't move for a long time.
Then finally, she whispered, "That wasn't how this scene was supposed to go."
She was supposed to hide it until the end. Die beautifully. Leave behind tear-stained journals and a regretful man sobbing into her wedding dress.
But now?
Now he knew.
And he was… staying?
She didn't know what to do with that.
***
Meanwhile, in Mo Chen's car…He gripped the wheel harder than necessary.
She had cancer.
And she'd planned to suffer in silence.
Why?
Why didn't she tell him?
Why had she spent weeks smiling and cracking jokes and pretending she was fine?
Unless—
Unless she didn't want him to know. Unless she wanted to leave without leaving anything behind.
And that thought?
That infuriated him.
He wasn't supposed to care. She had tormented him. Controlled him. Manipulated his life like a puppet master in heels.
But this wasn't the same woman.
This one smiled too brightly. Ate junk food at midnight. Made weird jokes. Called his suits "billionaire cosplay."
She cried when no one was looking.
And now she was disappearing.
Just when he'd started to actually see her.
He turned to glance at her in the passenger seat.
She was humming. Looking out the window like they were on a joyride.
She caught him staring. "Eyes on the road, President Mo. Unless you want to die before me."
"Don't joke."
"Okay, fine. Then don't look at me like I'm already dead."
He didn't answer.
Because deep down, he already felt like she was a ghost slipping through his fingers.
And he didn't know how to stop it.
***
Back at home that night, Shen Qingxue sat at her vanity, staring at herself.
Her latest test results were worse. Her white blood cell count was falling faster than her will to keep pretending.
But Mo Chen hadn't said a word. He'd stayed with her all day. Quiet. Watchful.
He didn't even yell when she flirted with the handsome young intern nurse.
Progress.
And then…
A knock.
She turned.
Mo Chen stepped in. "I read your file."
"Of course you did," she said dryly. "Did you hack the hospital?"
"I have money."
"Disgusting."
He stepped closer. "Your condition is
treatable. The doctor said.."
"I know what they said."
He was quiet.
Then, voice softer: "Do you want to live?"
She looked up at him. And for once, didn't say anything clever.
"Because if you do," he added, "I'll help you."
Her heart stopped.
And then…
[Host… I think we just unlocked the secret romance route!]
But before she could respond…
Her phone buzzed.
A photo.
Of Mo Chen.
At a party.
Standing beside… Ye Wan.
And her hand?
Clutching his sleeve.
Again.
Shen Qingxue's smile dropped.
Baozi gasped.
[Host… did he—?!]
She stood.
And her voice was cold. "You said you stayed with me all day."
Mo Chen turned. "What?"
She held up the photo. "You liar."