Mo Tingjue didn't want to back down.
But staring at Mo Tingyan's ferocious expression, a chill crawled up his spine.
It felt as though a venomous snake had wrapped itself tightly around his body—cold, suffocating, deadly.
For the first time, fear bloomed uncontrollably in his chest.
He was genuinely afraid that Mo Tingyan might actually kill him.
After all… if Wen Zhi didn't take his side, then by law—
this was a case of illegal trespassing.
The pressure on his chest made it hard to breathe. His vision blurred slightly.
In the end, he turned his head toward Wen Zhi and forced himself to soften.
"Xiao Zhi…"
His voice came out hoarse. "I was impulsive today. I shouldn't have acted like that. I apologize."
Wen Zhi finally let out a breath she'd been holding.
She was genuinely afraid things would spiral out of control—but she still stood her ground.
"I won't accept your apology," she said calmly.
"But you can leave now. And from today on, don't ever come back to disturb my life."
With that, she turned her back on both men.
Mo Tingyan looked down at Mo Tingjue and let out a cold, disdainful snort.
Pathetic.
Then he spoke toward Wen Zhi's back, his tone firm and ruthless.
"If this trash ever shows up again, call me immediately. I'll deal with him."
"If I'm not around, call the police and send him straight to jail."
Mo Tingjue: "..."
Only then did Mo Tingyan lift his foot from Mo Tingjue's chest.
But the relief lasted less than a second.
Mo Tingyan bent down, grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him straight out of the apartment.
Once the door closed behind them, Wen Zhi finally exhaled heavily.
She walked quickly to Mo Tingyan's bedroom door.
There, hanging prominently, was his captain's uniform.
If Mo Tingyan had arrived even ten seconds later…
the outcome would've been completely different.
Downstairs, Mo Tingyan shoved Mo Tingjue to the ground.
Mo Tingjue scrambled up and retreated a step, keeping some distance as he sneered arrogantly.
"Mo Tingyan, you think stepping on me means you've won?"
"Don't dream. Wen Zhi already has a man—right there in that apartment."
"She's living with some wild bastard."
Mo Tingyan chuckled lightly.
"So what?"
Mo Tingjue froze.
So what?
A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind, and the one that terrified him most burst out—
"She's already slept with someone!"
His voice was thick with jealousy.
Though deep down, he knew Wen Zhi was self-respecting and not the kind to fool around.
When he'd searched earlier, there were no obvious traces of another man in her room.
But… he couldn't be sure.
And Mo Tingyan had arrived late.
He didn't know.
Mo Tingjue seized the chance viciously.
"A woman who isn't clean—do you still want her?"
Mo Tingyan laughed mockingly.
"Clean?"
"Then Wen Xue must be spotless, huh? You slept with her just fine."
"You—!"
Before Mo Tingjue could erupt, Mo Tingyan's expression suddenly turned icy.
The usual roguish charm vanished, replaced by a glacial coldness.
"Who Wen Zhi is," he said flatly, "is none of your damn business."
"You don't deserve to comment. You're nothing but trash."
He stepped forward and shoved Mo Tingjue hard.
"If you don't want me to beat you into tomorrow's headlines, then get the hell out."
Mo Tingjue glanced around nervously.
There were people passing by—he still cared about his image.
Gritting his teeth, he spat,
"Mo Tingyan, you're a fucking mad dog!"
Then he turned and hurried into his car, fleeing the scene.
Mo Tingyan stayed downstairs and smoked a cigarette.
Only after confirming that Mo Tingjue hadn't returned did he head back upstairs.
Wen Zhi was cooking in the kitchen.
After changing his clothes, Mo Tingyan joined her.
She glanced at him but didn't speak.
Mo Tingyan leaned over to look at the cutting board.
Not seeing the hand-pulled noodles he'd specifically requested, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, his tone playful.
"Didn't you say you'd make hand-pulled noodles for me?"
Wen Zhi shrugged her shoulders, trying to shake him off.
"You eat whatever I make. Stop being picky."
Sensing her displeasure, Mo Tingyan simply spun her around.
One arm wrapped around her slender waist, he effortlessly lifted her onto the countertop, positioning himself between her knees.
His fingers gently pinched her cheek.
"What's wrong? Still angry because of Mo Tingjue?"
"Want me to comfort you?"
"…In another way?"
He leaned in to kiss her—
But before his lips could touch hers, Wen Zhi pressed her palm against his forehead.
"Enough," she said helplessly.
"The person you want revenge on isn't here. You don't need to act this thoroughly."
Mo Tingyan raised an eyebrow, then laughed lazily.
"You believe what Mo Tingjue said?"
Wen Zhi shot back,
"Then what—should I believe you married me out of love?"
She'd always suspected it.
Sleeping together once and then proposing a flash marriage out of nowhere—
there had to be a reason.
"I approached you back then to get revenge on Mo Tingjue myself," she continued calmly.
"That's nothing to hide. Why did you pretend otherwise?"
Mo Tingyan leaned closer, the tip of his nose brushing her soft cheek.
His smoke-laced voice curled around her ears.
"So," he murmured,
"you're upset because of what he said?"
Wen Zhi: "..."
"I'm not upset," she corrected.
"I just think you weren't honest."
Mo Tingyan pulled her closer into his arms.
Yes—he did have other motives.
But—
He huffed lightly.
"Zhangzhu, I didn't lie."
"I dislike the Mo family, that's true—but marrying you had nothing to do with them."
He lowered his voice, deliberately intimate.
"When I proposed, I said it clearly."
"I married you because I was addicted to your body. Completely obsessed."
He even put on a pitiful expression.
"Downstairs, Mo Tingjue slandered you right in front of me—said you were promiscuous."
"I didn't believe a single word."
"So why would you believe him… and not me?"
"Zhangzhu," he sighed softly.
"My heart hurts."
Wen Zhi: "..."
She had to admit—
This man had serious green-tea acting skills.
"Enough," she said, pushing his forehead away and trying to get down.
But Mo Tingyan tightened his hold instead.
The more she resisted, the closer he pressed.
Warm, damp kisses trailed along her neck as he whispered shamelessly,
"I'm injured, you know."
"You're not going to compensate me?"
"Come on… let your husband get zero-distance contact."
"I need treatment."
Wen Zhi: "..."
Could he possibly be any more shameless?