"Have a drink first. I'll dry your clothes for you."
Mo Yachen smiled warmly, the glass of milk in his hand releasing a soft, sweet aroma, like a promise of peace.
"I'd rather not… I can dry my own clothes."
Ji Yu felt a bit uncomfortable with his sudden enthusiasm, though that wasn't the only reason.
Her damp hair clung to her shoulders, droplets sliding down her skin in winding trails before disappearing into the soft valley of her chest. What she felt wasn't coldness—but warmth.
Holding her clothes tightly, Ji Yu hesitated as Mo Yachen took a step closer. Finally, she stammered, "It's… inconvenient if you do it."
"Inconvenient? You don't even know where the dryer is."
He placed the glass of milk in front of her, then bent down. For a moment, his gaze caught the blue reflection in her eyes—delicate like gardenia petals.
"Uh…"
Awkward, he quickly straightened and handed her a key ring. "The red key opens the white room. The dryer's inside."
Her face turned pink. Hugging her clothes even tighter, she snatched the keys and dashed away.
Jogging past room after room, Ji Yu finally understood what he meant back on the train: Very safe. After all, who installs heavy security doors for every bedroom in their own home?
After loading her clothes into the dryer, boredom got the better of her. She started wandering through the unlocked rooms, marveling at the extravagant décor and strange art pieces.
Behind a carved wooden screen stood antique cabinets etched with dragons and phoenixes. Overhead, a traditional lantern glowed softly. And in one corner—a vanity table. Oddly, it was the only spot in the villa covered in dust.
Curious, Ji Yu opened the drawers. Inside were luxury brands she had only ever seen online. Four layers of drawers, each filled, none repeating.
Whose are these?
The question lodged itself in her chest.
While Mo Yachen soaked in the bath, Ji Yu continued her little treasure hunt. The deeper she went down the study corridor, the stranger the artwork became. First dark, abstract oil paintings. Then lighter sketches. But all the faces were deliberately ruined—scratched out, defaced.
A woman…
At the very end of the corridor stood four guitar stands. Every guitar looked so expensive that Ji Yu couldn't help but gasp.
Satisfied with looking, she went back to the kitchen and cooked dinner for the two of them.
When Mo Yachen finally emerged shirtless from his bath, Ji Yu opened her mouth to ask about what she'd seen—but swallowed the words. It wasn't her place. And judging by the women's belongings in the villa, it was probably a painful memory anyway.
"Hungry? I noticed you barely ate at the party."
"Oh? Even surrounded by guys, you still noticed I wasn't eating? Quite thoughtful of you."
"Hehe… if you don't mind, try my cooking?"
Mo Yachen smiled faintly and headed off to fetch her a set of pajamas. The house was huge, but no women's clothes—he hadn't thought about the woman in those paintings at all.
When he came back, Ji Yu had already set out two bowls of noodles. She tucked her hair behind her ear, sitting quietly at the table, soft and calm in the glow of the lights. For a moment, she overlapped with that blurred figure from his memory…
But this girl was clearer, gentler, more beautiful.
"Come eat. I made pork trotter noodles."
The name sounded plain, almost rustic, but Mo Yachen's stomach grumbled anyway. Beautiful girl, hot meal—how could he resist?
"Well then… I won't be polite." He put down the pajamas, sat down, and accepted the food.
Dinner lightened the mood. Later, Ji Yu changed into the pajamas, humming softly as she moved around. The song was serene, but to him it felt incomplete—like only the calmest moment inside a storm. Still, it was beautiful.
"…I can't help but wonder." Her voice was soft, almost relieved.
"Mo Yachen, the corridor behind your study… and those clothes and jewelry…"
"Do they belong to your ex-girlfriend?"
She turned her bright eyes toward him, but the smile froze on her lips.
There he was, in black satin sleepwear, standing by the sink. His eyes—cold, sharp, unreadable—locked onto her without a word.
Ji Yu felt it instantly. Something was wrong.
He set down the dishes and walked toward her, step by step, his face carved in stone.
"Why… did you go there?"
His voice was flat, detached. Ji Yu's heart thudded violently. She straightened up, lowering her head like a scolded child, trying to look as harmless as possible.
"I-I'm sorry! I was just bored and wandered around… All the other doors were locked, s-so I just peeked in the open one…"
But the air only grew heavier. She coughed nervously, her hands twisting her clothes, but his slippers stayed right in front of her.
This entire massive villa contained only the two of them.
And suddenly, she realized—whatever happened here, the outside world would never know.
Her body tensed. A chill ran through her skin, warning her of danger.
Who exactly was Mo Yachen? The polite, refined scholar everyone admired—or this cold, intimidating stranger?
At least, after a long, suffocating silence, he finally turned away.
"Next time," he said, voice low and heavy, "don't mention her again."